No words to write...
How should I express?
What feelings would suffice?
Tears and pain; now couldn't be healed.
When we suddenly found pieces of bullets and blood.
Served on a plate meant for Dal and rice.

In their ovens and woks.
They are now boiling hatred and false provoke.
The life-giving herbs are not real—
They are but camouflage of life ******* shrubs.

And what for?
for the call of Freedom which already prevailed.
Now, after this treacherous act,
Killing all innocents— now who would you hail?
You took away the city's soul —the prideful flair.
That day—when you washed off that sindoor.
And laid that coward's rattling snare—
a proclamation illegal and unfair.

Don't call yourself a human.
A human's job is to observe and care.
Don't call yourself a human
Don't you dare.

The pain,
the unravelled truth.
Avenged vermillion stayed awake
amid the peace-calling warcry.

Lost lives, lost souls.
Ashes burnt the happiness.
In coffins, they buried the dreams.
Smoke smells grave —
shelters piercing borders.
Stones pelting people,
an action naive.

We all have witnessed this immersive rain.
Do they always tell a story of disdain?
The fierceness and sadness intertwined —
an outcry of our testing time.

A soul for a soul.
The theme of warrior's vengeance.
A cyclic psychology.
A provoked retribution.

Perhaps something is above humanity.
Something is above divinity.
In brevity —
we forget the art of living.

“We stand as one.”
A phrase engraved on the holy ceiling.
But the truth is —
to us, it has no meaning.

Standing on a musing stage,
I heard a song of you—
It charmed me like a whimsical siege.
Here I stand with a guitar,
Much like that poster star.

The breeze, the aura—brightened flora.
Wands of notes.
Spells of lyrics.
Love is real, not a gimmick.
It is a wizard's trick,
From this real world to wonderland,
Hovering like a magical hero on a broomstick.

Magic is music—
Music is love—
Love is the act;
Witness nature's timid tact.
Hands swinging together,
That dance on the ring,
Swaying beats—
That groove, that heat.
Rhythmic percussion of love,
Melody of magic.
It is their play, their tapestry.
They are siblings of poetry.

What does the dream say?

I come to you to fulfill you.
How would you fulfill me?
That's the question.
What to do?

Think of me as your companion,
Pushing you out of the pavilion —
The rebellion —
Who keeps your nights awake.
Who shakes you and makes you race —

It could be a stage.
It could be a phase.
It could be an emotion that longs with your age.
I reside in you — your soul's purpose,
A dreamer's quest,
A worthy challenger to test.
Till you achieve it, take no rest.

Own each and every fight.
May you achieve all new heights.

What does the tree say?

I am whistling and rustling,
Harried by the wind’s hustling.
Even without moving I know this world’s folklore.
I am a weapon, I am a page.
I am the binder of this soil.
I am the protector of this stage.
Still humble, I am a home to many.
I served my duty by being a shade to a divine sage.

You still don’t understand my worth—
What to do?
Then there would be no earth.
I feel sorry for you.
Your creations, your stories,
Your verses, your dreams.
I will tell your glory still.
If you let me live…
If you let me live, that would be another story.

What you perceive — I perceive it too.
What you receive — I receive it too.
What you feel — I feel it too.
What you hear — I hear that too.
I have everything. But I don't have you.

Does it feel like we are a thousand miles away?
It's been days since I last saw you.
I do know what you have been through.
But still, blurred visions turn my heart grey.
Am I worthy? Will you stay?

Shallowness has deepened its roots in me.
I don't know what shall I do.
In this crowded world — without you.
There is nothing new.

I don't even remember, How longing feels like.
I don't even remember how alone I was, that night.
You freed me up in the air like a loose kite.
You must not bother this rhyme.
Just pouring my heart—
I am already out of sight.

Relishing noises but silently.
Fighting with my own thoughts violently.
Questioning my belief about myself fervently.
Nudging and judging—
Quest of my own journey.
This hailstorm is pouring over my soul ardently.

Tired from my own test.
My brain begged for some rest.
I closed my eyes.
And found your face.
Like in the movies of the west.
The reflection written on a holy sect.
The one which feels pleasingly nice
When a wound touches ice.

Healer heals the weak.
I heard there is no medicine for my heart's tweak.
No cure, no remedy!
I have become a real life comedy.
I am now a clown of the town
with a throne-less crown.
I am just a clown of the town.