Sunday, October 31, 2010

Stories

I wonder where they were
Before they came to
In those unforgettable books.
All those characters
So real that their tears sting
And eyes still shine
The school boy
Standing alone on a railway platform
Unable to bid goodbye
To an estranged friend
He may never see again
The father who wanted to be well-liked
Dying unloved and heart-broken
His great dream turning out to be a big lie
The woman who pretended to be in love
But only wanted the man to hurt,
When the end came
You did not want it to end
Though you knew stories never end
Only they are not all told.

2 comments:

Balachandran V said...

And where do they all go to? All those stories told and untold? I felt as if I am standing on the verge of the chasm of time...

You continue to disturb, to leave me with an unexplainable angst, as always...

Prabhakar said...

Sir, I keep telling my friends both here and abroad to write about the people they know and things they've seen for the benefit of others. Before long their stories will vanish into the mists of time.