AS I REST

Far from separation,
Away from turmoil
I nurture a dream
That I call mine.

No reality, neither delusions of the prime
No limitations, till the end of time.

A dream that stays veiled
Away from the white and the dark peers
No measure of how pure its survival
Away from the evaluations weighing on smiles and tears.

I call it mine
In dark and sunshine
Its flaw isn’t crime, its sanctity my silent rhyme.

A dream that awakens
When a pair of eyes rest
A dream that progresses
When I go back to slumber nest

I may deceive this dream
But the dream is an honest friend
I promise I shall be a more faithful partner
But life is a tricky sea; its waves may force my promises to bend.

I am going back to sleep
Its time you light up my dark
Till the first ray brightens my soul
Stay my friend; give my imaginations a new start.

A LOCAL LEGACY

It’s mostly too late,
It’s rarely too fast
It’s never too early,
Its subject close to my heart.

I see it everyday,
See the fight royally at display
I wonder at the violence it brings out,
How we long to get a foothold in it everyday.

Amidst the world’s luxuries,
Its dullness stands long and proud
I see myself struggling in and out of it,
Am I too among the desperate I doubt?

You really need to give it a deep thought; sometimes you might have to rack your brains,
Just to understand what keeps on- the legacy of the Mumbai local trains.

STRUGGLER'S PARABLE

She feels like a fallen star,
Alone on the rugged ground;
The heights snare at her,
Her shine is fading, its unseen around.

She feels like a forgotten tune,
Her rythem lost, her melody breathless
The new song of the day has played her trick
Is time whispering, that the wait is endless?

She feels like the wretched flower,
She was promised life- a beautiful life
But the promise was an illusion and as the horizon darkens
She can see time raise that ugly slaughtering knife.

I see many of her stories everyday
Not just her…but of many hers
All for a few minutes on the 70 mm
She struggles for that blessing…while lives on the curse.

SOURCES OF DECEPTION

The Source of love- Detachment
The source of calm- Chaos
The source of togetherness- Separation
The source of knowledge- Arrogance
The source of Heights- Lowliness
The Source of Hope- Despair
The Source of Divinity- Ignorance
The Source of Life- Death
Together these sources play the game of human mockery
In unification they strike the trick we fall for
Poles apart they seem while each reflects the other
Well we are Humans….Sometimes Ignorance is what we stand for.

KILL YOUR SOUL

She was lying there. Lazily. A gloom filled the air. She looked at the clock standing on the shelf next to her. 4.50 pm. The day was not over yet. She half sat on the bed. It made a creaky sound. Finally, some sound!
She looked through the window. First day at work. It was scary, challenging, painful. She had promised to do well. Her mother had instructed her to perform well. She had left her till the work place as it was her first day today. But she didn’t step in.
Her final steps were hers completely. Once she walked in fear creeped into her system. Breathe in deep. Breathe out in one blow. Yes…It was getting better. Finally work started.
It got over faster than normal. Guess it was realized that it was her first. It wasn’t supposed to be known. But it quite helped.
7.30 pm. The evening had a chill today. She felt different. She felt confused. She felt employed. She touched her profits. She felt soulless. And then she finally cried remembering what her mother said without looking into her eyes when she was leaving her at the doorsteps of that workplace for the day- Kill your soul. It won’t pay more than the body you are just about to sell.

A NAMELESS CITIZEN

Just smiled as I stepped out of my home,

Just enjoyed that fast moving train,

Just let my hair fly in that speeding bus

Just laughed as I sat in that theatre called Fame.

Just grabbed my favorite burger at that joint,

Just rejoiced the seaside calm,

Just soothing my senses across the grass at Joggers,

Just hoped and skipped as I played my favorite game.

I am doing as much I can,I am gathering my happiness- it’s a tricky lovable catch.

I am practicing each day as my last day today,

It took a terrorist to teach me that.

I don’t know if I should thank him,

Or should I curse his being every moment,

Where will I go…What shall I do?

I am scared in my own land…I am just another nameless Indian citizen

REASONS OTHER THAN ME

Yesterday once again I wanted to be away from every hell. From never ending work pressures. From stupendous deadlines. From my voracious bosses. From everything I felt best when absent.
In short I just needed to find some peace…and feel a little luckier than the rest of my folks. Not that I wasn’t when we talk about sheer talent, but then with time I realise that you got to pay a price to be good at your work.
So I slowly slipped away from office in mid hours, got back home, changed and went to a nearby old age home. Reasons I cant explain. Probably the whole idea of being with people waiting to see someone new, making them happy, being the light of their gloomy life made me feel better. Even proud if that’s the word your looking for.
As I walk in the home a strange feeling of helplessness surrounds me. Its not the first time I am going there. Nor will this be the last time. But the feeling stays more or less the same.
I meet one and all. The sisters, the priest, ofcourse the old aunties who surprise you with a smile on their tales about how mean the next auntie is and sometimes shock you with a tear about a lot of other things.
Finally as I am about to leave I see an old uncle sitting at a sofa facing the garden. He reminds me of Pinnachio's maker. As in the same half bald head, watery eyes, half moon spectacles. He seems a little lost right now.
I go to him and speack for a brief ten minutes. He tells me that today's his son's birthday. He wants to wish him but cannot. He has forgived his son. Probably all he wants to do is hear his voice. But cannot for reasons he cant explain.
I try diverting his attention. We talk for some more time. I tell him about the latest ad I made, the new recipe I learnt, the candles I tried making, the salsa steps that I underperformed, even the blasts that have kept me scared.
He listens. Sighs.Smiles. Laughs. Looks worried. Finally Mission Accomplished is what I begin to feel. He looks happier.
As I say my Goodbye and promise to come again he stops me for a second and does something I remember with teary eyes everytime. He joins his hands and thanks me for talking to him. For giving him some of my time.
I am left speechless. I want to tell him a lot of things. But he leaves me with that unexplainable expression.
I still will go to the Old age home. But only this time- The Reasons will be not for myself.