Today I am not sewing a dress Maa

Today I am not sewing a dress Maa

Instead I am breaking the seams off

Causing flair to fall and threads to be visible

.

Today i am not walking alone Maa

Instead in the crowd with monotonous walk

Causing myself to blend in without standing out

.

Today I realised Maa, words cut deeper

scarring the delicate flesh

engraved on heart, I am bruised

.

Today I break rules Maa

Not listening or caring

I’m breaking through the waves

Clashing with the winds of doubt

.

So one day I’m not the one to listen..

“Today I am not sewing a dress Maa

Instead I am breaking the seams off “

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The Belief

Morning sun is like a warm hug in this cold weather,

A cup of coffee is not enough anymore,

To mellow this angst-filled(distressed) soul,

Trembling hands try to find something to hold on to,

Dithered, it misses support and falls into quicksand

Still tarried the heart believes…

…

In worry of future it still does not forget.

Archaic, tired limbs carry the reverie

Pushover but not one to give up,

It cannot help ; the promise is made and hope tethered,

Don’t be burdened weary knight,

Even if the trigger pulls I’ll be waiting at start,

In the darkest night waiting for brightest star,

Tarried the heart still believes.

Serendipity

When sound of pitter patter on the window. She knew it is rhythm of rain cleansing dust and chemical mangled with air. The environment is in tiff circulating between guns and roses. Heady from wildness of social life where everyone licks their fur to look pretty or changes colours to blend in. Her mind was at peace she had found her destiny.In night a dream whisperer, spoke softly in her ears. Speaking sweet nothings he would always take away her fear. The dreams were vivid like reality into play. They convinced her they would be her reality some day.Constellations she had seen , people she had met were similar in many ways. In those moments, she was sure the line between dream and reality can be crossed. So she convinced herself to be fearless to face reality head on and wait for dreams to become her serendipity.

The Path I Follow

The path I follow….is lit with moonbeam 

Surrounding area is filled with darkness 

But the path I can see clear

On horizon, mist is settled

Many have been on this path

Only few could make it through

I will be one of the few

‘Coz the path I follow is lit with moonbeam 

The path I follow is lit for me.

Fairytale Reverie- The Hero

To the Lords above, the hero who cannot be reached.

Further away from reality an elegant arm is in breach.

Trying to create swirls by caressing the faceless air.

Conspirator, an outlaw uttering scandalous apellations.

Spurious claims or honest dreams are all just hallucinations.

Devoured the view until the darkness settled before eyes.

Then sweet angel drowned in time, too little too late to find.

…

Her long mane forms a halo and as she lay…

Alone upon a cloud on the ground she is grave,

Even a shadow cannot touch her, sire,

Your face is etched in lines and the forest is on fire,

Clutching a rose to her bosom she is floating in her reverie,

Kings, Wisemen and Knights all from nearby land came,

To preach or to pray, to bring her out of her reverie they say.

…

Her spirit floats above her out of the web they create,

Mankind is in dire need all of their selfish actions claim,

The kindred of all will not listen until out of the pain,

The wizard say only she could beseech,

To the Lords above, the hero who cannot be reached.

I Know A Man Who Wants To Die

I know a man who wants to die. A man who spent his entire life in a vague mist of daily chores. Never was he interested in what life has to offer. Never had I seen such a waste of talent.

He didn’t put much thought to others around him. As if concentrating only on his own welfare can keep the equilibrium of the world. To him written words are sense of understanding; work an ethical drama in which he played the lead and to raise a family, mandatory convention of society. So he earned an honest meagre piece of bread and never took a bribe or holiday. Also, he never tried to better his life as he was content,

He married a woman no less then a princess with her beauty, intelligence and haughty behaviour. Not because he fell in love with her but because their family arranged the match. The princess was supposed to be an ideal woman to raise a family with. But his dream actually did not extent to raising a family. You see he was pampered spoilt beyond comparisons while his dreams shattered because his parents were scared they would loose him. Just like Rapunzel not allowed to venture into unknown territories for one’s selfish reason; or like Sleeping Beauty not to get his finger pricked by a needle as he will fall into infinite slumber.

In his old age he speaks of death in respite. A relief from pain in which he lived for half of his life. The pain always alluded in his stomach troubling him sometimes he said for a day, then days to months but never this pain receded. Why didn’t the pain  receded if he took all his medications on time and with proper diet? And as he walked many his age looked at him in envy for the old man could walk. Still it was not and could never be enough for him but why? Maybe the pain which alluded him was not in his stomach but in his mind. He seemed uneasy in company always preferring the old kins over new chums and sometimes old kins were too much. In large gathering you could see his lined-face in anxiety. His hands moving along from his head to cheeks in wonder. And it is then he actually seemed in pain. People were loud with their pleasantries, questions, and raucous laughter. He never felt alive in anybody’s company not even in the princess company. So, he wants to die.

When I was in Delhi

 

Bird Eye view of Jama Mazjid, Red Fort, Jain Mandir, Gauri – Shankar Mandir. Courtesy:- Chandan Khanna.http://www.chandankhanna.com/

When i was in Delhi I walked through narrow gulleys

Finding differences in every nook and corner, yet something was familiar

The scent of old world invades the senses; fragrance of modern state keeps my stances

Working my way through grey clouds, every season here is extreme somehow

I bargain with a street vendor over the vegetables, my basic need

Somehow I end up buying a branded shoe hefty on my pocket, my basic salary

Regional sections that we have parted; in nature of calamity it is one-sided

Walk in the gardens near India Gate I feel national pride

Thinking of 16/12 I feel abhorrence and dislike

The eyes are glazed such mystic is its power

You and I by the lake hand in hand walking near old tower

Frenzy in its maze, we are all lost to find a cause here

Candle march on eve, morning toil turns metaphor to staunch here

In a gist i cannot speak of the memories, dreams or reality I lived in this city

When I will cross its threshold I discern the city’s heart will still beat within me