Infinities

The whole galaxy stood there before him. He looked like a man. He was not a man. Nor was he a God. He was just at the right place at the right time.

His mind was at the right place at the right time.

What was his purpose? Why nothing.

He was the Spark. He was the Spark that set the seeds for a forest fire.

He was the Idea. He made you Think.

He was Eternal, he was Infinite.

And, he was dying...

The Bilge Master

I am Simple Math- A Guest Post

Please welcome m friend from Hyderabad, miss Arunima Prakash to the blog. Her poem is about simple math. Or is it?

Aru, thanks a ton for this poem!

The Bilge Master

I am simple math
but sometimes
I go off at a tangent
sometimes my 'x'
becomes a 'y'
all my thoughts
are 'i'
while my ideas
can sometimes sound 'pi'
there is hardly
a lesser then
or
a greater than.
I am simple math,
please don't curve
the fine line
i am treading on.

Olive

This is a true incident. I do not know who I saw, but I saw the person described, doing what I describe. Believe it or not.

~ Ashesh/The Bilge Master

Ten ‘o clock at night. My father was going to kill me if he ever found out. But then again, time flies when you’re teaching someone like Rudan English.

So there I was on the platform of Mahanayak trying to snag a train back to Sherwood. Unfortunately, I made a mistake and ended up on a train bound for Kalighat. I realised my error one station down at Rabindra Sarobar. I got off and frantically looked at the large LED lit clock on the platform. 10:07. Next train at 10:11. Dash it all!

I wandered over to the correct line this time. There were a knot of people there, mainly office goers who were heading back after a long day’s work. I smelled stale deodorant and hastily smoked cigarettes on a few of them. The women had smudged make up and they all just wanted to go home and take a shower.  I wanted to go home and take a shower. Teaching Rudan tense was tiring but fun.

The clock read 10:09. That’s when I glimpsed a man at the far corner of the platform. He was dressed in an olive green shirt, black trousers and looked to be about 42. It seemed he was waiting to board the train. I did not pay him much heed.

10:11. The train was pulling in. I glanced at it and saw something. The man I described earlier walking to meet it, on the live high voltage line. How this was possible I do not know. No one else seemed to have noticed it. I got shoved on to the train and managed to get a spot next to the window.

My last memory was this man in the olive shirt waving goodbye at me as the train pulled away.

Rainmaker

So I tried my hand at microfiction.

There was once a boy who had the power to control storms. The village he was staying in suffered from drought each year. Whenever this happened, the boy would summon a storm and the rain would make the drought go away.

This boy then met a minor God of storms and was told he had been given the power to cause rain at will by the God.
In repayment, the God demanded that the boy pray to him.

The boy refused. In anger, the God cursed the village and now not even the boy's powers can make rain. The villagers blamed the boy's arrogance and decided to appease the God by offering him as a sacrifice.

But in doing so, they set the boy's soul free. Now, whenever the boy wants to, he can make it rain.

But, you have to believe in the boy. Or else,, he will not make it rain.

If you believe, clap your hands!

The Bilge Master

The Passively Active Smoker

In memory of the first cigarette I tried. Never again. Pass me the whiskey! 
The poem has a new last stanza which is an input by Mr. Ashok Bhatia. He is an accomplished blogger who writes about Wodehouse. His blog can be found here.
Mr Bhatia, thank you very much for your input sir. 

Growing up in a cloud
Born from a cylinder 
Two millimeters long 
Clasped in pursed lips 
Is the Passively Active Smoker

Inhaling secondhand smoke
From bedrooms and parlours 
And under street lamps 
He has adapted

And today his curiosity got the better of him 
And he decided to light up

A racking cough later,
Couple of bitter tears shed,
And he decided to give up

The Bilge Master

Conversation in My Head

Conversation in my head 
Is so much fun 
Just me and me 
Old friends

Light shafts of thought 
Echo within my cranium
The acoustic effects ripple 
Causing migraines

You who are in me 
And know those things no one else does 
You who stare back at me 
And meet my eyes in a mirror

You I need to see 
Come out 
Let's play

The Bilge Master