When I asked my mother, how my father and she got up together.

Darling, I was immensely driven with the idea
That one day I’ll get the perfect one,
My knight in the shining armour.
Sooner I realised
It was a mere proverb.
But things are planned
Never to your will.

It was when I met your father,
In the whole world,
Where everyone was seeking happiness
He was seeking a purpose.
Driven with intensity
And charm of unshaken knowledge.
He helped everyone,
Soft spoken,
Respectful to olders and
Equally to his youngers.
In the beginning I felt the world will eat him alive
He was so precious indeed.

I stopped him for his generosity
I fought him to bring an end to his innocence.
But he was blind
May be he never knew how this world works.
I was done with the person,
To whom I loved the most.
I yelled, I fought.
He agreed to all my terms,
And never showed a pinch of disrespect.
He never argued,
But I could see that he was unhappy.

One day, he came to me
With tears in his eyes
He smiled and said sorry holding my hands.
‘I am a disappointment’, he said.
And handed me every possession he had.
He turned back and vanished in the wilderness.
I always knew that he was too naive to survive.
He wouldn’t get up with this world a day,
That I knew
And I let him go.

Days passed,
So were weeks and months then.
He didn’t return.
I saw each work of his.
That belonged to others,
Half of them were for me.
None was ever done for himself.
I regretted my prejudices.
I lost my life for insecurities.

I wished to go in the past
To undo my things.
But, I failed!
I gathered everything I was left with.
His memories were the last living love.
I cried, I prayed but nothing happened.
So I worked
And Worked
And worked so hard that I could at least be him.

One day, I saw him
Standing in front of me.
I was shivering,
From my head to toes.
He was changed.
He wasn’t looking weak,
He was confident
And I was spellbound.
He looked at me
And he was smiling.
After all I did, he still had that chivalrous smile.

I couldn’t gather enough of me to say a thing
So I walked to him and held his hand
Brought him back to his own world.
He was a hero before,
He came as a legend.
I couldn’t lose him again.
He was my love.
He was my dedication.

He was so respectful
Never broke my trust
Cared to forgive me
And loved as I was his queen.

I was him
And he was me.
Its been 34 years, son.
There’s not a single day,
Where I seek a life without him.
He’s my life.
He’s my end.

A page of a diary I found in my father’s closet

So I was in a relationship.
Beautiful and Blessed
For 3 long years
I saw her yelling at me.
I was manipulated
I was mentally tortured
I was used
I was destroyed.
I knew she was wrong
I hated her but I was emotionally bound.
I couldn’t step out of it.

One day, I couldn’t feel like breathing.
I rested my patience to an end
I packed all my belongings
Left them with her
And went along, where I could find a peace.

Days passed and weeks and months then.
I kept hating her and moments with her
Her memories were alive
Taking her off was a daunting task.
I was absorbed in my work
I worked
I worked
And worked like I never did.
I had everything
But never happy.

I kept thinking where I am failing
Everytime I started,
I found stopping at only one place.
It was hers.
I realised
It wasn’t she,
It was I
That I hated the most.
She yelled at me because she cared
She never did anything wrong
She loved me
She never left me.

Now I knew what I was
I was incapable of going back.
I once got back to my old place
And saw everything remained as before
Nothing went changed.
She owned the place.
She had had all my belongings with her
As fresh as I had them then.

I saw her
She saw me.
I was frozen
And she smiled
I was surprised
And she acted so normal
She held me
And whispered
‘You should have called me before coming’.
How would I?
I stayed silent.
She smiled like she always did
As nothing happened in all these years.

She smiled.
‘Whats mine is always mine’
Were her audible words.

34 years with her now.
And I can’t see a world without her.
I am her
And she is me.
This is me
And thats my end.

अबकी बार मिलना है तुमसे

सुनो, यूँ तो सबर काफी है हममें
लेकिन हमें अबकी बार मिलना है तुमसे

देखना है तुम्हे, बाते नही करनी,
आंखें पढ़नी है, खामोशियाँ सुननी है तुम्हारी

वक्त नज़रअंदाज़ करनी है, रंग चढ़ानी है मेरे डर पर तुम्हारे ज़र्फ से,
अगर जी हो तो हँस देना, तसव्वुर में हमने तुम्हे वैसा ही देखा है

रूकी रूकी, टूटी टूटी, बिखरी सी मेरी बातें हैं
रूठ जाना अगर ना आए पसंद, बस इस लिए कि तुम्हे गले लगाकर मना पाउ

आना ऐसे जैसे वक्त के फिर बासिंदे नही होगे दोबारा कभी
हाथ पकड़ ही लेना, जैसे तुम्हारे सारे रास्ते बस मुझ तक ही आते हो

मैं अगर कुछ ना समझ पाउ, तो थोड़े करीब आकर बता देना अपनी बातें
मंद हूँ और चंचल भी, लेकिन तुम्हारी सारी बातें लकीर सी लगती है मुझे

अगर पसंद ना आया तो, बेबाक कह देना,
दो वक्त बूरा तो लगेगा, फिर इमान दर्फ में काफ़िर तो ना कहेगा।

रात गुज़र गई, बंद दरवाज़े के पार आल़िम ने आवाज़ लगा दी है
लौट आओ ए हया, हूँ यहीं मैं, ख़ामोश हूँ, बेज़ान, गुम से

सुनो, यूँ तो सबर काफी है हममें
लेकिन हमें अबकी बार मिलना है तुमसे

On that Summit

I dream about the mountains and solitude.
Holding my favorite book in one hand,
And those whom I haven’t read yet, in other.
There where no one can see me,
And I see none.

The wind whistling its freedom,
And the birds singing their righteousness.
Where footfall be the only sound evident,
Each time I fall a step.
And all these Meta-living beauties
witness that I exist and I breathe.

I could do poetries in utmost silence.
Sitting on the summit, I would recall stories.
Rephrasing them, where I could act to sound better.
Moreover, like an expert writer,
Who edits his stories every while,
He seeks an improvement.

Closing eyes and feeling the breeze,
My voice echoing within and soul levitating,
Like the people who fall in love.
Even when my death could feel that peace,
Before my life could feel sacred seclusion.

It lies.

Flows there the Sea of Tranquility,
Beyond the darkness of death,
Untethering them to his liberty,
Along the credence among faiths.

Wanderers have been there before,
They say- You can get it, when you don’t explore.

’tis the end but truth
Purpose lies in Proust, never abstruce.

Madness as you know, is lot like gravity, all it takes is a little push🃏

Lying down and looking at the ceiling fan for hours has always been my favourite overthinking pass time. Have you ever noticed that with the blades that undergo a circular motion, you let your thoughts go in a sync?
Thousands of haphazard thoughts come and go in the multiplicity of events. You keep thinking about them losing the track of what was the first thought you had.

Meanwhile when you turn back to the actuality of the time, acknowledging whirring of the fan, a little vigorous than your stochastic thoughts- you may observe that the blades seem sometimes moving in a reverse circular motion.

Everything was totally an exemplary part of my version of a fine day, where my world belonged to me and me only. Until the time, where there was a terrific thud of something which tugged me back from my imaginative coolness. In the beginning, I doubted if what I heard was just a broken piece of obstacle for my overthinking- needed an immediate rule out. Consequenly, I thought to ignore it. Then I realized it can be my super-laziness savouring my utmost attention.

I saw something crawling to the floor, stained with blood. It was a Bat. I rushed to get some water- not just because it needed it but also as I needed my floor clean. And for the sake of this doomed world, I couldn’t ask it to clean my floor at least, it was indeed hurt or I would have asked that. I served it a little water- recalling Batman.

“Bruce, Why do we fall?”, I asked it.

The bat didn’t answer.

I repeated. “Why do we fall, Bruce?”.

I almost shouted.

The bat gave me a hysterical look. Soon, he must had lose his peace and attacked me in madness driven by pain and anger. I ran for my life.

Not that I didn’t look for the bat, sneak peeking through the door, I knew this new what Ra’s al Ghul did to the Batman when he reached at his door tormented and shattered.

I am the Darkness

I am the dark and love of light.
Embracing her to my utmost belongingness.

I am shadow and the sin.
I am the twilight and the final vision

I am whole and impenetrable
The secretive and unsuspecting.

I am dense and frightful
The magical and a true guide

I am the enlightenment and romantic
The merciful and forgiving.

I am your master and slave
The beacon of justice in the mystified life.

I am the Darkness!

Hopeless Pandemic

She lived in a house next to mine,
Her eyes,
her hair,
her soft mesmerizing voice
all in providence.
Perching at my window
at the dayend,
gasping through the breeze
her glance was my favorite reward.

Not like I did try not to say-
how my heart pounds in race
when she ever appears
even at my dream.

Least, I was well known that to her-
I was just a just was I.

Till one morning,

I saw her, through her windows.
She was standing firm
with the most exquisite beam of felicity.

I could feel my heart skipping beats,
never felt so so before.

Tucking that fringe of hair
behind her ear,
She softly uttered-
‘I wish you..’,
and before she could finish
someone was there at her door.

She waived her hand
and vanished
behind those walls.

What else a man in love do,
did I.
It was not just a fantasy,
or was it?

Repeating her words,
I kept learning her.
I wish, you ..
or I wish you.
Or did I mislisten her?
I saw her,
or didn’t I?

There my heart
and her words
kept making some trained dichotomy.
Minutes appeared hours
and days, years.
I was anxiously excited.

I couldn’t breathe
I couldn’t wait.
The life then seemed
small and overlooked.

I bided my time to see her again,
pining for something more than ever.
There came none.
The night turned into her youthfulness
quiet and mysteriously
embraced in darkness.

I was as cross as two sticks.
I had many a thing to speak.
Kept turning my face,
cooking all what and how,
I would speak to her,
the next.

The Sun rose,
lame me,
mere wanted her
to start my day.
I heard people crying
from her house today.

Her father was there
at that window instead.
He saw me in my eyes,
I avoided,
felt like dodging his sight.

‘She couldn’t survive the last night’,
he pronounced.
He had her mask in his hand,
They did not let us see her, even at the end.

Backing behind the window,
I saw his face.
Lost
pale
and helpless.

He was her father, indeed.

‘I wish her’.
And that is all I wish.
I saw the void
and nothingness
altogether.

That is the end,
I died before I could begin.
Lost in darkness,
Clutched in pain.
My love showered
in the deathly rain.

The lines of Watchfire

She came a stranger,
in silence,
enshrouding that anonymity
bemusing me in her whisper.

Her anger
and pain,
and laughter
Insane.

Hours of talking
And then quietude,
My gesture
was sapient,
pawky
and Shrewd.

With each word she spoke
I fell for her.
Her enchantment
was my joy,
Spelling her heart
was an ecstacy.

Then she slept,
like an infant
in her cradle.
She breathed in innocence,
drowning me in bliss,
pounded impeccable.

Bless her the world,
O Lord!
That when I am lost,
her divine beauty
and her sacredness
become my Sword.

A Letter to Posterity.

To the young minds,

Its a creative world, my friend. Finding one’s truth gives us a truth that admits of the possibility that there might be other truths. I therefore bring to the world an attitude that is open, accommodating and tolerant of others’ beliefs. Mine is not a faith for those who seek unquestioning dogmas, but there is no better belief system for an era of doubt and uncertainty than a religion of Humanity that cheerfully accommodates both.

The real alternatives in our generation are between those who believe in creating an Identity and sacrificing the comfort that they may have, and those who live their lives to the fullest, as what they think.

The challenge of authenticity, however, cuts across a wide intellectual terrain. A pristine generation that are being wounded in the struggle from being naive to a mature and experienced folks and was enfeebled and subjugated in the process should know that they all are equally destroyed and created and no one is privileged.

We are inextricably bound to the idea of being developed and eventually become insensitive. I do feel that we all are bound together not only by the tie of love we bear to humanity and by the common purpose that courses through every individual, but also by the tie of common homage we pay to our forefathers’ dream to bring a better world to live together.

If you’re reading yet and not left this note in half, I know you’re unsatisfied within and a seeker by nature. All you beautiful souls are struggling through paths which in the end lead to life reflecting your present. Hatred and fanaticism have filled violence and drenched it often with human blood, destroyed and sent the posterity to despair. The flamboyant and attractive faces would deceive you every now and then, but at the end, its you, standing alone to the edge of your fate. There has been proliferation of brands that would attract you, this is an inescapable vicious cycle, beware. Our ethos should never be subliminally reinforced with orthodox or singular mindset rather we should be generous to various ideas that would bring harmony and peace to all.

With my final words to you- that you’re unique, born with extraordinary qualities, you’re incomparable. Be the hero of your life. I’d wind up this note now.

With my love.