First Flight

Sorry. But it won't bring you back
that which you were supposed to have only once
Did they hurt you too bad, they usually do
They took away,didn't they, your only first chance.
They let you know the harshness, those bastards
They cut your wings at your highest flight.
They gifted you reality, oh!what good!?
They always choose the worse of good and right.
They made you afraid of clouds,poor bird.
Now you seek that metal cage to hide.
Don't fly away from yourself,tell me
Let the sun be your aim, me the guide.
Fly through me,let us be one.
Though they broke your faith besides those wings.
Let me build that faith,save it forever.
Let me be your sky,the song my bird sings.

First Flight

Numerologically se7en, Dunno when

A rude meet through satellite waves,

A chat begun on June's 3rd day.

No reason why they talked, but did

Their roads met the dot com way.

Thousand thoughts swirled the mind

none 'Adios','Aye', nor 'chao','ahoy'

Thousand possibilities, a billion more

An Indian Bandi and a Desi Boy.

The girl kept busy with life's struggles

The boy too proud to say he's alone

They had their reasons on June 2007

Too many reasons, little known.

A strange truce arose with the chats that came

No hand was raised, not that they were dumb.

They shared all that words can share

But none asked where those words came from.

Not a hint to say 'I knew that soul'

Besides few words on the Gmail log.

And of course the boy's pictures were shared

And they visited each others blog.

Wonders realized through the tamed mind

Not itching to lose what is hard to find

How many have your own Casper,

The Tooth-fairy, The Zoo, The Angels divine.

'We can be good friends', one of them said,

'if we meet.' through numeric tales.

That 'dunno when' meeting they fixed

is approaching the clouds at the speed of snails.

They talked with grace unharmed with time

They gave themselves to their Gtalk clone.

The girl grew deeper as he knew more

But the boy too proud to say he is alone.

Happy Birthday IS THROUGH ME!!

Numerologically se7en, Dunno when

Crowd Of The Sinking Progress

Atonement of paradise in unholy times.
At peace with disparity, we hide
The things of worth, bestowed to cherish
With the things of worth we decide.

Credentials of all we would like to claim
Perish with the fall of our lives.
The Speed is fast, the direction unchecked.
And fall we shall, stumble in precise.

I'm aboard the same boat, know it'll sink.
But I did not want to be left behind.
People always dread looking backwards alone.
But,in this crowd, what but loneliness did you find?

Crowd Of The Sinking Progress

A House That Stood Six Years

Through a wire that brings light,
I switch on the tube,wake up to realize,
I have cherished only hope for future.
No memory to adore, No past to despise.

I cannot possibly miss her,
What did I have, I repent losing?
Few pages make no library, I'm empty of you
But I can't ignore what your absence did bring.

Evident it is, I'm losing faith and hope.
Justified,say some, and justice too slow.
Not easy breaking what stood six years.
Whose walls I built, of foundation i do not know.

Patrons I have, whose faiths build through mine,
They realize the trembles, may have guessed a fall.
I am too weak to stand alone, a shame,
Broken and released, never again shall I build a wall.

A House That Stood Six Years

Northern Skies

April winds are blowing South.
Said his soul would breathe,
When his world will be,

A day with Light, no dawn, no dusk.
Trees are left behind
As his train speeds by,

Through guiding rails, Northern skies arrive.
Distorted lives,
Their cynical lies,

Fall in eyes of those waiting at home.
When no miles recede,
His train stops for him,

To realize , there blows no wind this time.
His April winds,
They never blew south.

When we move ahead,
The world runs against,
Northern Skies arrive.

People wait at home,
As he moves ahead,
Southern wind’s against.

For his day of light
should he fake progress,
or Should he end his race?

Should he stay where he is?
Would we stay where we are!

Northern Skies

Abrupt - Any then from now

Abrupt, every end is,
Any then from now.
All questions are yours for the taking.
All your questions on how?

Abrupt, all ends are
All ends, all we sought
All we fought, all we thought
The nothing we have, the everything we have not.

Abrupt, it is but greater than itself
Ends are sudden, true be it
What it ends matters though
To whatever’s end came not in this skit

Abrupt, the twists in play of time,
The roles are small but void is none.
The measure of existence, life in our case
be damage by abruptness we’d undone.

Abruptness, Universe’s best weapon
Against those, flee not who,
From the truth, all stages have sequels
No end is valid, for the same no beginning’s too.

Abrupt - Any then from now

HONEY AND SAUCE

I was on my way from Dhaula Kuan to RKPuram sec-3. It’s a 8 km journey and never takes more than 15 minutes on an Auto-Rickshaw. It was my return from my Aunt’s Place. I had just given my cousin brother(who’s on the threshold of his class 10 board exams) some advices on his approach to studies. I was really happy with the way I had delivered my role in his preparation. Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day, teach him how to fish and you feed him forever. I had just done that .

The vehicle halts at the Moti Bagh Traffic Signal. Another 43 seconds before we can resume the monotonous journey that so many people might be pursuing everyday. A white Santro joined the wait to our left. Just ahead of it was another Auto-Rickshaw . I couldn’t make out who was inside, not that I wanted sub-consciously to do so either. Somehow, I was attracted towards that hemisphere of my field of view. I did not see anything unusual of Delhi streets there. Or did I?

Convincing the person (people) inside was a young boy ,barely five years old, to buy the day’s issue of Mid-Day. Of all that’s peculiar and outrageous besides his age, was his mood. He was skillful in making use of his poverty .He had the capability to ensure that the emotional chords of the person are struck . He made his statement with more body expressions than words. He deliberately acted mature and respectful which is unusual(for even grown up street people).He showed the bold headlines of the Mid-day and emphasized on the accompanying picture, obviously he could not have read any of them(wonder if he ever will). He had somehow cracked the code for attaining higher success in his salesmanship ventures. He was living his childhood with experiences I have not yet bothered to uncover. The Lady in that Auto-Rickshaw gave him a 2 rupee coin.

It is in my nature to relate remote possibilities. I stare at the same hemisphere of view while walking in my thoughts. I feel lucky for what I am. For I could have been just anyone else , maybe you, maybe that street kid. But I am wherever I am because of all that ever happened before this moment of thought. The existence of a divine purpose is controversial and hence not included in this depiction of thoughts. I am not blessed for the same reason as in the last statement. Any Mr.X would be lucky if he had gotten something nobody else had. But I do not usually to judge happiness through monopoly or the fact that I have left the world behind.

Now, should I grade that kid as Lucky ? An obvious thought is no. But I love and respect remote possibilities. Not being harsh on perceptions and opinions, I would say that kid has been Lucky .He may one day rise above our highest dreams and dig below our deepest thoughts. My thoughts get reinforced when I see the marketing skills of that kid. The thousands of street children that are not aware of the chances that they can have an impact on the world seek help, not pity and sympathy. But, we have it imbibed within our brains(most of us do) that they need food and shelter until they someday their hearts pause permanently in some dark alley. It’s not everyday that we as prisoners of the prevailing social order try to wonder about our life if not what it is now.

My hemisphere of sight crashes to check what is tapping my knee. I have that kid with a few copies of the Mid-Day to my left. I have a ‘The Hindu’ waiting at my hostel room(I despise masala print media), but nevertheless I buy a copy. I give a 2 rupee coin too. He sees a 5 rupee coin in that slit of my wallet. He asks if he can have that. I look at him in the eye. He possessed no reasons to falter, no answer to any questions of shame. All I found in his eyes was a question back at me, If you think it is wrong what will you do to help me? I have to teach him how to fish. I gave him that rupee 5 coin too and gave back his Mid-Day. 43 seconds ended pretty slow. The Auto changed gears. I sped past that kid still there at that traffic signal. I had to reach somewhere.

HONEY AND SAUCE