g's world

I am writing about #MyRoleModel  as a part of the activity by Gillette India in association with  BlogAdda.com . There were streaking sparks from the distant star that were scorching the narrow roads of the metropolis. I was reclined in the four-wheeled luxury skimming over a glossy magazine with skinny models teething in glamour. There was also this favourite melancholy of mine that was shrilling the juke box that I had installed into my car.  As I passed by a pawn-strewn road flooded with scorchy rays, I happened to notice a middle-aged man who was in ragged attire (a mud-stocked banniyan and a lungi tied up to his thighs) squatting on to a stone. He had his face covered with a beard unshaven for a few days and brown, unkempt mane that fell over his forehead.  Yet I noticed something that was so attractive about him. He was too concentrated onto something he was doing to even notice anything that was happening around him, the sun drinking away his body-moisture, him s

Cluck...Cluck...Cluck I go clucking into oblivion Not an ear to hear my desperate call from doom Cluck...Cluck...Cluck My feathers detach dropping down  from sparkling white  to tawny brown on the ground Cluck...Cluck...Cluck I am a feathery fiend for I never end my struggles to free away  from the fence Cluck...Cluck...Cluck As he cycles away  onto the muddy plain  with me lolling upside down my legs strangled into a mess on my way to mourn Cluck...Cluck...Cluck My friends and foe have no morrow for they are beside me clucking away to sorrow Cluck...Cluck...Cluck I breathe my smell nostalgia creeps in of the meadows that I dwelt in Cluck...Cluck...Cluck But all I smell now is of the steely cycle of blood and the stench of paan that the satan chews Cluck...Cluck...Cluck I am untied fall down to gravity picked up my woun