Experiment with Life

In experimenting with life,
There are no constants,
Polarity is the beginning,
In unions it ends...
The science of living is not too complicated,
It isn’t sans purpose,
Rather an individual quest,
The juggling of conditioning,
With that voice in the head,
In experience of the opposites,
Tremendous is growth
From the putrid to the bloom of love,
From agonistic to acceptance,
Much more a man’s worth,
Truly, a living experiment,
Unabashed, unbound.

In Death

Not many will admit,
But to cease to exist,
Is a long cherished dream,
Much like death,
A subtler emotion expressing desperation,
Again, not many will admit,
A certain longing to be someplace else.
They say it’s cowardly to give up on life,
To cease to exist is the easy way out,
Easy for whom?
Inspiration has its failings too,
Now, Van Gogh would be an ideal,
But the world believes that death must come to you,
Only a neurotic mind would contemplate suicide,
But you aren’t neurotic, are you?
Yet...

Uncharted

Every once in a while,
There is that sudden gust of clarity,
That the blue print of our destiny,
Begins from scratch,
Those unimportant moments,
Dismissed with a wave of a hand,
Vague,
Vagabond,
Uncharted,
By yourself,
There is this truth to life,
The last man standing,
Is the one who isn’t leaning on anybody.

Pit-Stops

Unsteady feet drunk on Godliness,
Have walked for miles and miles,
lanes, by-lanes,
On a cold winter night,
Have stared in awe at the lantern,
Outside people’s door,
And thanked God for showing the way,
The distant light is symbolic of hope,
The traveller’s journey is not the destination,
But the pit-stops through the destination,
That brings them home.
See, how life is spent caught up,
Indifferent to these pit-stops,
Forever in an ungodly rush to be someone,
Somewhere, someday...

The Bitch

The milk is barely there,
The puppies’ blind, sucking air,
Limping she searches for food,
Anything to feed the hungry mouths,
Exhausted she lays down,
There is no godfather to pet her crown,
Needy eyes look at passersbys,
Whimpers,
Scarce is love and so is food,
There is a quiet strength in those frail limbs,
A fight to live,
Beat the cold, the hunger, the thirst,
In this dubious world,
Her children must come first.

The Answers

So many prayers floating in the air,
From broken homes, estranged hearts,
Laughing eyes and wishful dreams,
Entangled lives hoping for relief,
Time passes painfully slow before the answers come,
In waiting a thousand deaths,
Many a shrivelled smiles,
That faraway look,
Lone head leaning out a window,
Contemplating that fall,
The itch to runaway,
To scream, to hide,
Wonder if it would ever be all right,
Yes, painfully slow,
Yet, worth every moment,
When the prayer reaches His door...
The answers maybe difficult to fathom,
They demand of you,
The courage of a lion,
To fight before anything can be given unto you.

दोस्त

झिलमिलाती बत्तियों से रोशन है घरों की छत,
सर्दी मैं हर रोज कही बारात तो कही दिवाली है,
रेशम का बाज़ार लगा,
सुर्ख दीयों की लाली है,
मिटटी के भगवन सजे,
सडकों पे बिकते है,
जेब मैं जितना चिल्लर था,
हम भी चन्द मिटटी के दिये खरीद लाये,
जब लौ जलाने बेठे तो,
अपने को तनहा पाया,
याद आया वो लड़कपन,
जब न फिक्र का था ही नाम सुना,
न शिकन थी कोई चेहरे पे,
रात मैं दादी का सिरहाना,
और माँ की डांट सवेरे मैं,
गलें लगा कर माँ जब रोया करती थी,
मालूम ना था जवानी मैं इस दिन को भी तर्डपेंगे,
पर गम नहीं,
जब गली मैं सुस्ताता कुत्ता,
अपनी गहरी ऑंखें इन गीली आँखों मैं डालता है,
कहते है वो हलके से,
थोडा प्यार मुझे कर लो,
तो यकायक दिल कह उठता है,
ऐ खुदा, तुने जानवर को इंसान बनाया क्यों नहीं?

Men of God

A mockery,
That’s all there is to it,
There are no hidden rainbows behind the seamless sky,
There is no lofty mountain worth the climb,
There is no pleasure in seeking,
To know would be enough,
But not everyone can know,
You need a pair of innocent eyes,
Where will you find them,
When the world is full of people, playing God,
Walk away,
Safe is another name for harm,
There is no shelter in the arms of men of God.

I lie

I lied, I lie... very often,
Sometimes I don’t even remember,
At times I don’t wish to,
I like my memories clean,
They may not be worth a dime,
But they are all I have,
And when I stare at the ceiling,
I curse the blank walls,
All the colours that I have filled in,
Count for no real feelings,
Just a jumble of paint,
That I try to pass as a painting.

Wind in Our Hair

The world is not a fair place,
You see that dense forest of hurt,
Where the wild berries of teardrops grow,
The thorn of anger nicks the skin,
And the fruit of loneliness never ripens.

There under the shade of vulnerability,
The bird of longing flaps its wings,
The love nest bereft of eggs,
And the tree of anxiety sways and sings,

Only in autumn the fallen leaves of sorrow,
Are gathered by the shaking hands of wind,
In the rustle of the foliage,
Rings the sound of death,
And when the mourning is over,
Will the breeze of love feel our face,
Ruffle our hair with naughtiness,
In this unfair world there might still be hope,
For all the brokenness.

Hope, For You...

Our most precious gift is that of hope,
Not the one that comes with promises,
For they are mere shackles,
I speak of hope,
Hope of a better tomorrow,
The kind that sings,
But not in anticipation,
The song flows from the creator,
Turning sobs into bright spots of laughter,
Words into a great storm of feelings,
A meal into a sacred offering,
Like the first morsel in a lover’s mouth.
Of all the emotions the mind experiences,
From despair to anger, to lust to loneliness,
In surrender, the spirit is pure,
And it calls forth an avalanche of events,
That buries the ugliness in the snow of love,
Ah, beautiful is life,
Blessed,
Never without you.

I the Dragon

I am my greatest enemy,
The dragon that must be slain,
At all cost,
Wherever my feet may take me,
The ground must feel solid,
Not the shifting sands of doubt,
And when my dreams forsake me,
With these very hands,
I must burn the remains,
Scatter them far and wide,
Not an ounce of grief shall touch me.
In the place I run and hide,
From the great pool of sorrow,
Like a rabbit out of a hat,
Shall flow the courage to stand up and fight,
Fight, the dragon ‘I’.

Together are You?

Togetherness is not in the ties,
Nor in their presence,
You won't even find it in the holding of hands,
Its certainly not on paper,
Its the image that stays in the eyes,
Even after a person is long gone...

Cold is Purpose

Someday it snaps,
All that vibrates,
Must die a brutal death...
Cold is the breath,
That has found purpose,
If in strength lies weakness,
Then all must go,
Rebuilt,
On the river of tears,
A place to rest,
To call your own.

The Test

Unless He tests us,
We can never see the face of courage,
That has been snoring long.
To seive the truth from the untruth,
You have only you...Scared?
Don't be,
Life does not knock on the door of many,
And those who raise the flag,
Embrace their destiny,
Innocent are men and women in love,
And let not the world tell you otherwise,
If their pain, pains you,
know that your God is theirs too,
Each one will know peace,
No price is too much for the image you carry in your eyes.

Lame

Lame is the mind that wallows in self pity,
And hurries away to lick its wounds,
The further it runs,
The more it shall burn,
Such is the curse of an unfeeling spirit,
There would be nothing left to feel...
Be afraid of that day,
When you'll have nothing to hold,
Even your memories would have deserted you

A Sob Story

Why is the world scared of tragedies?
I see them everywhere,
Its there in the very fabric of the cosmos,
Pain is the dark knight,
Loss, his beloved queen...
A sob story is my story and maybe yours too,
To hide is of no consequnce,
What would you gain,
The steel of your mind,
The wolrd can not gauge,
Even those who feel obliged,
Will walk in your shoes,
Such is His world,
We all pay our dues.

Don't Be

If the morning doesn't bring,
With it the promise of another fulfilling day,
A song, a dance, a light spring to your step,
An overwhelming feeling of wholeness,
Then wherever you are,
Don't be...

Divine Notes

Can fingers alone play the chords?
Make music flow from a piece of wood?
The song that the mind hums,
The fine music the ears soak,
Are the divine notes of a loving heart,
Relentless,
In wanting to be heard.

Divine Notes

Can fingers alone play the chords?
Make music flow from a piece of wood?
The song that the mind hums,
The fine music the ears soak,
Are the divine notes of a loving heart,
Relentless,
In wanting to be heard.