RECTANGLE OF LIFE

Verification of cards at every public place
shops, restaurants, ATM's, kiosks, airports
the list endless, humans in a race to amass them
proof of survival collapsed into obese wallets
with multiplied card slots
currency notes pushed to pillion rider's seat.

In the past, cards meant playing cards or greeting cards
playing cards' dog ears exchanged hands during summer or winter breaks
some corner shelf now stacks mildew creased old birthday and new year cards
UNO cards of my daughter's childhood, a shared pass time of ours even now in winter break.

Now cards have many aliases
Credit card, debit card, health care card.
insurance card, national identification card, loyalty cards
some labels unheard of then, now household names
some laminated, some electronic
each updated model an upgraded verification.

Frantic at the loss or theft of a credit or debit card
cards are treasured, they are our daily oxygen,
these small rectangles rule our lives,
who are we without them?
Lost travellers in this modern path of life.

So similar are we to the rectangles we carry
an expiry date printed on each card
we likewise have one each etched the day we are born.

Every traveller one day reaches the expiry date,
a dug-out rectangle on the ground tucks the body
the only rectangle that slips by whole life
rests him or her at the end.
Some cloaked in a coffin
some just buried in the ground
some burnt on a pyre, similar shapes
all preserved cards just waste papers.

DREAMS

I dust the scattered ones on the duvet, some slip on the floor

swept and lost in winter day's cold grind

few insist on continuation, sequence missed

ruin the grip.

How did they enter our lives,

who taught us to dream?

When do soap operas get created in our sleep, 

 few with multiple casts as in movie Tenet like

past ancestors and present gen Z collide at times,

backgrounds and characters intermingle in sleep.

A toss or a turn ruins the continuum.

Trickles of daylight evaporate the residual few

the steam of one rest on my plain white cup of chai

I sip my masala chai and caress it with my fingernail

dream flattened on the cup, traces recede in the amygdala 

to rehearse another scene for heavy eyelids.

The day rolls brim with duties and activities, night cruises along

yawns stretch, stillness of the night engulfs body and mind. 

Lights switched off, I settle under the blanket, accustomed snore of my husband

he in his dreams probably, my eyes close in a deep slumber

dreams costumed and ready enact their part.