If...

If all repercussions reflect the regrets of a soul,
would I be searching for stardust in moonlight?
If all vague pictures paint dismal images
of unstructured lives,
would I be looking for people through coloured glass?
If substances were outlined by shadows of imperfections,
would I be looking at a perfectly imbalanced palette of colours?
If all nights were spent as a dream of nightmares
would I be facing reality in focus
the morning after?
If every reflection in the mirror
shows a never ending saga of a lonely soul,
would I be search for a reflection in my being?

It is just a game...

And so it is all a game,
I might win or I might loose
Who cares anyway, on what I choose.
And to me it is all the same,
even if it leads me down the lane of ambiguity.
In truth, I align myself to the necessity
of pampering to egos.

If only honeyed words would work,
I would only drown myself.
But who knows what lurks behind those,
all seeing eyes.
What those actions mean and behind the unseen,
what secret lies.

And so it is all a game
and I still try to find reasons lame
to play around with words.
Words that trip me up and slow me down
And wrangle me into knots unknown.

And if it is still a game,
how long should I play?
There seem to be only meaningless gestures
meandering through the day.
If only dear heart, if only we wouldn’t be torn apart
And if only I could make you stay.

Window dressing at Neeru's - bad practice

The other day, Hubby and I were driving by Neeru’s on Rd No 1, opposite the City Centre. And guess what we got to see, a female mannequin being dressed, no not inside the showroom as it is usually done, but at the display window.
I simply could not believe my eyes since the person who had been chosen to carry out the task was a guy. He had completely stripped the mannequin and was trying to drape a saree around it. Its chest was bare and it was facing the road, as usual in its display position. We could see he was moving his hands all over the figure...yetch...
A man and his doll - it was grossly voyeuristic. I had half a heart to walk out and whack the man and yell at him. Unfortunately I was boxed in by the traffic and could not get out.

What are people thinking when they do this? Don’t they have common sense? It might have been a lifeless doll, but it still represents the female figure and I am sure a lot of women must have felt uncomfortable that day.