When I was in Mumbai

Across the border of states I found a place where dreams come true
From pauper to prince so many stories I wish I stared into
The city is a hunter of dreams and I’m a dreamer; a paradox it seems
The rain splattered an earthy tone as people kept splashing towards their goals
Unrequited love the sea has with the city walls; waves kept splashing on lifeless rocks
A trend has set and mind is made in the city maze, weary are the towers to storms thunderous games
Between roar of sea and the city I always walk the line, forgotten are not lessons of history in cognisance of time
The palace stood astute old as an age, even the slums are not vacant acting on the daily stage
Many demons plagued this city all in vain, the pulse of valiance beats into city’s vein
Creating ruckus move on in this helter-skelter life; In brink of darkness saviour is city lights
When I was in Mumbai with every possibility I was alive

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The Mausoleum of Thoughts

In the paradigm of life everything is placed in order

The mechanism of which advises you to move forward

Any uncertain delays leaves heart pumping fast

A tear of rage bullies mind and shuns the warning cast

Hapless sit wringing hands waited to be interviewed

Alike disection the conscience probe leaving you to stew

Sitting in front of looking  glass, finding faults where they exist not

Each day the Granfather clock ticks,spending in ease precious time

Heard he not from the grapevine, that its soul of sloth

Everyday creating a new possibility trading reality in cost

Closest memory is a vain attempt to dream

Closeted fears floats the boat in irrational stream

Seemingly on every moment thesis is  formed

Gradual with maybe’s “And I belong but ..where?” question stalks

Complex webs the neverves forms inside the skin

Speaking a language, stuttering the good deeds and sin

Aftermath, is where the batttle is won or lost

And then he  moanfully  looks  at the mausoleum of thoughts.