A note of 10 rupees flies through the damp sky,
Perhaps some well-to-do might have dropped it,
Perhaps he might have even forgot about it
Or just didn’t give a **** about it.

The parentless piece of cash floating carelessly,
Finds shelter in the tender palm of a young boy,
The No-worth paper finds immense value with him
It’s now become something of great joy

With the cash in his hand, he leaps off of happiness,
With colors of imagination about to paint its spoilage,
“Should I buy the machine that roars?”
“No No, I’ll buy myself a castle!”
“Or should I buy some toys with this?”
Perhaps he’d never seen paper of value,
All he knew of wealth were some old wrinkled coins,
“Aman”, yelled his partner in crime,
“What do you have there?”
Both of their eyes gleamed with innocence,
The Cash allured them to spend it, To waste it

And now- As they walk proudly,
Acting like the richest people in the world,
They get the shock of their life.

They wanted to buy the whole shop of sweets,
But
The Shopkeeper handed them few pieces of toffees
With gentle hands clenching on the sweets with young rage,
With disappointment and realization they exit the stage.

As the morning songs initiate with singers of feathers,

As the hellish darkness calms with sunrays of answers,

Comes a beautiful new day in the un-urbanized,

The father with his sickle goes on to fetch green to his beloved,

The mother wakes up in devotion and chants mystical speeches

The children wake up with energy of a lifetime

Enough to get them through their carefree lifeline,

The people here are simple not bothered by Mondays,

Nor are they very  happy when there are Sundays,



The birds still chirping, the streams still flowing,

Children with their silly little games, above them the sun still glowing,

People from the country are bored, no TV, no network,

The Villagers instruct them to keep their worries aside

And enjoy the organic meal prepared

Enjoy the carefree environment before the troubles reappear

With a sip of water that’s sweeter than life

They carry on their silent relationship with their wife,

Life here is different, time works strange,

Afternoons are silent- could one be deranged!



A spider likes the one seen on TV lurks from the corner,

In the garden a snake, quite venomous is noticed,

The elder with one courageous might sweeps off the snake

The on lookers are awestruck, taken back by his might,

An hour in the afternoon is like an asylum

So Silent, everyone sleeps due to the heat waves,

The sound of chainsaws are heard in the distance,

Could deforestation be marching?

The sound of engines roaring,

Could the corporate be lurking?

To “modify” the landscape and make it more “mainstream”?

They’d destroy the peace here with a showcase of their money,

Deploying clouds of steel over what was once sunny!



The shining orb of the night returns after her shift,

The Sun with it’s protruding glamour leaves the scene,

The children scatter from the trees and hurry back home,

The elders with their “doko” full of green currency retreat,

In the end, the silence abrupt the call!

Perhaps, it’s now the Owl’s turn to howl!

A Beautiful Day in Heaven comes to a halt….

A Beautiful Day in Heaven comes to a halt….

There erupts a quarrel between the five senses,

Who among them has the most significance,

Is it the eye who is the perceiver?

Is it the ear who is the observer?

Is it the nose who is the moisturizer?

Is it the skin who is the sensor?

Or is it the tongue who is the taster?



The Eyes says it's him who is the mightiest!

He sees the beauty, perceives the stars; the shiniest!

Sees the flowers, trees, bugs; even the tiniest,

However, he lies, he says he sees the inner beauty,

But we know, he's after the external; he's guilty!

He can't see purity- limited is his duty.



The ear goes next, she is the master of interpretation,

She gives us pleasure, the sound of nature and it's creation,

The calm sound of streams and birds without filtration,

However, she is not perfect, she prefers to hear gossips,

She is the reasons for dispute and strains in friendships,

She is evil and intrigued to break relationships.



It is the nose's turn, he gives us sensory pleasure,

He identifies odor- sweet, bitter, lovely-All flavors,

From flowers to soaps, ranging to natural odor,

However, he fails to smell the foul in the air,

Gives us dissatisfaction, sensetive to anything near,

It gives up instantly, as soon there is something it can't bare.



Skin's turn is up next, she comes in all colors,

Unique and special in it's own tone, like flowers,

She senses all natural gifts, she senses nature's showers,

However, she is unruly, she is a distinctive status,

Only favoring some, it becomes an inferiority apparatus,

Between sensory love and physical lust, towards the latter it is gratus.



Finally, it's the tongue's turn, he presides over taste,

Gifts of God- fruits, edibles, he engulfs without haste,

Anything that gives him joy, he never throws it to waste,

However, he is highly defective, he likes drugs,

The taste of it, puts his adrenaline high- sugar rush!

Verbal abuse is his thing, after this don't expect for hugs.



Hence, we conclude.... All the senses have their pros and cons,

The eye with blindness for internal beauty,

The ear with deafness to morals,

The nose with blockage to nature,

The skin with insensibility to hugs and love,

The tongue with nullness to moral taste....

He asks me, what is humanity? I tell him;
We are as vast as a field of meadow,
Like the countless flowers that bloom,
Each of us, a different variety of flower,
Some, like the roses- Beauty with thorns,
Some, like the sunflowers- Guided by direction,
Some, like the tulips- Beauty with diversity,
Some, like the daisies- Innocent and jolly,
Some, like the lotuses- Adapting in harsh floras.

He asks me again, what is humanity? I tell him;
We are as spread as the distant Star field,
Like the countless stars that radiate,
Each of us shine and emit our own power,
Some shine brighter, their beauty we adorn,
Some are black, some white, all beautiful- God’s creation,
Some morph into comets! Such complexity,
Some are never discovered in the vast void- Not Golly!
Some radiate excellence, Differing are their auras.

He’s awestruck! Taken back by the beauty of humanity,
“However, there’s a catch”, I say
Humanity is as dead as a graveyard,
Such a hurtful place it is, containing a silence that kills silence,
A place so sinister, it breeds violence,
Arena of corruption, A colosseum of hatred,
Humanity is such a place which destroys the sacred,
“Who kills their mother?” Simply – Humanity,
You wouldn’t want to go there! It’s a ticket to insanity,
Humanity is as dead as graveyard! They **** their own kind,
Believe me boy, It’s not for your gullible mind!

With the cry of a tigress and the beauty of stars,
She fell to Earth from her mother's womb.
Like a bird, she longed to soar-
Like a leaf, she learned to fall.

Her brother was adored; and she was his shadow,
A flicker in the light they reserved for Kings,
Betrayed by her own, yet still-
She dipped her spine in ink and painted wings.

"A woman's hand," they scoffed,
"Was made for holding, not for breaking."
So she raised hers to the sky,
And pulled down lightning for her naming.

They hurled their rocks and built cages around her,
But there exists not a cage, strong enough to hold the storm.
They asked, "Who gave you the right to fly?"
She smirked, "The same God who gave you the Sky."

After years of flight, she was no longer a shadow,
Her brother could have his birthright!
For she claimed something grander than that-
With wings now like an Albatross, she claimed the sky.

She claimed the sky

I am Icarus as I yearn to fly,

I am Icarus as I sore through the sky,

I am Icarus as I want more and more,

I am Icarus and the sky, I Adore!



I am Icarus as I tend to forget

I am Icarus and later seem to regret

I am Icarus and greed gets the best of me

I am Icarus and only a fall can break me free



Even when I'm gone, my absence will hurt them,

Even when I'm gone, generational will be my name,

Even when I'm gone, I will leave a mark,

My wings burnt and withered- Illuminating yet Dark!



Reliant on aesthetics, I tend to forget nature,

I can't bypass it, Afterall- Human is my stature,

Such madness over crossing human bounds you might ask,

Penetrating limitations might be my greatest task.



Damnation and Mockery- my reward for such foolishness,

Satisfaction and Idolation- I yearn for completeness



My wings might be a commodity,

But my flight is a necessity,

You might forget or might you'll remember me

The leap I took and what completed me



I am Icarus and you might call me a fool,

I am Icarus or you might think my act was cool,

Well It doesn't matter to you, Does it?

In the end I'm just a fragment in you memories!

But for me and for generations to come,



I AM ICARUS!

I picture myself in a realm of love and grace,
With my beloved- away from this society’s ties,
I picture waking each morning in your warm embrace,
Share a deep kiss whilst staring into your eyes.

Our bond is an unspoken taboo for this world,
What’s nectar for us in their eyes is blood,
We want love nonetheless, but hate is hurled
The serenity of our love disrupted by this society’s thud!

What has my identity to do with love?
When all that matters is- he loves me, I love him.
What has my gender to do with love?
When all that matters is- she loves me, I love her.

Love is for the brave, not the coward at heart,
They might whisper, shout or even try to tear us apart
Love is for the brave, it’s neither profane nor sacred,
And ours is fueling the fiery pyre of hatred

Live with love- Live with pride!
Kiss me now, let’s rise and glide.
They’ll hurl their dogma, their hate, their lies,
From our burnt ashes, we’ll yet arise,
Let us break bonds from our chains,
Kick off the hate and rinse off our stains,

“Love is for the brave”
“Love is for the brave”

Is it merely just a paper?

Born from nature, molded by hands

Timekeeper of history, curator of mortal demands!

From the moment a kid scribbles their first doodles

To the moment a person records his last.

Is it merely just a paper?



A child’s canvas of boundless dreams,

Where letters dance, and colors gleam.

An artist’s appetite for creation,

Where he shapes his imagination.



A man’s plea of proposal, a revolutionist’s voice

A royal decree, a gift! Or a nation’s cunning ploys,

An innocent airplane, a love letter or a terrible ransom,

A waste or a cheque of money- quite handsome!



It has the power to bring tears or a simple smile,

A bridge between hearts, across many a mile

In ink, in lead, in blood or in gold,

Written in it are valiant stories to be foretold



Written in it are-

“A B C D”,  “1 2 3 4”

“Apne matbhedo ko bhuljao aur Halla Bol !”

“Rohit weds Archana”

“He fought with honor”

“Sorry mom and dad, I couldn’t make it”



Carrier of Joy, Carrier of Sorrow

Plight of yesterday, Flight of tomorrow!



Is it merely just a paper?

I know a place where the Sun doesn’t shine,

Where kids rejoice and the adults whine,

Where Glacier of lies and rivers of deception intertwine,

Where they enrich the young with the money and the adults with wine,



The Ministers lie through their teeth and promise upliftment,

The poor are deceived and are fed more punishment.

They have no concept of Day or Night,

Anytime-Every time they struggle to fight,



The Kids exuberate innocence and liveliness

While

The Adults showcase fatigue and tiredness,

It’s been years since they’ve heard those promises

It’s been months since they’ve opt for progressiveness

‘Impoverished, Imperfect, Unimportant”, call them what you may,

But when you’ll see their  hungry eyes and tiring demeanor,

You’ll have nothing to say.



Their generations

And their generations,

Will keep living this way

Unless the bureaucracy decides to help them,



Their generations

And their generations,

Will keep on suffering

Unless those in power come to hold them,

Till then,

For Eons and Eons and Eons and Eons to come

They’ll keep on wanting,

They’ll keep on crying,

They’ll keep on living,

They’ll keep on surviving.

You ran along the lush green garden with your hair flinging along the lines of air like soaring kites.
My mind was stuck in a whirlwind while you anchored me with your touch.
You held my hand and locked my fingers within yours.
All I could see was your crescent smile, your fleeting dimples softening like shadows at dusk. As the wind crossed us it left a cold longing within our hearts that was hard to name.
The breeze lifted your hair letting it dance freely amidst the diaphanous haze. Gently, I unfurled my fingers from yours and ran them across your heavenly face, tracing the contours of the most beautiful sight my eyes had ever beheld.
I was so lucky to have you and you were happy to have me.
Butterflies- pairs of them- fluttered around us, and for a moment, we stood frozen, our gazes locked, lost in each other
Lost in time,
Lost at a great time-
Lost in the moment
Lost forever.

I once was a pirate, terror at sea
Sailed past all currents, tamed the fiercest beasts,
Kissed the wild waves, achieved unmatched feats
Mortals shivered, the o-cean; scared of me!

Cursed was I, heart a lock; needed a key,
Tasked to venture where even God retreats!
My crew fled- left to face my last defeat.
Drew my sword- if I were to die, Let be!

Long hours I searched, until at last, drew nigh
A maiden, one unlike I'd ever seen
Each breath, each glance drew me ever closer

Realised there was no key, it was a lie,
Drained my soul, to claim me was Death quite keen,
The Siren sang death, The pirate's wrath; over.

She's stripped off of her jewel,
Her roots burnt- Her cries; petrified,
She gives life and we take too much.
Her gifts; unfurled and pain implied,
Her house; deprived and she as a house-
Perished.
And then we wonder,
Why the winters are colder?
Why the summers are hellish?
When the protectors of it are
Vanquished.
Even in death- they're pillars,
The pillars of our homes
But who will come forth to save?
The pillars of Blood and Bones.
When the pillars themselves are turned into
Logs of red, saffron and brown.
It took her years to grow-
Years to put on her green gown.
While it took us minutes and hours to cut her down,
No time to bid goodbye, No time to weep,
Broken down by a tormented painful sweep.

In the sky as the children gazed,
They saw not a prism of rainbow
But ***** of fire-
Burning orange, reeking of death.

"Ceasefire, they said" the words betrayed
A mother of two lay dead
A father of three; beheaded

The echoes of joy, no longer reciprocated;
Only the cold shrill of silence repeated,
"Abbu, run faster" "Ammi ! Behena ! Bhai !

The skyline burnt with the missile's glare,
Children- elder, in smoke- filled air
With each minute; a corpse found,
Their homes now buried underground.

Their leaders chant "We'll avenge, we'll maim!"
So they trade blood in the same old game-
Missiles for Missiles, name for name.

The cartographer's pen trembles
Drawing borders in erased pencil,
While the land bleeds real ink.

Hospitals bombarded, Cities destroyed,
Only the schools remain,
But what use of it?
There are no students left to train?

At the UN, they count the toll
While the cemeteries overflow-
Your calculators can't handle the numbers!
The suffered missed on countless Decembers.

Oh God! What sins have they to repent?
How many dawns must break?
Before the children see a rainbow again.

A silent weep and some tender sobs draw me close,
Close towards the shadowy figure standing in the distance,
With every breath – every step, the urge in me grows,
His cries get louder, matching my footsteps as I advance.

Around his neck is a garland of flowers and his body -pitch black,
His stench of cremation and deception is that of a wack,
He starts crying violently with every breath I take,
“Oh! Shut up, I’m just trying to help for God’s sake”.

(In a manly voice), “They killed me! They took my money”
(In a girlish tone), “They mutilated my corpse! They thought it’d be funny”
(In an ageing voice), “They killed me! They killed me for my property”
(In a sobbing sense), “They killed me for my thoughts, they called it Blasphemy”

Startled I yell, “Don’t you dare pull a prank on me!”
I know your goon ways and I know about mimicry,
At that moment he looked at me with hollow eyes and nothing else,
Suppressed black it was, the feeling of cowardice in me nonetheless

“I’m the embodiment of dead souls”, he says,
“Millions and Millions reside within me
I take in these wandering, tormented souls-
Unfortunates who never reached their goals.”
A betrayed lover who slit his nerves
A soldier who died on the field he served
A poor pregnant woman who died during labour
A poor fellow who was out of nature’s favour
“I am the home for all of them and soon yours”

“What?” I yell out, giving out a confused smile,
Then, it hits me:
I’ve been dead for a while
A drunk driver hit me and I lay there dead, alone-
Today was my birthday and was in a hurry to rush home
I couldn’t move now that I had confronted the unknown.

He took my hand gently and added me into his collection,
I was one of the Poltergeists, one of his many complexions,
I shed a tear when I realised I won’t be seeing my loved ones anymore
A strange feeling came over me when I realised
I was NO MORE

I was but a Poltergeist!

As prismarine rivers flow beneath mighty mountains- Uncharted by nature and resolute by force,
We Gurungs, with hearts that burn like amber,
Set out on life's unpredictable course.
Symbolised by a Sheep and steadfast as it's horns,
We're simple- but cross the bounds,
We're like Roses; Beauty with Thorns!
Shepherds we are; we graze the earth and all that it offers,
But when it's time to protect our flock (community), we don't care what thrives and what suffers.
With the Tungna at peace and Khukuri in blood,
We know the way of flowers—and of flood.

Fairness; garlanded by Purbeli Kantha, ornamented by cheptesun,
Warriors; accompanied by khukuri and honor in each ounce of blood,
For what can stop us in the battlefield?
When our rage burns like towering walls of fire!
For what can stop us in the battlefield?
When we're not afraid to surrender ourselves in ceremonial pyre!

Blessed with the blessings of 'Aap' and 'Aam'
For our honor is love to us-
We will give up our lives than sell our ethics.
We've always lived by honesty and shall keep living that way
And till then "Chhyaajalo" if you stumble our way.

Ragged, bruised, *****- yet a happy small boy,

Roams around the streets of this wretched town

He’s a small bundle of misery with a bit of subdued joy,

He greets but he’s met with an unsolicited frown.



The town folks are irritated by his situational ploy,

He has no one in this world he could claim as his own

But he has all the sands of this Mother Earth to enjoy,

Why is his life like this? He hasn’t even a sin to atone.



He talks to a girl although, his only ray of hope,

Her name he doesn’t know but knows she sweeps,

She drives him forward in life’s steep *****,

But today while playing- she doesn’t smile, she weeps.



She says with teary eyes and a broken smile,

“My father has set my marriage with a washer man”,

It was hard to comprehend; he stood there confused for a while

“Would she run away with me?” but quickly discarded his plan



For what could he provide her with? He hadn’t even wealth,

Love can never be sufficient for he didn’t even know if it was love,

He knew he couldn’t even provide meds for her health,

So he let her go, he let her fly in the sky as a free dove.



He attended her wedding from afar with a cold heart,

He wanted to cry but his tears were adamant in his eyes,

He knew it was over- they were forever apart,

“She was just a friend, I wasn’t even in love” coping with lies

But letting her go wasn’t easy- it burned,

He packed his things, and took pain as his prize.



He moved on from the place, never returned,

To a new nest, with no answers or goodbyes.

Dubert, Dubert! I call, behind a closed door,
To no response- I kick it wide open only to look at his fading self,
His silence spoke of burdens, his eyes grim as hell,
A rope tied to his neck, a stool on his floor
Long was he gone, all he left for the world was his tale,

It begins with,
“Oh, it’s a boy! A future bearer of the crown,”
Hell-bound with responsibilities,
Always happy, was met with frowns,
They warned, “If you don’t work, you’re a ghost,”
Societal shadows cast by those who judge the most.

"Men ****, they cannot be *****,"
"Men ****, they cannot be killed,"
"Men are ruthless, men are cruel,"
"Men steal, men break every rule."

"You're so fat, a bus won't fit you,"
"You're so thin, a breeze will blow you,"
"You're so short, the park's your place,"
"Look like an ape, the zoo's your grace."

Kindness finds no soil to root,
In this graveyard world where empathy is mute.
A graveyard of love, a desert of care,
To find warmth in this chill; quite rare

Dubert, Dubert I cry, the silence now profound,
His unspoken words and my sobs, the only sound,
Waning stream of his sorrow, eyes fixed on a fading reality
In his clutches, a note, perhaps his final plea:

"I was framed, I swear it wasn't me,"
I held on to the truth even though none could see
and even if they knew, they'd let it be.
If Chronos were by my side, time I'd wish to borrow,
Sadly, I breathe my last- I'm happy I won't see tomorrow.

Dubert swore it wasn't him,
Yet they blamed and killed him,
He professed truth, he retaliated with facts
In the end, he was smothered with the same hands that fed him.

With failing faith in God, he climbed the chair,
Truth in his eyes, fear in his heart, betrayed by his "Dear"
His last words-
"Oh! Cruel world, may you release me,
Oh! Merciless God, in darkness, liberate me."

Dubert was no more, a life unjustly taken,
Dubert was no more, a soul forever forsaken.

On the periphery of Delhi, I recollect as I was on a tour,
A boundary barred the rich metropolitan society and the hellish slums,
My eyes, they landed on a barefoot group of boys- four,
Hello! I called out, they immediately scattered and greeted me with a joyous smile.

Their leader was the smartest little man I've ever encountered,
Raju was his name- full of energy, life and joy
He took a liking towards my golden watch which was a bit tattered,
I gave it to him and I swear I've never seen a much happier boy

His friends congratulated him as it was the most luxurious thing in their inventory,
Poor kids- the state and class in which they were born was pure involuntary,
I asked him, What is your dream, Raju? What is it that you desire?
He smirked and said, A lifestyle, a job, some money is what I want to acquire.

I ponder, the things we call basic necessity are their basic tools of "survival",
The things we discard and waste are their means of revival,
What do we lack? The latest devices? A less comfortable bed?
Poor fellas don't even have a roof over their heads!

I ask him, Raju, what is it that you want to be?
He says, I want to be like our Saheb- successful and rich,
I ask him, How will you do that? His eyes squinched- he gave a twitch,
He was blank and clueless about how his torn destiny he could stitch!

In retrospect, I was blank too as to what was my purpose,
I realised that I had no visions as well, I was worthless,
I gazed upon their innocent wandering faces and made up my mind,
My dream was to be an educator and teach those whom I could find!

That day a conversation changed me forever,
It changed the way I thought and saw the world,
It changed me and with my old self, I rebelled,
That day, "The Vision of a gentleman" moved me,
It changed my carefree attitude, it improved me,
It changed "The old me", it constituted "The New me"