Moving On

"There are no easy choices, easy choices are long gone". Therefore when I need to console myself for a choice I make, I sit out in the rain. There, no one asks me stop pretending, pretending to be innocent. It is there I realize that I am not the only one crying, but do 'men' really cry or is it any sort of abeyance if they do?

I hate societal rules, I hate being answerable to anyone except myself and I hate being hated. And, when there is so much hatred that exists, I want to fly away to some place where I can learn to love..

As it rains harder, the skin on my fingers wrinkles as if it says, 'There is too much to absorb' and it is this moment when tears form but only to mix with the rain and fall on the ground. But to my joy, there is no one to notice those tears and call them fake. So, with my wet, matted hair, I lie back with my eyelids fluttering at the prickly sensation and try to look at the colours in the sky. I try to move on.

An Ode on the Death of a Favourite Dog

Chocolate eyes and milky fur,
Asleep in a basket for me to nurture
A pink eyelid his birthmark,
Days from now and he would bark.

Sweet but restless he would hide under the bed,
Only to be seen was his peeping eye.
And when I pulled him away to the terrace,
He would bark at the birds in the sky.

Though he grew with time he was never shrewed,
And he never growled when I was near his food.
And even strangers would'nt have shewed him away
Because he wagged his tail and gave them way.

His skills included his ability to stand,
And when he did this we could never reprimand.
On his hind legs he would balance like a praying sage
And this ability became better with age.

He never barked at strangers ever,
So he was loved by all and thought to be clever.
He loved the taste of chicken and egg,
Though he segregated the yolk and the leg.

Off latel, I lost him to a plague,
But his existence will never seem vague.
His barks and jumps will never go
So will the things i learnt, ones which my teachers wont know.

He taught me how to stand amidst all the hate and treason,
He taught me how everything that happens has a reason.
He taught me how to take all the things that come our way,
Then stand with placidity and learn to give away.

In a week I shall visit his resting place and call out his name.
He would come barking and play his favourite game.
And then I shall free him of his leash and collar
And say that the sky is all yours....I love you Dollar.

Life Through Four Strings

Laughing, crying, raucous or sober, I think of songs
A lot of them.
I embark upon how true they are when they fit into the empty spaces,
The incompleteness called life.

These songs are not written for me.
Neither will they be played when I am alive or dead.
They will be as ambiguous as the simplest of thoughts
And as convoluted as the superficial tears on the side of a cold glass!

My thoughts and I do not synchronise,
No wonder why I pen down such confusion.
But in my desperate attempts too, plays the song.
The song which will be no other person's to take away from me.

I know that I am low.
The sun does go out when the night arrives
And then even the flower cannot make me smile.
But then I hear the song again.

And then when I've drunk to my fill on the melody,
I smile and try to be what I was meant to.
I try to do what I was meant to
I try to get what I was meant to.
And I play the song.
The song called my life.

The Golden Lining

Sunlight, moonlight and all possible specs of brightness,
Estrange his soul from his body and cast it on the floor.
A place where his soul is a mere shadow, a patch of gloom.
Defeated, depressed he looks down and takes a leap.

A moment of contemplation and he is no more air borne.
No job but a happy wife, less money but a lifetime to achieve it.
A freckled forehead but strong hands to still make it happen.
A bald patch but feet still steady to remove this ambiguity from life.

A moment of realization and no more air rushes by.
He knows that his soul is the sun, not the shadow
They were all wrong when they said with grandeur,
That every cloud has a silver lining...it has a Golden one.

A moment of regret and gravity ceases to exist.
What of the happy wife and the wasted lifetime.?
What of the dreams woven in the light of the sandman named God?
What of a second chance they say that each human deserves?

The moment of truth, a red car and people walking.
A shattered windscreen and screams overshadowed by a laugh.
The laugh of his shadow which will no longer be trampled upon.
And up above it rains as his soul weeps for a second chance.

Innocence

Do you see the same beauty when you notice the sun through the leaves today?
Do you still feel afraid when when you are walking and you lose your way?
Do you still count the stars, give up and sleep ?
Do you still lay by your phone and wait for a message beep?

Why don't we feel the tingle now when a lover is about to kiss?
Why don't we run out in joy when a teacher says, 'class dismiss?
Why don't we feel enough pain to let love go away?
Why don't we tell a friend, 'Don't leave me alone, stay?

Innocence is the answer to all the questions I ask.
We have so much of everything that we forget to bask
In the small things of life which once had so much meaning,
We hold a dusty conscience which needs healthy cleaning

So today as you walk, watch the green leaves glimmer,
Venture into unknown places, till the lights get dimmer.
Try to count the stars as eyelids flutter and  slowly close
Wait for a loved one's message, as the bud waits to become a rose

Slowly kiss someone you love, like its your first kiss
Dash out of the class when you're told, 'Class dismiss'.
Hold your lovers hand and tell them you still love them as they sadly walk away
Tell your friend as they leave the room, ' I need you now, Don't go...stay'

Then smile to your self, the joy is immense
Find yourself visited each day by your innocence.

Will go where it belongs!

A Grey but ecstatic autumn leaf, leaves a Gulmohar tree and flies away.
Leaving a orange horizon far behind, at its peak in the month of May.

Painted in hues of Dorian Grey, to find a color new
Catches the rhythm of the wind, discovering the true meaning of true

Drowned in fathoms few, blown a few miles
The will undeterred, red skies or broken tiles

It finds it's way to the  green eyes and white palms of a dying man
Its beauty finds a mirror, amongst a diary covered in leather tanned

Endless winters it endured, endless perils were left behind
The leaf became a bookmark, to the vagaries of an old man's mind

Hence came the time, a black Toga with an iron sickle
Life is the juice of nature, it stays for a while and then it trickles

Buried underneath a Gulmohar tree, the man and his diary of songs,
The leaf may travel a million miles but will go where it belongs.

Astral Dreams

Air came by and whispered in sepulchral tones, "Darken the starry night which the moon hones"
This dream was based on precepts unknown, Where I could fly but the rest merely bemoan.
I saw a woman so sultry and petite, I flew to her with no known fatigue
She held my hand and with a sensuous rhyme, kissed me to an unknown paradigm.


A slow beat changed its pace in my heart as her finger touched my lips apart,
I dared to put my inhibitions away in overtures and cresendos: A rhythmic sway
Wings perspired a heavenly dew, Known by many but felt by a few
The night was dark but a scent did flow, the moon in an aura : A silver glow


The sun ascended, its rays flooded two trees, with roots entwined and leaves swaying in breeze
I knew that it was time to go, Last night I had flown dangeriously low.
Before I left I asked her for her for name once more, She whispered, 'I am the one you adore'
I woke up into a reality so flawed but I slept a mortal and woke up a God.