Untitled Verses by Pungidasa

Well ,

I have been writing since 5 years now.

I do not know how I have managed to do that.

A lot of gratitude goes to each and every one of you that has directly or indirectly been an influence on what I write and how I write.

The joy of bringing a smile on your face as you read through my posts is simply rewarding enough.

For over 5 years a lot of people have asked me when I will publish my first book.

And I almost always said, ”sometime in the near future” , the time has finally come to make that happen...

Here is Introducing my first book .

Untitled Verses

An Elixir of poems.

By Pungidasa

Available at this link as an ebook

http://www.lulu.com/shop/pungidasa/untitled-verses/ebook/product-22998625.html

Please do read and give me a feedback
And if you do like it ,
Do share it.

Thank you

Best Regards
Sunil Sathyendra aka Pungidasa...

My holidays

It has been ages since i have enjoyed this feel.

It is a feel. More intense than the feeling or should i say more complete.

The terrace has always been my most favourite of places and yes, i was up there.
The cold December morning had thawed and the sun had slowly gained control and by afternoon become pleasant.
The wind was still a little cold but the weather was perfect.

And i took a nap.

For an hour or so, on the floor.

In almost sixteen years that was the second time i had done that.

It was a high like none other to wake up to a cloudy sky, slightly biting wind and a luke warm sun.

I was transported back to where we all run when we need instant happiness.

I was back to my childhood.
As i came back to my kitchen and made myself some tea. A light drizzle made its way towards the balcony.

And the feel intensified.

The fragrance of wet earth.

Its a charm of its own. A charm that very few occasions in the last few years in office have ever provided.

I vividly remember our gang of friends.
We were around sixteen. I am not talking about our age but the number of kids that always played.

Our house was the only house in the neighbourhood that did not object to us playing cricket.

Although we rarely broke anyone's window panes we were never allowed to play in front of their houses, we were shooed away like we were the untouchables.

And if my some miracle we did play, the ball in play always seemed to find the destination of the Hitler Uncles and Horrible Aunties.

I tell you it was a minefield out there, we had to play like marines. And every time someone hit the ball into Hitler land we were hostage negotiators, taking their baseless abuses which we never listened after we got the ball.We just nodded like we do at all status meetings.

And then if we did play like nice kids, there were the long ditches that became the next magnets and scuba diving into them crawling along until we were decorated in mud, slime and stink.

And then there were dogs we had to be watchful of.

Apart from all this.
We had fun. Girls boys , young and old, ugly or beautiful, dark or white did not seem to matter.

The games ended at eight, after we were sure that every light eon had been used up.And at seven thirty next morning we were up like rabbits, raising dust like Alexander's army.

And my house was the treasury for all playing equipment, the drinks break always was at my place.
And my grandmother's afternoon job was to provide us with drinking water.

And we had competitions, as to who drunk most water from the jug in one shot. I was always the winner.

We had fights , most fights ended in a few minutes but a few others lasted a few days but all was well always.

We loved it, every minute of this life.
And then we never knew we were doing something we would always remember.

And if there was no one to play with, then i would take my cycle and simply make laps in the road, thinking i was some Micheal Schumacher, singing like a mad donkey on the road.

It just left carefree.

I think i miss the most of it this way.
We had birthdays, no booze or selfies, yet we always had fun and remembered every birthday...

On the verge of my 15 day vacation when my colleagues asked me if i was getting married, questioning my long holiday schedule, i am lost in the nostalgia, the old school charm , the romance of an era when i was simply uncomplicated.

Now i have holidays, a list of priorities,
A concrete jungle, my car which i don't really know how to drive, no friends who play cricket or do much.

They all want to play WhatsApp or Facebook or eat beer and snort weed , or take selfies every 500 micro second.

But i have a vacation of 15 days to relax, to recollect old memories and connect with all the trails that lead to conversations that matter.

My red balloon

It was those days when schools had holidays on weekends. I was may be in third standard, and usually my school van would be filled with equally interesting looking faces bored into existence at 7.30 in the morning and then our bus snaked it's way through small gullies and roads and at long last to my school at 9.00 sharp, five days a week

As usual my school had declared a holiday on Saturday and most of my friends were off to their relatives houses and I was left alone with nothing to do.
And my mother noticed me simply sitting in front of the wall and looking at nothing in particular.

She seemed to understand my boredom and she announced with a cheer in her voice that we would visit the flower show that afternoon after lunch.

I jumped from my place and hugged her tight. I had never been to a flower show and this would be severely exciting. I got ready , ate my lunch with an expectant enthusiasm that came naturally. I had my red dress, my red hat and red shoes on in a jiffy.
This was my favourite attire and by default red was my favourite colour.

We walked for a long time until we found a autorikshaw that took us to my first flower show.

The flowers were neatly arranged. There was a lot of people and naturally my mom always held my hand. I just did not find this any amusing. All the latent enthusiasm was gone. I had dropped my shoulders even before i had seen the third flower.

When the show was over, my mom looked at my sad face and told me that we would buy ice cream later.

we walked around doing in search of it. But i found this long tall uncle with dark black eyes selling balloons.
I was in luck. He had red balloons and he told me that it was a special balloon filled with magic. I should hold it tight or else it would float away.

I was given a choice, the ice cream or the balloon and without further ado , i had the object of beauty in my possession.

It was round, completely red and shone brilliantly in the sunlight.

I held it really tight because i desperately wanted this. For the first time in the day i was happy.

My mom bought herself an ice cream and declared that all her money was over.

I sneezed once.
Then twice.

My little red balloon took to the air.The helium balloon rose higher and higher, faster than the load of tears that welled in my eyes.

I kept crying and looking up into the sky. My little red balloon flying up in the sky further and further until i could see it no more.