‘ને મૂછે મલકાતા દાદાની, વાત કંઈક ઔર છે…
વગર વાંકે એકમેકને, વગર દાંતે એકમેકને,
બાચકાંનાં ઈરાદાની, વાત કંઈક ઔર છે…
Far away, deep down the horizon,
lightning strikes and the land
that has been craving for a drop of rain,
in the hope that it’d vanish all the pain,
The wait kills. The wait grills.
Each moment, the longing gets crushing
to the extent that the land’s heart
rips apart a crack with each lightning.
But the hope remains
and gets firmer with each crack.
The void caused by the crack
gives space to the hope
for it to rope in some breath. Continue reading “Magic”
He was on the edge of the cliff, just about to jump. He did not know why. Or maybe he did. He did not want to. Or maybe he did. But actually it did not matter because either way, he was dying. His mind was the killer.
Shackled mind had cramped him for space to breathe. His mind had no vent. And the worst (or the best) part was, the world had no clue about it. It was like he was floating alone in the middle of an ocean wearing a life jacket and the life jacket had a hair sized hole in it letting the air whisper away. With each moment, without a realizing, he would sink a little.
He had no reasons to be where he was or what he was feeling. He, in fact, had reasons to be repelled by anxiety and restrain. He had reasons to be free and flying. He knew what he had.
Photo Credit: geralt
Silly fat bubble
getting gladder with growth but
closer to own death.
‘I don’t like you!’ she said.
‘Well, I can’t say exactly the same. You know why?? Because, I, actually, Hate you!’ he said and exhibited his hatred through a pattering tongue and thumb-on-nose with fingers waving.
She looked away to ignore; as every day, as every time.
He went closer to her, bringing his face right in front of hers, ensuring she sees his pattering tongue and, he wished, she receives a few drops of his spit on her face too. That would make the soul of his skewer rest in peace, he thought. He almost touched her nose with his right pinkie; while his right thumb remained touching his nose and the other three fingers still waved emulating playing a piano.
She slapped his hand away in disgust.
This was routine. They didn’t need a reason to fight; they just needed the two of themselves; nothing else, no one else. They were pro with skills to spark a spat out of nowhere and convert it into a war. They would scratch the hell out of each other verbally and often physically too.
This is how the entire school knew two eight year olds; Arjun and Vaanya!
‘Ok children, sit down.’ Ms. Maria entered the classroom and the ceasefire was imposed. Arjun went back to his seat with his sword, tongue, back in the sheath, mouth. Vaanya gave him an ‘I will kill you!’ look as a parting note. Continue reading “The Revenge”
Black is a color that makes you sick.
What is it about it that would still stick?
What lies behind it is vital.
And what it shelters is my pick.
It is not easy to hide the hurt
nor is it a child’s play to smile in pain.
If black can hide it all why can’t you?
Why can’t you act new and shining
as he does?
Why can’t you absorb the heat
as he does?
While the world keeps trying to find equilibrium between good and evil with each passing day as the sun and the star shine, my little one, you will continue growing up. It is inevitable.
As you grow up, nothing will change if YOU don’t. And everything will change, if YOU do.
There would be numerous things which you love as a kid today and the same things will end up turning boring as you grow up. Don’t let it happen. Loving something should not change just because years are added to your life. Let the child remain alive in you. Keep loving the stuff you love today. Enjoy playing in the sandpit even when you have your own little one decades down the line.
It may sound absurd if I tell you today that what you are inside will eventually end up being what you are surrounded with. It is a fact. The world is what we, as humanity, do on day to day basis. You do your bit and the others will follow. It is a little complicated than what I am making it sound here though. Continue reading “Grab Your Star”
Honestly, I don’t believe in numbers. However, some numbers mean a little more than my not believing in numbers and a little more than mere digits. This number is one of those. Thank you.
Out of the daily hassle and tussle with the world and within, when something comes up like a ray of sunshine amid dense jet black clouds, it deserves due appreciation and a bow of respect. This blog has been that ray for me. Continue reading “Thank You (and Sorry)!”
Jill: Hey, let’s go shopping.
Jack: Sure. Where?
Jill: Umm… I was thinking… Shoppers Stop?
Jack: Umm… or.. Westside?
Jill: But Shoppers Stop has a great Sale going on.
Jack: No. Still, Westside. Please?
Jill: Westside doesn’t have discounts.
Jack: I know. But, they have chairs.
The key, while entering a lock, does not know if she is meant for him.
Still, she goes in and tries to unlock what he is holding tight inside. She tries to release the shackles. She goes in with a hope of setting him free.
Even when she fails, she at least tries to alter some levers. She tries to bring some change inside him. She may not succeed in setting him totally free but she makes him believe that she tried to get him out of that situation. Continue reading “Be the Key”
A lone puff of cloud like a tiny cotton bud floats by my sight to break my concentration as I stare blankly at the otherwise cool blue spotless sky.
The cloud tries to break my will to not focus on anything. It charms me with its nothingness.
I feel captivated and my vision pans with it.
Slowly, softly, but consistently.
The teeny cloud swings on the magic carpet of the breeze and before I know, it starts scattering into bits. Tiny, tinier and even tinier bits.
Within moments, while my sight still tries to keep a track of the cloud, its snow whiteness vanishes into the blueness of the sky as if it never was. But still I know it is there. Right there. And with scattered pieces, it is there more than it ever was.
The puff of peace leaves me enchanted.
Photo Credit: Alexas_Fotos
Silly is the word for you, my dear self.
You’ve got to listen to me if you need help.
You hang on to things which don’t matter,
or, at least, which don’t matter anymore.
Sham hopes and cunning mirage, you adore.
You tax in staying stuck to what repeals you.
How are we going to move on together
unless we listen to each other
and reach to an agreement
that whatever happens, happens for good.
There is not point staying glued.
Continue reading “Let it Go”
It must have been a dream
when I thought of myself
as someone I was not.
If not, what would be the explanation
for why do I look at the mirror
and try to seek someone else.
There has to be a justification
for what makes me chase the shadow
which would not fit my jigsaw anyway.
Continue reading “The Best of Me”
I wonder sometimes
How is it that anything I do
Or anything is say,
Anyway I play
Or even how I pray,
It is always too little
For what the world demands.
The World. Who is he? Or is he?
I am the world. Or am I?
If I’m the world, how is it that
I’m deficient for myself?
And if I’m not the world,
How is it that I care so much
for him to care for me,
Or some love
for him to spare for me?
Continue reading “Misfit”
Through the safe haven
Looking at the world
Is never the real deal
Nor does it make you feel
What it is actually meant to,
What the god would intend to.
Things may seem as they are,
Right in front of your eyes, they may pass.
But they are far away from real,
When seen through a glass.
Flowers may seem blossomed
Through the crystal clear glass
But what about the fragrance
And the scent of innocence
That you might have inhaled
Had you stepped out?
Continue reading “The Other Side”
When The Odds Are Against Us
And Even We Are Against Each Other,
When We May Not Understand
Or Can’t Even Stand One Another,
In The Middle Of the Wall
That May Separate Us,
Let There Be a Window.
When Our Faces Boil With Anger
And We May Not See the Danger
That We May End Up In Just By
Not Letting It Go,
Even Through Holding On to the Wall
That May Separate Us,
Let There Be a Window.
Continue reading “Let There Be A Window”
Once upon a time, there was a poem. She was not just words. She was not just punctuation marks. She was an expression.
Though everyone would come, read her and often appreciate, she was pretty much all by herself most of the times. She would just sit back, reflect on her own self and wonder what she was. And why she was what she was.
She would avoid talking to the other poems. Even if one would come to cheer her up, she would pass. Not because she did not want to be happy. But because, she did not know if she was meant to be happy. She wanted to know the purpose of her existence. She wanted to understand the feeling that she was meant to convey. Continue reading “The Story of a Poem”
They take my Pain,
Carry it on their Shoulder
And Free them Out in the World.
Much like I, myself, Could Never Do.
In a Way that I Never Ever Knew.
They take my Joy,
Ride on them, Gleefully,
And Spray them Over the Words
That they had carried on their Shoulder.
And They Shine Better as they get Older.
Continue reading “Words”
Jill: Hey, do you think I need to buy some new perfumes.
Jack: Sure. As you like, Sweetie.
Jill: Hmm. So, you think I smell bad. Don’t you?
Jack: Hunh! *confused* of course not.
Jill: You don’t think I smell nice naturally.
Jack: You smell beautiful naturally. Fresh as mint. *pretends sniffing*
Jill: Then why do you think I need perfumes?
Jack: It is just for something better, you know?
Jill: It doesn’t make sense.
Jack: Sure, it does. It is like… umm… You cook at home, right?
Jill: Yeah. So?
Jack: Still, we often eat out the restaurants. Why?
Jack: *waits for it*
Jill: *sparks* You!!! *the chase begins*
I Am a Tad Dark and a Stroke of Light,
Shades of a Black and a Pinch of White.
I am Not Just One.
I Cannot Be Just One.
I Don’t Want To Be Just One.
I Want To Be Free.
Free To Be What I Want, When I Want.
Continue reading “A Little Bit of Everything”
She Had Always Been
What She Is Today.
She Had Always Been
What She Will Be Tomorrow.
She Had Been As Strong.
She Had Been As Kind.
She Had Been As Fiery.
She Had Been All Fine.
All This While.
Continue reading “She”
Surfacing From the Plains of Nothing
And Growing Into Mammoth Banyans,
Forcing My Fingers to Pen
What I May Be Shy To Otherwise.
I Wonder How With Each Verse
That It Comes To Life,
My Poem Shares Bits of Me
With The Other Poems.
Continue reading “My Poem Does Not Lie”
‘We should save it for the special night’ she had said. He had agreed.
The special night. The night when the stars would twinkle a tad more. The night when the moon would shine to the crescendo. The night when Swans would dance. The night when smoke would rise out of the ice cubes.
A hectic day of wedding and tiring process that preceded it, were incapable of taking away the charm of the night – the special night – for them. Continue reading “The Night”
Birds Didn’t Chirp Today
Nor Did Dew Drops Make Me Smile.
Just One of Those Days.