Jataka Bandi
Two shadows glide,
where silence breathes—
a hush of wheels,
on glassy streets.
The sky bends low,
to watch them pass,
its greys like prayers
in folded light.
No haste, no horns,
no need to speak,
just breath and time
in slow duet.
They carry dreams
that others left,
and journeys souls
cannot forget.
Perhaps the road
remembers all—
the ones who pulled,
the ones who rode.
Both pilgrims in
this fleeting world,
two rickshaws on
a silver ode.
Between two worlds the highway flows,
Where sea-song meets the river’s prose.
Waves kiss the shore in tender grace,
While time slips by, a silent trace.
Each curve a memory shaped by tide,
Each breeze a whisper you can’t hide.
The road moves on, yet moments stay—
In hearts that paused along the way.
Not just a path where waters meet,
But a quiet place where hearts skip a beat
Is it just land and water’s play?
Or is it where lost souls find their way?
She walks alone, but not in fear,
Each step dissolves what once was near.
The walls are whispers, time-worn deep,
Of dreams that stirred while souls did sleep.
Isn’t it the way—from within, into becoming?
Isn’t it what a bud feels before blooming?
Isn’t it the story of nature in making—
A stillness before the miracle’s waking?
Light calls gently at the end—
Not as a finish, but as a friend.
A thousand selves she’s shed behind,
To meet the truth she’s yet to find.
For journeys start where endings glow,
And what we leave is what we grow.
She isn’t lost—she’s being made,
In shadows walked and light obeyed.