Evenings

The evenings are all the same

Me, my cup of hot, sugar free tea

My diary and a pen, 

And my musings. 

This is how it has been

This is how will it be

I kind of enjoy it deep within.

The peace, quietude and most importantly 

The solitude. 

The evening stretching on

Occasional barking of the dogs

The hawkers too at their loudest best

Quite often.

The children it seems 

Can't get enough of the evenings.

Busy with their life and play.

Mutiny too and their squeals,

That is music to my ears.

The parks are abuzz

Different sounds, smell and sight,

Children running wild, playing and fighting

And so do the two black pups

Fighting and playing 

With an occasional growl. 

The black pups, siblings

Are the sweetest kids to behold

With not much thought and care,

Digging up the soil 

Around the plants at a feverish pace,

Seems to be their favorite sport.

Watching them from afar is mine.

It's utterly divine watching them

Take a blissful nap in that pit

After a hectic round of play. 

Someone's cooking paneer,

Someone's busy having a puff,

The whistle of the cooker 

Goes off somewhere;

Then those ladies sitting

In different pockets of the park

Just gossiping.

Their high pitched laughter

Sounds great, breaks the Monotony of life. 

The health freaks, strollers 

Walking and walking;

Amidst all, the ladies 

Are clicking pictures together

As a parting gift

A friend is going away

To a foreign land

Hugs and tears flow free. 

My evenings are these and more

The experiences, the sound

The sight, the smell

All together make a complete whole.