It’s My World

Being bold was not what I always wanted,
Except last time when I wore a skater skirt
People judged me from the length of a piece of cloth..
And I for once, knew that bold was too easy!

So I tried a new one, each time I walked out the door..
Each time, with a little more confidence,
For me, this was so liberating
Being Confident was not home-grown for me after all.

Then I saw a group of women
with posters in hand, forming circles
Probably raising slogans for one out of many problems
That they had to face, since god knows when.

I happily obliged, and stood in the centre,
My voice soon amplifying theirs, at will.
This went on for a while, and I could tell,
That this was certainly not being taken well..

by people from the opposite race,
who probably thought this was just disgrace
women talking about their pain
How on the earth does that make a case?

Those judging me for the length of my dress,
were now capturing each word I spoke,
Calling me names when it didn’t suit them,
and painting me in rough, grey strokes..

I was no longer bold, they said to me..
And so did I feel, I had become someone else,
Even the ladies turned away, and watched,
As my character was murdered on the TV cells.

Dipped and drowned in the waters of shame,
I lost everyone, and had no one to blame..
Everyone blamed the dress! I was shocked,
Just because it was small, like their stupid claims..

Being bold was never what I wanted,
but here I am, misunderstood more by each passing day, minute and hour..
Maybe they were right, the dress did matter..
The length of it, proportional to the amount of power.

Power that discriminates so much,
doesn’t question right or wrong
and it’s so always been this way,
I’ve heard this since so long..

Knowing what’s best, I’m slipping away,
into darkness, and my favourite shortie,
I don’t speak for what the others think of me,
This is my world baby, and you aren’t invited for the party!

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Night Owl

I am a Night Owl.
Don’t remember though, when did I become one?

10 PM

This is nothing new, you would say.
We all have been up this long to mug up CBSE notes,
Or watch a nobody win the bumper prize in a TV game show.
I wait today, however, for a cab that takes me to home from another hectic day at work.

10.30 PM

You feel this is probably too late to have dinner,
But here I am, still waiting for the cab to start, since there is a hell of them in line.
I just finished talking to my mother, and my sister too,
Who like every other time, mutters something in her sleep to me.
I am told, she misses me.
Someone tell her, I miss myself the most!

Anyways, the cab has started now!

11 PM

Dinner is not so welcoming again,
But this is needed to fuel me for the night.
So, I have it, and then go around for a walk.
With street dogs running close to my feet,
They should have been supportive of my presence by now,
But for some reason, they aren’t so.
And I get back to the rest of the night, after sipping a hot cup of tea, of course!

11.30 PM

I perform my customary rites – check mail, blogs, and Twitter.
And then spend an hour on YouTube for listening to the rants of The mighty (politicians),
Just because I am responsible for choosing a good leader.
Problem is, to me, all look the same, each passing day!
So I end up voting for Donald Trump! (Relax, I am kidding, and so were all the Americans!)

12 AM

Sleep calls for the first time to me,
And boom! It’s time for me to visit the balcony.
With a bottle of water in my hand, I reach out to the powers of nature.
I kiss the wind, feel the few dew drops that are lost.
And then, I sit there for so long,
I forget that it’s time when P(M) changes to A(M).

1 AM

Now, I switch on the PC,
And for the first time in the whole night,
I think, and start writing them in my notebook,
And then cross some of that, and re-write some again,
Almost the matter of life and death, until I end up with – writing This!

Home and Love

Just Home and Love..

These words are small
Four little letters unto each;
And yet you won’t find in the entire world
The wide and gracious range of speech..

Two more, so beautiful and complete!

When angels talk in Heaven above,
I’m sure they have no words,
more sweet than Home and Love.

Just Home and Love..
It’s hard to guess which of them were best to gain;
Home bereft Love is bitterness;
Love without Home is, well often pain..

No! each on its own will never do;
Somehow they travel hand and glove:
If you win one you must have two,
As I say, both Home and Love.

And once you’ve both, then take my word
You’ve earned it to sing the whole day long;
And trust me whe I say this, for I don’t lie
With both on your side, nothing could ever go wrong!

And so I praisefully repeat,
In symphony with my own heartbeat..

When angels talk in Heaven above,
There are no words more simply sweet
Than Home and Love.

Let Evening Come

Let the light of the late afternoon

peep through chinks in the barn, moving

up the walls as the sun goes down.

Let the cat purr, with absolute delight

as if it’s yet another happening day,

What if not for you, but then, Let the evening come.

Let dew appear on the peripheries of

the abandoned, long grass. Let the stars appear

and the moon take out her silver horn.

Let the street dogs get back to their “homes”

Let the wind go quiet. Let the shed

go black from inside. Let Evening Come.

To the bottlenecks that hurt, to the pain in the heart,

to air stuck in the chest, so that you cannot breathe, Let Evening Come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t for a moment

be afraid. God has plans for all of us,

So My dear, Let Evening Come!

The AfterLife

We met a thousand years ago by this lonely window,
I was a wild rose then, growing by the square shaped piece of wood..
Well, I can see you have replaced them with a bunch of new ones,
Clearly, some would say, that’s a bit rude..

Forests of memories walk past cold, greying doors of the house,
yet the burning sun always rises outside..
Trying to bring alive those emotions that have crept within,
and pushed back of your head, and behind..

Lost scents hang lazily from an old, heavy sky,
sting me like rain on abandoned nights..
I think I need my own moon now,
My dark afterlife isn’t suited for broad daylights..

I can sense the unnoticed hate in the air,
The wild roses; every now and then, forget to bloom..
but this window, however dead from within, still remembers my song,
That happened to be my toast, to you, from my own room..

Winds are blowing secrets today from shy, distant mountains,
bringing back the time where you meant the world to me..
Words have woken up, like frightened children on dreary nights,
The window, that danced to my songs, fails to believe what’s out there to see..

The Woman In Red

When new in Town, You can’t trust your own..
But still, he followed a woman,
Boy, this story is so on!!

It was Christmas, and red all around,
He was new to the city, wandering like a hound..
Out from behind those bars, it was a night of Merry,
All he was looking for, was some wine and cherry..

When out of the blue, she called his name,
He turned back, and their eyes met..
She was nothing he had seen before, he could tell,
His heart beat went as fast as a ferret..

Her Shining eyes, surreal as two night moons,
The kohl surrounding them, as the clouds do..
Little did he know, in that moment of brain-fade,
What dangers he were falling into!

She took the lead, and he gladly followed,
She told him, “Let’s get you home”..
Her eyes twinkled, her face almost wrinkled,
But he stood helpless, for now appeared stoned..

They finally reached, what looked like a Tower,
That stood well amidst the clouds..
“And now for the dessert”, she flashed her red fangs,
And pounced on his neck, with her mouth!

“Watch out Lady, that’s not how it’s done!!”
The woman listened in Shock, letting him go..
He stood there, one like her own,
Only he was quite a pro..

Two Originals, stood across from each other,
“I’ll teach you everything”, the man-Vamp exclaimed..
On that chilly night, the Tower watched in silence,
When the “Woman in Red” was tamed.

The Lone Witness

The room is cold and sterile,

Bereft of sensations..

The walls exude a chill,

As if from the coldness within, a story spills..

Trying to make up for the gloominess,

Unnoticed, yet very evident.

As the cat rests in slothful idleness,

A behaviour clearly marked by the absence of one.

One who meant something to her..

Flower in vases put beside her, fresh from the morning,

Their leaves However, rasping sad stories of estrangement –

The kind that was probably too hard to face..

And rightly so, he jumped out,

Out of this very window, as if on his own death race..

Realising in vain, that “She” wasn’t the one anymore,

More importantly, confused whether anyone was..

He mumured at will, “The world is spookish,

And in a strange way, anything but bookish…

Love, hate, how confusing have they become,

Bring Happiness for a handful, Disaster for some..”

“Well, if he only thought once about me,

there wouldn’t have been such a necessity,

How I would have loved to be near the man,

Whom I loved dearly”, the cat thinks as she only can..

But alas! The bewitching hour is spent.

The man’s beating heart stills..

And the the truth unveils.

Like an anti-climactic ending of a chapter,

There’s a suicide in the colony’s campus,

And once his lover, the cat, now the only witness..

पहली उड़ान

काली-स्याही से पटे आकाश को चीरता, सुर्ख नारंगी सा सूरज निकल रहा है ।

पेड़ की अंतिम डाली पर बैठी है इक चिड़िया,
और इस साहसिक क्षण में साथ उसकी माँ है।

चुनौती है उस नन्हीं जान के लिये, कहीं दूर उड़ जाने की,
मन की आशंकाओं की सीमा लांघ, फिर अपने पंख फैलाने की..

डर रही है, विचलित हो रहा शरीर कंपन से,
यादें कुछ आज भी ताज़ा हैं बचपन से..

एक दौर था, जब उसने दूसरों की उड़ानें देखीं थी,
कुछ तो अव्वल थे निकले, पर कुछ से हुई बड़ी अनदेखी थी..

माँ की नज़र बार-बार नन्हीं पर जा रही थी,
सब समझती जो थी! सो मंद-मंद मुस्कुरा रही थी..

यकायक नन्हीं को पास बुला कर बोली माँ,
तोड़ दे भय की जंज़ीरें, आज अपना साहस दिखला!

तू उड़ भी सकती है, लड़ भी सकती है,
कई बार गिरकर भी, उठकर फिर आगे बढ़ सकती है..

सीमाओं में बंधना तेरी पहचान नहीं है,
चुनौतियों से पहले हार जाये, ऐसी मेरी संतान नहीं है..

कर विजय का निश्चय वो नभ की ओर फिर उड़ चली,
रोकती उसे जो रेखा, आज वह थी सिकुड़ चली..

ये माँ का ही समर्पण, त्याग, बलिदान और विश्वास था,
कल तक अजेय आसमाँ, उस नन्हीं के काफी पास था..

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