The Memories...

The fire is rekindled and I can feel the heat

Its pleasant but its also burning my feet.

The time I was with you, its been like centuries

Once again I'm taken over by your memories.

I want to weep; my smile is waning

The heavens are with me; its already raining.

The rainbow seems like one of your draperies

Once again I'm taken over by your memories.

I'm wandering, completely lost in the woods

Its still raining; I take shelter in tree hoods.

I remember your lips while eating wild raspberries

Once again I'm taken over by your memories.

The rain has stopped and it is now night

The scape is mystique, illuminated by moonlight.

Your cheeks and my palms are as the gibbous moon and breeze

Once again I'm taken over by your memories.

The night is fading and the sun is rising

I'll have to forget you or else it'll be biasing.

But I'm helpless, your picture is emerging from sceneries

And once again, I'm taken over by your memories.

Reasoning Happiness

He's happy but he doesn't know why
He's lost it, not quite; Still happy, Why?
He's happy; Isn't that enough?
Why he wants a reason and all that stuff?

He wonders his happiness is true or not
Can failure also bring happiness or can it not?
Moreover why did he feel happy on his last success?
So interrogative he's become; Is this the right process?

Is he happy for he's got no other option?
A dull photograph bearing a lively caption.
No, no. Not at all; may be he doesn't want happiness.
Does happiness bring him the same? Or is he happy with his sadness?

He's confused with himself,
Probably he reversed his own self.
Happiness bringing to him sadness,
And sadness bringing happiness.

He's now found the reason of his happiness within himself,
But in the process he lost happiness itself.
Afraid of being happy, he searched for the reason,
I wish he knew, being happy is itself enough reason.

The Leather of the Square

Running here and there
She's seen on the streets of Lucknow
Draped from head to toe
In fresh leather that is her own.

The leather is never washed
Except when the Uniformed men
Take her to the public bath
And assault her starved form.

Her leather creaks everytime she is washed
Unquantizable scars are left
Her leather needs oil, nutrition
But water alone can she have.

She doesn't beg for food
She doesn't beg for coins
In fact, she begs not at all
Only wanders round and round the square.

But one thing she has in plenty
Her leather; Worn out and scarred
But call it fresh for it is her own
The only other thing she has is bone.

Some wonder why she is on the square
Others, why she's in the world itself
And she has nothing else to wonder
Only, why can't she sell that leather.

The Monarch

The majestic bird of prey, so royal
The hawk; He's committed he's loyal
To himself, his family and his offspring
He's bloodthirsty and will tear at anything.

Smaller birds he tears everyday
Hungry or not, this is his way
The other aves are his subjects; he thinks
Hunts them at will; Blood on his beak stinks.

He's blessed by nature, with powers ultimate
Rules the sky; Everyone else his subordinate
Large wings, hooked beak, strong claws and focussed sight
All these powers assist him, adding to his might.

Hovering over the sky, with no complements
Hunts for his prey; Reptiles, birds and rodents
Never has he failed in his bloody endeavours
Tears off his prey and flesh he savours.

He's the monarch his kingdom lasts long
But he'll also die; for this his prey does long
The prey has no option but to surrender
To the monarch's lightning and his deafening thunder.

His death is awaited by many a prey
His age lasts long but death come may
By the time he dies his offspring is prepared
To take his place; Now he's completely geared.

All the powers now transferred to the descendant
As perfect as on whom he was dependent
So, the danger never ends for all who fly
His majesty is here again to rule the sky.

I Know Not....

In the dark I wander
But I can feel the scorching sunlight.
Is it day or is it night?
I know not.

Snow is falling from the sky
But I can feel the flakes burning me.
Is it snow or volcano shower?
I know not.

I enter my house to take shelter
And lock myself inside.
Am I a refugee or a captive?
I know not.

I feel hungry and bake a pie
And it tastes the same as everytime.
Is it sweet or is it sour?
I know not.

I take poison to end my life
But feel like immortal afterwards.
Was that poison or elixir?
I know not.

Devil's Games

The devil walks with me
Follows me on land and in sea
Never leaving me alone
Consolation is that I have
A companion in him
Otherwise I'm alone in this world
Colleagues I have many
But not A single mate
Of course mate can only be one
And that I am without
There is nothing but hollowness
Deep within my soul
And I'm basking in sunlight
From without; But still
I'm blind due to darkness
And can't see inside of me as well
Darkness within and darkness without
Only the devil can redeem me now
So I let him walk beside me.

The kohl in her eyes

In a bookstore he spots
A girl; A discovery of sorts
Because,
The kohl in her eyes
Is where his heart lies.

As I said:
The kohl in her eyes
Is where his heart lies.
He sees her she turns away
He decides then not to say.

But then,
The kohl in her eyes
Is where his heart lies.
He goes to the counter where she's selling
Braille's literature; A page for a shilling.

He sees her, she sees him
But the irony; Her eyes are dim.
And still,
The kohl in her eyes
Is where his heart lies.

Empty Bottles versus Bottled Emptiness.

While me and my friend
Are having a bottle of beer each
Sitting on the pavement on the roadside
I spot two children collecting empty bottles.

They come to us and plead
To give them ours
We say okay, just wait
Till we finish.

One of the children, a girl
Says that the other child had
Already collected many
And asks us to give her both.

We give her the bottles
But the other one, a boy, tries to snatch
And in the process breaks them
And she sits down to cry.

Tells us that the old man
Who gives her shelter
Will thrash her for not bringing any bottles
We feel pity and drink one more.

The Pilgrimage

It’s more like an excursion
For me; just a journey
To explore the world
And spend some time with mates.

On our way we find good people
Cheering us up for our Endeavour
Going same places
But they’re on a pilgrimage.

The walk uphill is tough
Taking away six hours
Of your life; is this pilgrimage
Worth all the effort?

The entrance to the shrine
Is crowded, chaos everywhere
Mismanagement, people undisciplined
Breaking queues, each making his own.

People pushing; a few trying hard
To avoid stampede
I save a child from getting crushed
And her mother’s all praise for me.

I pat that child
And ask her in general
“Enjoying yourself?”
And she answers “No”.

I enter the shrine
And look at the three stones
The deity mocking at me
Congratulating me for completing,
Rather, surviving the pilgrimage.

The Insoluble

People are good
And I float even in ether
When they are .

People are bad
And I sink even in mercury
When they are .

Either I float
Or I sink
I do not get dissolved .