the dead poet

the poet is sad again,
the lonely poet
wandering the roads once again,
incase he finds some pebbles
to keep him company,
miles after miles he walks,
talking to the unknowns,
who become his knowns ones,
and his known ones move far away,
farther and farther with each milestone.

the poet doesn't write anymore,
for he has no story to tell,
his stories are lost in the graves of his lost ones,
he doesn't cry for them,
only sometimes
a tear or two fall,
for he can't stop them,
but he wishes he could.

the old poet sometimes wishes for a different life,
a different story to be told,
only death can fulfill that wish,
but he knows death is yet to come,
he is still young,
though old in thoughts,
his wrinkled, crippled thoughts betray his age
and he is already dead
only no one notices.

so he wanders aimlessly
in the Road of Life,
without poetry,
without Rumi, without Ghalib,
the wordsmith's hammer doesn't work anymore,
the chisel is blunt
it no more engraves the rock,
and like a nomad he runs
from this door to that door,
in the hope
incase he finds,
yes, incase he finds
his lost words,
the words he never wrote.

the suffocated poet

In this hot sultry afternoon,
With people shouting at the top of their voices,
As sweat trip down their dusky toned faces,
My poetry is lost.

Once in a while
I try to write,
But in between I just collapse,
The sounds rotate in my mind,
Merging my thoughts and words,
And nothing comes out.

Some say I need a break,
I say I need lots of them,
The heat is rising beyond its level,
And I find it hard to cope.

Now it has started raining,
I look through my office window
And just watch,
The piercing arrows,
How I wish I could feel the needles,
How I wish I could release my pains.

There are so many things I want to talk about,
So many a things to share,
But neither do I find the words
nor do I find the thoughts.
And I look blankly outside.

The world beyond the window
Seems so tempting,
It neither deals in prose nor in poetry,
I wish I could cross the border,
I am a cursed soul
in the custody of a worn out body.

No, I don’t wish for death,
I want to live
All over again,
I want to feel everything that I have not felt,
I want to feel the world beyond my closed windowpane.

As slowly I return to my old rugged seat,
Away from the world of imagery
In between mundane deeds,
I have lost my poetry.

a distorted youth

Like a street dog
I roam
In the nooks and corners
Of my favourite lanes,
Why?
I don’t know
Never found an answer,
Never wanted to.

I have some friends
Sharing the same fate as I,
Yet I am alone,
Aimless;
Jobless
No,
I am not,
Yet I roam like one,
To find something unknown.

I have left the business of love unfinished,
At the juncture
Where two roads meet,
The feelings still remain unexplored,
The passion unfulfilled.
And I am in a sea of unknown pain,
And I walk towards the shore.

The books that I have read
Failed to satisfy my quench,
I long for an unknown world,
In the nooks and corners of my known lanes.

Sometimes
I ask myself,
Am I mad?
Or the world is going nuts,
I fail to find an answer,
But I ask none.

And like a street dog,
I roam,
Unfulfilled,
Unknown by my known world,
Trying to find a meaning of youth,
Now in the nooks and corners of
My old room.

just my criminal mind

A spoonful of sugar,
Two cubes of ice,
A dash of lime,
30 ml of scotch,
A cocktail prepared,

And with a gulp you drank all,
Your favourite drink.

A white livid face,
A pinch of pain,
A single query,
You ask ‘why’

Left unanswered forever.


A motionless body
Lying on the floor,
Sitting beside it,
I smiled the peaceful smile.

But alas! You died a much painless death,

And I died many,
many more a times.

cats! cats! I see cats all around

There was a dream,
A dream that I dreamt
Last night,
Nah
Today morning,
For it was around 8 am
How do I know?
For the alarm rang.

There was a dream,
A dream that I dreamt.

In the dream I saw,
Two cats trying to snuggle through the window
I drew my mother’s attention to the sight,
And cried aloud with a fright,
My mother led them snuggle,
And I yelled.

My mother said there were mice,
Which was nothing but mere vice(s)
Cats are wonderful all she said,
And I whimpered and yelled.

The cats just observed our fights,
Slimy creatures they are I made my mind.

Now they talked among themselves,
And I eavesdropped to their conversation.

The female thought they shouldn’t miss this chance
For mice are good for dinner and lunch.

Plus a cozy place
They would get,
And snick out time for some romance.

The male thought we might ask for something
For the place,
Especially me for he thought I was a nut case,

Seventy bucks at the most he could give.
Nothing else,
Not a dime more or less.


Taken aback by their audacities,
‘Can cats talk?’
I thought out of curiosities.

And at that moment the alarm rang,
My dream was broken at that instant.
I opened my eyes to look around,
Saw two cats sitting on the ground.

Amazed and dazed
I rubbed my eyes,
They just smiled and meowed
And left the house.

And from that moment till now,
Am seeing cats all around.

I am lost

I am lost,
That’s all I know,
My gray matter doesn’t respond.
Am lost
amidst all.

You are you,
but I am not I,

And there is your smile,
And there are my cries,
And am lost amidst all.


Sanity is not for me anymore,
With a deceased heart,
And brainless mind,
I am still alive.

None but a worthless life has I.

But what is the use of such a life,
You are you, but I am not I,

And there is your smile.
And there are my cries,
And amidst all I am lost.
I am between the smile and cries.


And slowly hollowness creeps.
And I succumb to it,

And for once I look for you,
You are you,
But I am not I.

the corrupt soul

The corrupt soul lies back today,
not much in a mood to play mind games,
in peace it is,
harmless,
bothering none,
and I smile,
the wickedest one,

For the corrupt soul resides in me.

today is my birthday and i am dead

today is my birthday,
and I am not among you all,
yet I am
do you know how?
of course in spirit and form.

do you remember the times
I used to write long lines,
the ones I used to call
"recollections of a troubled mind"
and used to pass it to all.

some of you thought
I was crazy,
for some I was a buffoon,
for some I was the best of pals,
but I love you equally and all.

I see you remember my birthday today,
and doing things I love most,
and believe me am missing you,
and not apart from you at all.

I see my parents shedding tears,
my ma crying all alone,
my baba is quite as usual,
trying to hide is pain from all,
my jeja, the painter at heart
hiding his tears and laughing
with all.

I wish I were with you,
I wish I could feel you,
I wish I could understand your pain,
I wish I were with you once again,
laughing, partying, enjoying life as ever again.

today is my birthday,
I am not among you all,
yet I am,
do you know how?
of course in spirit and form.

to you my friend abhinandan.......you truely live in spirit and form.

oh! my poor poor sun

It’s the rain everybody is talking about,
I will talk about the sun,
these days the dark clouds
are bothering him too much,
they hover all around him,
and then they rain,
and people think it’s the clouds responsible.

But my dear friends
what if I say?
the clouds bothered the sun so much,
he’s crying all day.

Not a moment of peace he has,
the clouds are such bullies,
tormenting him day and night,
no matter in which hemisphere he is.

So I took a step yesterday,
And informed the commissioner of clouds
About the torture and the pain.
The head looked at me sternly
and grumbled and said:
“Its monsoon, so what to do
that’s the rule you see,
every year about this time,
we bother the sun with all might and glee.
So before you lodge a complain
next time,
come with facts and figures properly”


Along with the sun today
I am sad too,
And now it’s raining all through the day.

The clouds and their mighty guns playing all the way………..

today I am in a mood to cry

Today I am in a mood to cry,
Should I say mood
Or just say I want to cry,
See there’s already a tear
In my perfect almond shaped eyes,
a drop of pearl according to some.

But today I am happy,
The weather is nice too,
Its monsoon round here,
And it’s drizzling.

I love it when it drizzles,
Love to walk on an empty street
On such a day…..

Yet today I am in a mood to cry…
me and my mood,
Always playing hide and seek
with each other,
but today I am happy.

Way to my office
I listened to my favourite
song on air,
Perfect song
for the perfect weather.

Yet today I am in a mood to cry…

I read a lovely poem
on a forum by a friend,
perfect poem for the perfect day,
on my favourite season,
‘monsoon dance’ it is named.

Perfect day,
perfect everything,
even the wind my lover
passed through me,
whispering sweet notes of love
and I blushed as usual.

Yet today I am in a mood to cry,
may be ’coz the wind just passed by,

To write a letter (part 2)

It’s the same letter
Addressed to me,
I haven’t answered it yet,
The question was who to answer it to,
Someone said send it to the winds,
I tried to write as told,
But in vain it went,
And the wind these days
Passing the other way,
No more in love with me you see,
It’s warm in here,
Not the kind of warmth one likes,
but the uneasy ones.


The letter, the letter,
It’s killing me,
Not a line written,
Not a sender found,
Am in between hustle and bustle,
The daily chores remain untouched,
The bedside table remains the same,
No more cleaning spree,
In case another such letter found.

The Wind

The wind betrayed me today,
it passed the other way,
didn't even look at me once,
how insensitive
it can be at times,
quite a hard thing to imagine.

The wind: my best friend,
always carried sweet notes
of perfume
some from Arabia,
now mostly French ones,
they are in vogue, I heard.

The wind used to carry messages
of love,
whispering in my ears,
and I blushed,
now am pretty sad,
why the wind is mad
with me?
Nobody said a word, not even hushed.

All I know today it’s flowing the other way,
must have found a better lover than me,
it’s the season of infidelity.

Well, my dear wind,
my best friend,
my lover
come back
If time and love affords,
Some day, some time….

I will be here waiting
waiting for you forever
by the same window seat,
the exact place where you left me………

to write a letter

a letter arrived God knows when,
and laid by the bedside forgotten,
today on a cleaning spree
I opened it,
the envelope had my name on it
and my address,
but to my surprise no sender's name,
in it was two papers,
one blank,
nothing written,not even a dot,
the other one carried a small note:
"write in blood,
wrench your heart,
squeeze your soul,
delve in pain and then create a poem
full of thought"

and now I sit idle,
knowing not what,
is there an answer to such a letter at all?
addressed to where and to whom?

do you remember me?

do you remember me?
once I used to write long notes to you,
some sweet, some like the bitter moon,
some sad tunes too,
some lullabies,
some which said nothing at all.
do you?
do you remember me?

once i was a part of you,
even today I remain with you,
may be in bits and parts,
or may be in whole,
why don't you search your heart?

do you?
do you remember me at all?

things may have changed,
some new ones must have been born,
but there are the old ones,
have they forgotten(me) or gone

I re ask again and again,
do you?
do you remember me at all?

and for those you never knew me,
I am a part of you,
and will always remain so,
never mind how,
never mind how new............

the lost'highland lass'

the damp soil bears her scent,
lingering as she walks by;
the air is heavy with the lovers' sighs
which fall as she smiles.

the flowers tucked on her hair,
mogra most of the time,
the bees hum some strange tunes,
as they follow her all the while.

drops of pearls sparkle on her lips,
as she drinks from the fountain of love;
and many a hearts she has killed,
by her subtle coyish charms.

as she baths in the river
that flows into a chasm deep,
the angels secretly gaurd her,
while the water lilies 'tend her hair,
the fishes clean her olive skin.

as she sways through the feilds of corn,
with a sickle in her hand,
the poppies dance and swing,
and they say she is from queen Sheba's land.

the birds of the woods are her friends,
and they twitter along with her,
as she speaks , the cuckoo sings,
and all hearts miss a beat.

there is none
that remain untouched,
awed eyed they stare as she pass(es)
who she is?
no one knows,
some say
she is the lost 'highland lass'.

ode to the rains

My mind revolves
As I look up
High above in the shy,
The mackerel clouds float,
The sky is all clear,
And there is no sight of rain,
Yet I can smell the rain.

My heart leaps with joy,
As if am a nine year old child,
Crushed by the summer’s heat,
I gorge into the watermelons
Throwing away the seeds,
And they stare bare at me,
Waiting too for the showers,
To fall on them,
And there is no sight of the rain,
Yet I can smell the rain.

Lazy afternoons pass by,
And I lie under the shades of the tress,
Usually reading a book,
Mostly poems of Keats and Shelley,
Sometimes I doze off,
Taking a siesta,
Then in my dream come you,
With your cool showers.
And a smile appears from nowhere.

I eagerly wait for the rain,
Much alike the famine stricken farmer,
Only my pain is less,
But the longing may just be the same,
For prickly heats kill me,
For they burn
As I rub ice on my face…

They say the rain is going to be late this year,
For that’s the weather forecast,
But deep in my heart I know
They are wrong,
For I smell the rain every where,
The magical winds bring me the news,
And it’s going to rain soon
For I smell the rain,
I smell the rain everywhere.

somethings are better un-named

As the hot wind blew to and fro
As the desert snake hissed,
As the sun scorched up above,
And I searched for a dream.

And then came you,
With the same view
As that of mine,
Following the same path,
To become my co-dreamer.

No, I was not afraid to you,
Together we followed the path
That led us,
And together we searched for a dream,
A particular dream.

Then we reached a point,
Where the earth was perched,
We both sat together at that point,
And tears rolled downed from our eyes,
The soil got wet,
The perched earth softened,
And from our pockets
We threw some seeds of love,
And waited for days,
And cried everyday,
Till our eyes went dry,
And we had nothing more to offer.

And then one day,
When the sun was up high,
The hot wind blew to and fro,
A bud came out,
From a seed,
For only a seed was alive,
For none could bear the heat
And then slowly the bud grew
And one day it bloomed,
Together we cried,
My co-dreamer and I,
And the together we laughed,
For the fruit of our love was still alive.



As the hot wind blew to and fro
As the desert snake hissed,
As the sun scorched up above,
And I realized my dream.

Moments as they pass by

the moments passed away slowly,
taking a part of me,
everytime,
and slowly I was decaying
much like a fading essence of a rose,
he once said
"Don't shade your tears,
for they are for the weaker ones"and
I hadn't from that moment
yet something was there,
something,
that I couldn't say
or didn't understand
I wished I could cry sometimes,
The tears were stuck,
In my eyes
waiting to drop
Alas!my fate was not to cry,
but to wait
for an hour more of my life,
for another moment to passby,
another rose to wilt and wither away,
another tear ready to fall,
but to die a premature death.

the incomplete call.

the knocks at the door don't let me sleep,
and I lay awake all through the night.
There's a call,
is it for me,I fail, to understand,
yet I listen to it quietly
lying on the bed.

there's a tap on the window,
who's there?
I cry,
nobody answers,
and then there are taps,
and I listen quietly lying on the bed.

my heart thumps fast
as if it wants to fly away from the cage,
far, far away
to some unknown lands,
horrified,
I close my eyes,
hug my pillow tight,
the thumping doesn't stop.

suddenly all were quiet,
silence before the storm,
I touched my heart,
am I dead?
no, my heart beats
although slow
and I draw a sigh of relief,
but it's a momentary one.

It starts all over again,
here thunder strikes twice,
the night is long,
the wind gushes through the trees,
the owl hoots frequently,
and I lay quiet
listening to the knocks, the taps and the thumps
and waiting for the call
which is yet to come
and the knocks don't let me sleep,
and are you awake too
along with me
all I hear is the wind
rushing through the trees.

try again,try again

I ruffle,
I shuffle,
I grumble,
I rumble,
I beg,
I cry,
am I lost in the monotony of the game,
what game?
life's game
am I a miser
or a loser?
just swimming in fantasy and desire,
I growl,
I moan,
and then I laugh
a silly laugh,
and then cry
over my own folly,
or at my might,
I achieve,
I deceive,
I confuse only to diffuse,
I praise
sometimes false....
am I a hypocrite
am I feeble,
or just disabled
by norms and rules,
but provided by whom?
am I neddy,
then again I play,
the life game,
can I stop,
do you stop,
is it possible to stop?
lose or gain
try again,
try again,
is this a motto
or just a saying
for a feel good feeling,
does it count
all is but same at the end,
try again,
try again
and then again and again............

Prisoner of Time

This poem is on my love for Sunday, as a person I am lazy, a born supporter of Garfield....mu ah, love him dearly for what he is...and love lasagna too...

My mornings do not mean
the sunrise on earth,
your face is my hope of light,
for I go through six days of darkness
and the seventh day blesses me with your sight.
this one day
I am no more a prisoner,
nor am I an unnoticed sign,
for in your presence,
I feel my existence,
but,
alas! from the next day
I am again the prisoner of time.

And then
sorrow creeps in my heart,
pain pops up its cruel head,
darkness all around,
no matter where ever I turn;
fine lines appear
as tension draws its lines,
and I wait eagerly for you
with every seconds and every
count of time.

The day before your arrival,
time passes slowly than usual,
the longing, the passion, the wait
seems like ages,
and I grow so restless
the hour glass seems to be stagnant,
and I crave for you
and your bright smile.

And then the seventh day come,
with all pomp and show
making a grand entrance,
the church bell rings at early dawn,
the chorus sings,
swallows twitter
and the love wind blows,
and I open my eyes
with hopes and desires
and longings of the days gone by,
for it is time
when your arrival is to be.
but
alas! time is always futile,
the day passes by
and again I fall prey
to the grips of time.

I am Beautiful

early sunday morning
very near to dawn,or
say dawn just walked away,
I look at myself in the mirror,
my eyes,
my lips,
my innocent smile,
there's no make up,
not even a dash of kohl,
and my lips are nude,
then I hear to what the mirror says
keeping my ears wide open,
It says
I am beautiful
I smile,
I laugh,
I giggle,
and the I turn coy,
and I laugh at the mirror,
to what the mirror says,
Oh! I am beautiful,
am so beautiful,
and I keep on talking
to the mirror,
I turn, I swing,
I go round and round
with my arms over my head,
af if intoxicated,
I sing,
I dance,
I look at the mirror,
I recognise myself,
I am beautiful,
not for beauty's sake,
but I feel beautiful.

this poem is dedicated to the sunday dawn that made me realise that I am beautiful from inside.

a game

away, away
i fly
among the clouds
everytime
to play
hide and seek with them;
sometimes,
they give me a fright,
with louds thunders,
and bright light,
afterwards they laugh,
a rollicking laugh,
enjoying the game,
but i hate it so
very much
everytime;
a tear drops
from my eyes,
another feather burnt,
another feather lost,
soon i will turn bald,
my line is thinning,
my skin shows,
oh!poor me,
oh!poor me,
the clouds don't show any mercy,
like a goon
they give me fright
everytime,
time and again,
yet i play with them,
i fly among clouds,
for my love for soaring heights,
i do fly,
i do fly.

oh! my beloved books

one fine day
some termites decided to make a nest,
and the queen led them the way,
they found a cosy corner
in my beloved book shelf,
where my books were kept in an order,
by names of poets and authors,
to whom I referred to
day to day.

to my utter dismay,
my books were being eaten,
as they were their source of sustenance,
heart broken was I
as tears rolled down,
but I failed to wail at the sight,
for wrath had taken over
as I saw the extent of my disaster.

the collection on Keats was gone,
Browning laid half eaten,
Essays Of Elia was lost,
Baugh's philology succumbed to its fate,
Wordsworth was fully soiled,
for Paradise Lost:paradise was lost,
and in my mind was the urge to take revenge.

so I decided to kill,
every single one of them,
covering my face,
I attacked
with the anti-termite spray.
as if it was a guerrilla fight,
here and there they ran,
up and down on my hand,
biting forcefully as I yelled in pain.

at last they were vanquished,
mercilessly as I killed
each one of them,
thousands laid dead,
including their queen
some wounded,
waiting for their doomed fate,
and a victory smile appeared on my face,
along with a tear of loss,
for my books on poetry were lost.

how can I decide who lost and who won
at the end...............

tagged by the meister

1. if your lover betrayed you, what would your reaction be?

well i was betrayed once, it hurts a lot and you feel that's the end but life moves on.

2. if you can have a dream come true,what it would be?

rarely any of my dreams come true but if it is a particular dream then it would be travelling to Europe and visiting Rome and Greece.

3. whose butt would you love to kick?

there's many in the list. one day i will kick them all.

4. what would you do with a billion dollars?

simple answer: invest and travel.

5. will you fall in love with your best friend?

nahhhh...never, rather the opposite happened to me.

6.which is more blessed;loving someone or being loved by someone?

of course being loved by someone.

7. how long would you wait for someone you love?

all my life.

8. if the person you secretly like is attached, what will you do?

nothing,but always be by the side of that person.

9. if you could root for one social cause what it would be?

i would rather root for two: illiteracy and social problems related to old age.

10. what takes you down the fastest?

hypocrisy and lies.

11. where do you see yourself in 10 years time?

as a published author.

12. what's your fear?

am afraid of fire. i fear that i might get burnt.

13. what kind of person do you think the person who tagged you?

a sweetheart at times, a nice person in general, with a acute disease of falling in love time and again.

14. would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?

well can't help it but be married and poor.

15. what's the first thing you do when you wake up?

stretch my arms and look at the time on the big wall clock.

16. if you fall in love with two people simultaneously, who will you choose?

the one who loves me.

17. will you give up all in a relationship?

yeah i will.

18. would you forgive and forget someone no matter how horrible a thing he has done?

i might forgive but i will never forget.

19. do you prefer being single or in a relationship?

both has flaws but i would rather be in a relationship.

20. list of people to tag: kabir, rajtilak, abhinandan and supriya.

the sky and the moon

the night was sombre,
the full moon was up high,
and the clouds floated
adorning the moon and the sky,
a thought came to my mind:
who was more beautiful that night?
was it the moon or the sky?

the moon laughed and said,
'of course it was I,'
the sky made a face and said,
' how could it be so
you shone with borrowed light'
the moon argued,
'but you remained dark without me
all through the night.
the stars were quite,
the clouds bore witness to the fight.

days passed in silence,
the moon was angry with the sky,
nor was the sky going to oblige,
their love was lost,
so was their harmony,
the stars were sad,
the clouds floated aimlessly,
the moon changed it's form
with each passing day,
and then came the night
when everything appeared dark,
the moon had forgotten to rise,
for it was new moon's day.

the sky missed the moon,
the moon missed it too,
but the sun came in the way,
then the clouds spoke aloud,
'the fight was useless,
why did you fight in the first place,
the sky was nothing without the moon,
the moon always had to shine on the sky,
they were made for each other
from the first day.'

the fight came to an end,
slowly the moon rose the next day,
and after fourteen days
came again the full moon day,
the stars twinkled happily,
the clouds were happy too,
the moon shone brightly in between them.

the night was sombre,
the full moon was up high
the clouds floated
adorning the sky and the moon
seeing their ethereal harmony,
all thoughts ceased to exist........

gone are the days

gone are the days
when i rode free on clouds
indulged in some bubble thought,
sometimes glancing at the rising sun.

gone are the days
when rain fell on a lotus leaf
and i captured the moment
in my memory.

gone are the days
when birds twittered,
and i by the window sill,
listened to their songs of love.

gone are the days,
when on a starry night,
the owl hooted
and my heart raced for the unknown.

gone are the days
when the full moon rose on the mountain top,
adorned by a garland of clouds,
and i hummed a tune,

gone are the days
when the little boy played his flute
at midnight, when all were fast asleep,
and i remained bemused by his muse.

now i dwell
among bricks and rocks,
where all is but concrete,
all i hear are horns of cars,
and i want to scream
in the acid rain,
which try to fade my memory.

alas!
i moved away,
away from my home,
the bubble thoughts,
the sunshine,
the rain,
the starry night,
the moon,
the flute,
the muse,
and now i live alone,
alone in the crowd.

alas! gone are the days.....

irony of fate

one fine afternoon,
after a hearty meal,
i stopped by the mall,
just to window shop,
then from nowhere came a sound,
a weird
'gr,gr, groom'
around I looked to find
what was it all about,
It was she,
who made the sound,
for she spotted a pizza
in the parlour ,
big and round,
and pulled me inside
as she growled,
seeing her tantrums
I gave in,
finding a comfortable seat,
she asked me in,
just to place the order,
a fiery chicken pizza
with ringo garlic base
with extra cheese and crunchy chicken,
along with it came coke and garlic breads,
she digged in the food
licking her lips,
chewing, crushing in between.

the next morning things happened
as it was supposed to be,
the night was stormy,
though the day was bright,
and that day lightning struck twice,
she spent the night and the next morn
in the loo,
and along with her,
I suffered too.

afterwards a doctor had to be called in,
he prescribed total bed rest
and a diet regime,
I always heard regimes were for work outs,
but then I knew it was for diet too.

the next few day she laid in bed,
with all sorts of aches and pain,
along with her I too, took some rest,
the Sunday party was missed,
and broken hearted I laid,
the pillow my tears softly kissed.

in the end I must say,
I wished! how I wished,
you would sometimes listen to me,
my stupid, stupid stomach,
it was all your fault,
did you know,
how much
I suffered 'cause of thee???

a pinch of hope

as the moon sinks down
to give rise to an early dawn,
the stars fade in
to spread a new light.

the early birds leave their nests
and fly in search of new goals,
the languid air strolls,
and the river flows
with new dreams to provoke.

then from nowhere dark clouds arrive
with hail, rain and storm,
and covers the golden glow,
yet, the early birds fly
with missions in their minds,
and hopes in their hearts,
to beak through all.

piercing through the clouds
they fly with undaunted spirits,
making way for
the golden chariot to run
to rekindle the fire,
to relight the glow,
and with a galore of dreams to follow..............

Confessions of a heavy heart

yesterday I happened to attend a party which a friend of mine threw in order to celebrate his last few days of bachelorhood.Every arrangement was near to perfect, there was more than ample food, drinks and things that was needed for a dry smoke.
Vikram (name changed)picked me up from near my house,Shounak(name changed) another friend was already in the car along with Ketan(name changed). it was Ketan's party. Abhirup(name changed)was supposed to meet up at the place where the party was arranged. Other than him swagata(name changed) and bimal(name changed) joined in.
And the party started.
The music was loud and all of us danced to the beats.and the fluids flowed along with smoke.There was a time when none of us was in our senses.
And things happened as it was not supposed to. One of us started abusing, and one slept like a log,Ketan was drunk but some what in his senses and so was Shounak.today I thank God for letting them stay in senses.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in the toilet , throwing up. The drinks and smoke did their part well.My nervous system stopped working.
I left for my house around five that evening. The whole way to my house I slept. Somehow I managed to reach home.
And straight away headed my bed only just to get up for my dinner.
Abhishek, my fiance grumbled and was quite disturbed with my behaviour and irresponsibilty and how I let him down.
Later in the evening, I had a fight with my friend abhirup, for showing him disrespect, according to him I kicked him hard many a times and which I faintly remembered.Hearing this I was ashamed and genuinely asked for forgiveness, which however, which was not ready to oblidge. I don't blame him for that.
I spent the whole night in uneasiness,my soul tormented me and how I let down everyone under the effects of booze and drugs.
Today morning I woke up with an heavy head and heavier heart.
I truely understood the effects of hard drinks and drugs and how things can take a cruel turn..It can change a normal human being in an animal as the person indulged in it loses the sense of time, place, agent and worst of all loses his morality and sense of dignity and decorum.So I take an oath from to today to refrain from such things that makes me an animal.
And from this day I say I quit.

life's a satire

oh!
praises,
praises,
how much I love them,
flowers! of course yes,
I love them,
lilies,
a bouquet of lilies
to be exact,
white ones, mark it,
oh! how much i love them,
chocolates!
that sounds so middle class,
i know, i know,
I belong tothat class too,
but
no harm in camourflage,
no harm in such shows.

I used to love chocolates once,
now a strict no, no,
maintaining my my figure,
you see,the fat would do me harm,
and won't help me in my skin show,
Oh!yes, my zero size figure,
ies't it amazing
surgeries...
hush! hush!
that's a lie
badmouthers you know,
it's the power of yoga and regular diet,
of course i maintain it,
anorexic-damn that word
people love me this way,,
oh! yes, yes, my fans,
how can I forget them,
I love them all,
muah, muah,
they have made mewhat I am.

being what I am is hard,
being myself is harder,
so I don't try to be myself anymore,
maintainance costs a lot
there's a cut everywhere,
recession creeps into all,
and look at me,
I can't take tensions,
oh! how much I hate them,
it will ruin my skin,
fines lines will appear,
iI just can't afford that.

poor me,
poor, poor me,
my price has gone down,
no matter, how much I shed my clothes,
damn!
damn!
damn this recession
you know.

sigh!
life's nothing but a satire...
only if I could break through.