A day's Dairy

1. What if I make a boat,
where would I find a river?
there aren't enough tears left inside
to create a new one anymore.

2. They grow taller each day, spreading its branches all around and its shades are always so sweet and breeze so soothing that carress the traveller's soul.

3. Will time wipe out the tears that hides in the nature's eyes?

4. I need some sunshine now because in darkness all colors look the same.

5. Sometimes our vision gets blurred, only time can wipe it clear.


6. The fields cried for some rain and then it drowned itself in it.

7. I've seen death, death is beautiful, an eternal sleep that rests the soul into a calm chamber.

8. The road keeps a vigil on the tired soul, the green hides the blues but a storm is brewing and its still a long way to home.

The lonely sky

Even the vast sky seems lonely. In her many light years of vigil, she has met zillions of celestial bodies, gave a billion star a place to call home, yet her emptiness never ends. Does she hope any more? Perhaps she still does. There is a vacuum to be filled but the black holes seems to grow with age. But she has learnt to be still, learnt not to give up, learnt to have faith in fate and learnt to belief in purpose of life. Even the vast sky is lonely because perhaps even she has a life. 

Cornered

Amid the darkness of all these wide nights,
rudeness of these inching walls,
stony gaze of the overlooking ceiling,
and the stillness of silent time,
chokes the breath of life.


His voice reverberates against the walls,
I speak to him in my heart,
Plead and rant in vain,


I close my eyes and surrender,
Life -- you are my only grief.

I marvel at the stillness of the night
what fate awaits the kite?
the sky is full of self doubt and apprehension,
will it ever find its destination?

Spread you winds and fly

let your flight torch the sky

the world is still alive and so are you,

make a final try.

Fill your lungs with breath and sing,

let your voice touch nature's core,

the world is still alive and so are you,

don't stop anymore.

Strengthen your legs and run,

and set alight your pathway,

the world is alive and so are you,

keep your worries at bay.

How do I gauge the pain of the earth?
how do i measure the biggest pain of all?
get me a scale which can weigh the tears of all,
each drop of tear is a stone which strangles the breath of life.
how do i tell what is the biggest pain of all?

All days are the same, no alarm clock, no splashing sunlight and no gust of morning breeze. A buzzing cooler blows hot air, a ceiling fan spins reluctantly, together they join to caress my tired soul every morning. 

Tired eyes after years of vigil in my nightmares, seek solace in the stillness of the nascent moments, lying wide open for a zillion seconds, they blink only to push the nightmares away, only in vain.

I brush my teeth, eat breakfast, peruse through the Times of India, often just scanning through reluctantly. I sit in front of my computer and look vacantly at the screens, often ruminating over the thousand brilliant ideas which were born and grew inside my head before  losing shape in the darkness of the night.

Sometimes, I string along words to describe the thoughts that didn't allow me to sleep for many nights but the words doesn't seem to be mine. They are more of borrowed alphabets from the things that I read and hear all through the day, I tempt them, try to sell them the ideas but they always stay away, they are never mine, perhaps never would be.

Sometimes, I do jot down some words, which takes the shape of paragraphs before losing its way in the vastness. They look for me to guide them but then I fail them and they keep wandering stubbornly amidst the debris of thoughts, sometimes picking something on the way in their quest to find home. Most of the time they are lost, while sometimes they surprise me and come back home. 

The failure everyday piles on, gives me a melancholic feeling and then the failure becomes a part of my existence. I keep fooling my heart into believing that all these failures would be someday turned into some magic treasure troves from where I will script my success and they still believe me. Thus I still keep walking and so lives my dream for a better tomorrow.

Happy Birthday!!!!

It all keeps coming back to me,
the seconds, the minutes, the hours and the days,
the candles, the cakes and the wishes
the celebrations and the emptiness within,
the poems, the expressions and explanations,
-- all look the same, feel the same,
Sometimes I wonder if I skipped a year?
sleep walking each moment,
Moments which shrink at some corner of the canvass,
inch by inch they spread, completing the painting.
But then even the colours look the same,
the brushes and strokes,
the vibrancy, the dullness,
the shades and lights,
the lines and the curves,
In all their rebelliousness, there is obedience.
But they still look and feel the same.
Its all coming back to me once again
the seconds, the minutes, the hours and the days.