The Evening

Today, I remember the small verse by Gulzar, that he wrote about an evening. Even my evenings sometimes pass like this, till my nightangle comes and announces the rise of the night.

What is an evening afterall? Just an orphaned phase of time, left behind by the day, or a filler before the night comes?

As Gulzar says it -

An Evening


Day abandons it
Night disowns it

A poet picks it up
threads it
into a poem;

but sometimes
it is barren,

so impotent
it gives nothing,
not even to the poet.

- Gulzar
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Most of my evenings have given me a night , but there have been a few evenings, that simply stayed with my sadness, just the way it was today. The night came and has gone away halfway, but the evening is still here, hanging midway, laughing at my madness.