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Jan 2020 · 182
Out of Place
R Arora Jan 2020
Of course people will forget thee.
You will be left out.
The last man chosen on team.
You aren't a part of them.
You'll never be.
You don't speak their language.
You don't eat what they eat.
You can't connect at all;
That's how being out of place feels.
Growth happens only at the end of one's comfort zone.
Aug 2019 · 617
A Sad, Rainy Day
R Arora Aug 2019
Oh my, you really could not see,
That I was gloomy.
Just as the grey clouds,
Outside the window - the sun's shrouds.
You were more curious about the drops
On the windscreens,
Instead of those
That were rolling down my cheeks.
Okay this is a twisted and exaggerated version of the exact feeling.
Also, I was really bored.
Feb 2019 · 642
Being Honest
R Arora Feb 2019
I got hurt,
Because I felt,
Truth comes first,
But you couldn't take it,
When I said it to your face.
I'm sorry, I can't fake it.
Now you're pretending,
Like it's all right,
Man, I know what's going on,
This is a psuedo-fight.

I'm getting hurt,
For I think I'm hurting you,
I feel guilty,
For things I didn't do.
I'm no celebrity,
But I can't lower my standards,
And celebrate mediocrity.

You can't accept what's true,
It's not my problem,
I'm working on myself, it's clear I do.
So, one day when I'm on top,
And still here will be you,
Y'all gonna say,
Man, lotta time flew.
Sounds better when you read it like a rap.
Finally the words have spilled onto the paper from my heart.
I despise the people that cannot handle others' success.
"Work hard in silence. Let success make the noise."
May 2018 · 561
I am a Sinner
R Arora May 2018
"Please don't be so kind-",
In August I used to say,
"You'll spoil me wild",
Oh look, it's already May.
"All humans behave the same; selfishly",
I told you that's what I thought.
But for you, sheepishly,
Several angels on my shoulder I fought.

Now you know me well,
And you seem quite bored.
You are compelled,
To look at the next best name on the board.
I am forced to ponder
Are you bluffing now, man?
My thoughts wander,
Looks like your concern was only a sham.

Is being warm to people not a nice thing to do?
For me, you have been such a ******.
Perhaps like everyone else and you,
My selflessness should have been slimmer.
While this royally consumes me from within,
Now I am convinced that my kindness is a sin.
"No one is too busy in this world. It is all about priorities."
Sometimes we slip down someone's list of them.
Feb 2018 · 696
All Hearts are Broken
R Arora Feb 2018
They were each other's apparently,
Shrouded by the words: "Till death do us part".
They actually meant: "Only until-
Someone new crosses our path."

What happened to honesty?
Where did loyalty disappear?
Replaced conveniently by deceit,
Morality sits in the rear.

With ulterior motives,
Promises are made; I've seen a million.
I'm not being cynical,
Just practical in opinion.

The heart, hence, is stupid.
Steered purely by dopamine;
And that's why we have a brain.
Do not dwell into the irrational,
Tread carefully,
Life is a tricky mind game.
Be sensible.
Do not trust your heart. It can be diabolical.
R Arora Nov 2017
We all have bad days,
And just now must be mine,
What are you smiling at,
Haven't you had thine?

Rejections and failures,
And numerous palls of sadness,
I've pulled through these before,
I have got the finesse!

Although some confidence gets undermined,
And my fate is, apparently,
In the hands of you- an imbecile;
But I am still okay to walk on.
Surprise, surprise! I am not dying.

One day the tables will turn,
And I want you to feel what I feel.
I am not looking at revenge,
For neither are you made of steel.

I think I will let go of it,
And the time shall move on,
For that's what it does best.
As for me,
Skilled sailors were never made by the seas
That were the smoothest.

Patience is the key.
Inspired by Chase Goehring's 'A Capella'.
November poem done!
Oct 2017 · 526
Beautiful Things
R Arora Oct 2017
Reading a book by a tree,
With sunshine dancing on the face;
Walking down the beach,
On a lazy pace.

Stargazing, with a loved one;
Wind flowing through hair;
A delicious, soft cake,
That no one shall share.

Walking barefoot on the grass;
A nice hot cup of soup;
Feeling cold morning air against the skin;
Sunsets- fantastic scenes to shoot.

Travelling solo for the first time,
Feeling responsible and independent;
Making a friend out of a stranger,
What a happy accident!

A smile, never seen before
Giving reassurance;
Reading travel diaries;
Camping close to a forest.

Capturing memories
In photographs;
Singing along- loudly,
To the favourite songs.

The sound of the rain,
And filling lungs with petrichor;
Falling of the first leaf in autumn,
Only to be followed by more.

Stay close to the nature,
For none of these require using a gadget,
Best things have always been there,
Even if they are counted as ******.

Learn to appreciate,
The smallest of things in life,
Before it all succumbs to-
An egoistic strife.
The world already has a lot of critics.
Sep 2017 · 397
The First Spell
R Arora Sep 2017
"With your tiny drops,
Can you obliviate my memory?"
I ask the rain;
I am scared of the happy ones,
For I know,
I can never live them again.
When the blues hit.
Aug 2017 · 681
Laugh it Off
R Arora Aug 2017
Will your world come to a halt,
When one day my breaths will do;
Or it will be marked by laughter-
The signature of you?
"It may have escaped your notice but life isn't fair"- Wise words by Prof. Snape.
Jul 2017 · 546
Rough Days
R Arora Jul 2017
The tears uncried,
The respect left behind;
Shame visible on face
No, this is not just a phase.
Oh, the humiliation!
It cannot be borne any more.
Will the soul give up?
Can't say for sure.
It fell on me-
The thunder,
**And I got buried
For someone else's blunder.
Lemony life.
R Arora May 2017
Mondays were not that tough,
Although each day was pretty rough.
I knew a lot of people,
and my experience there was not feeble.
Seldom did I get bored,
Smiles were not often forced.
I wanted to be home soon even then,
But my face was never ashen.
Saturdays were the Fridays,
Homework was not an enigmatic maze.
Just yesterday it feels,
Was my first day of school;
Today, I am sitting in front of a desktop,
Trying not to be a fool.
Insults were forgotten in a blink of an eye,
In the crowd of people, now I am asking, "who am I?".
Target of the day was to win a game,
Not to chase a deadline, or escape some shame.

Why do we have to have a rebellious soul?
Perhaps to blame life for taking a toll.
It's not easy to go with the flow,
Specially, when against you, the wind would blow.
Sorry, a pessimist here.
Mar 2017 · 1.1k
The Bargain
R Arora Mar 2017
I was exhausted of sitting in the car,
In traffic jams at noon.
Travelling a distance too far
In an attempt to reach soon.

Glad I was home when I expected,
I started telling my Mum about the day.
I continuously blabbered,
Not giving her any chance to say.

As I was done speaking,
She asked if I could come with her,
"Sorry, I can't", I  said after thinking,
Shopping isn't something that makes me feel better.

"It's the grocery to be bought", she said,
Hoping that I might budge ,
I denied again,
And so she struck a bargain:
"I was thinking we could have sweet buttermilk."
I heard without lifting my head,
and with a child-like grin, I began to trudge.

I can control my desires well,
But I am a foodie with a sweet tooth.
I'd be in heaven, I can surely tell,
If I have book, couch and food.

"Choose a shop before we are way past it,
It was fun today", she said, smiling.
Isn't this what we live for?
It is the time we spend, and not the lure.
I was unknowingly overcome with guilt,
And we reached home, while I was still thinking.
21 March, 2017
Jan 2017 · 778
R Arora Jan 2017
Observing the lives today, I found them pretty clichéd.
People  are  doing  boring, average  things,
Belonging  to  the  same old  category;
Lined up in a queue of monotony.
Though,  some  souls  do  exist,
Who love to step out of line;
Who despise falling in.
*Those are the ones
Who stand out.
Imagery. ^And this is not clichéd ;)
Dec 2016 · 900
Do You Feel It Too?
R Arora Dec 2016
Sometimes, I have a strong urge to write;
One fleeting thought in my mind,
Eager to become a poem on paper.
At times, I am able to calm it down,
Save the thought for later;
But often comes the moment,
When the vessel is full,
Brimming with words,
Longing to ink the paper,
And become sentences.
I can feel the quiver of my heart
As I reach for the notebook.
The grip at the pen,
More confident and firm.
That's what happens to me,
When I sit down to write.
How about you?
**Do you feel it too?
It's the desire to write.
Oddly enough, an article on Vikas Khanna inspired me to write this.
R Arora Dec 2016
You wrote 12 lines,
Which we spent several minutes on;

You wicked, wicked woman.

Playing with words,
Simple words;
Arranging them
In an ordinary manner.

For us,
*Creating a labyrinth.
To Stevie Smith's wonderful poem- Not Waving but Drowning. :)
It was complex but witty.
Dec 2016 · 1.4k
The Airport Bus
R Arora Dec 2016
Forty seats,
Occupied by 40 different personalities.
The destination,
For now,
Is same.
Just passing the time:
Gazing out of the window,
Talking to a stranger,
Engrossed in mobile phones,
Taking a nap.
Or writing,
*Like me.
Wrote this on a bus.
Nov 2016 · 792
R Arora Nov 2016
All credits for this poem go to my friend, Shuchita Mehta; who I hope now has confidence in her writing. :)

Every single day of my life,
Has been spent in silence.
This has become a routine for me.
A routine which I never wanted;
A routine where
Without speaking a word,
My loved ones are hurt;
A routine which makes me feel miserable.
Silence: *I hate you!

We both don't get along that well,
I hate you because you make yourself available,
I hate you because you comfort *ego
I hate you because without you,
So many problems could be sorted;
I hate you because you depress me;
I hate you-
For you have compelled me to write about you,
**And not speak.
Oct 2016 · 2.6k
Life is Beautiful
R Arora Oct 2016
Life is not a garden of fragrant flowers,
Life is a chef's kitchen;
Some things get burnt,
Some are frozen,
In the end, it all tastes well.

Life is not a cycle ride down a smooth road,
Life is a bumpy journey uphill;
There are sharp, blind turns
Plus an upward *****,
But the view is magnificent.

Life is not a perfect picture captured by a DSLR,
Life is a photograph shot with a 1.3 megapixel camera;
With no editing allowed,
The sky looks blurred through it,
When actually it is clear.  

Life is not a cup of Starbucks coffee,
Life is a glass of Coke;
It is cold,
Addictive at times,
Mostly, fizzy and sparkling.

Life is not-
Seeing the glass half full.
Just appreciating as is;
*Simply, beautiful.
I got the idea for this one while cycling. :)
Sep 2016 · 464
Yet Again
R Arora Sep 2016
Yet again, you are not tangible.
I can't hold your hand.
Just a face on the screen.
Yet again, I will have to wait,
To see you,
To feel your presence.
Nothing can calm me down,
Nobody can console me this time,
I try to hold back my tears,
As they force themselves out of my eyes
And down my cheeks;
A flood of emotions
That I try to conceal beneath my skin.
Yet again,
*With each drop that rolls
There goes my strength.
A piece I wrote a long time ago.
another one for my sister. After all, family is all we have got.
Sep 2016 · 747
Surviving an Apocalypse
R Arora Sep 2016
I was lying on a highway,
Next to crashed cars,
With blood trickling down my face.
I was with my best friend;
She was so adamant on buying that dress.
That blue dress we had seen a week ago,
Through the window of a closed store.
Now, she was in the car
With airbags against her body
She was alive, thankfully;
But with a broken arm.
As now the situation was contained
With no unusual movement around us,
We walked to the hospital nearby
And were given first aid.
Unclear about what had happened
Until the news channel spoke about the meteor.
The car crash was at the edge of the crater.
After dropping her to her place,
I got back home after 2 hours.
It was 5pm and exactly then,
The country was under attack;
It was a war.
The enemies were attacking from all sides,
And Oh God! From us they were not far!
As we hurried to leave the place,
From the window, I saw a man loading a grenade.
I was white as I shouted for my Mom,
In reply I heard, "It's nothing".
"But Mom, you have not seen what's happening here, we have to run!"
"Yes dear, we have to hurry, after all it is 5.30".
Now the man was aiming the grenade at us.
"5.30?! Mom we have to run, we all are going to die!"
"Not we, but only you!"
I was surprised,
"It's 5.30, for God's sake, wake up!
Or you'll again miss the first hour of the day!"
*And all this while,
I thought I was surviving an apocalypse.
I wrote this for poetry slam. This is probably one of my favourites that I wrote under 30 minutes. The topic was (quite clearly) 'Apocalypse'.
Aug 2016 · 469
Misfortune and Death
R Arora Aug 2016
There do exist,
Such people on earth,
Who have not seen happiness;
Who are untouched by success;
Who are longing for kindness.
Who have been poor for so long,
That they crave for death.
Hoping the other side would be better;
At least, they will not be aware of others,
Comparison would thus be inexistent;
And the lives happier,
If any should prevail.

Maybe death is peaceful.
Maybe it soothes us.
Perhaps obliviates the bad memories.
In every case,
It surely is an escape
From this monotonous life.
Can be considered an experiment,
An experiment of fate;
A trial for kins.
These people are untouched
By all the good in the world,
The springs don't exist in their lives,
Joy seen nowhere,
But death:
Death never discriminates.
It comes to us all.
It waits,
Only for the correct night to fall.
29 August, 2016
Aug 2016 · 344
R Arora Aug 2016
Your words pierce me,
Like a sword through my heart,
Hurting me with every breath,
Reminding me of hatred.
My hatred,
For you.
My blood boils when I see you
You have been rude
You instill doubt in me,
Robbing me off of my confidence
For this, I hate you!
I hate you from the core of my heart!
I cannot stand the sight of you,
You are an insecure, hollow person
Trying to let me down,
You envy my achievments,
Everybody- you try to fool
By playing cool;
You want to show
You are still better,
You are not.
With this attitude of yours ,
You will never be.
You cannot justify your grades,
Even if you are the funniest person on earth,
Your words **** me inside;
Echo in my my ear,
I seriously wonder,
Since when, to you did I begin to hear?
I hate you.
I did not earlier.
Now I always will.
The sky may fall
A temporary but strong feeling.
Jun 2016 · 836
To Come Back, I Have To Go
R Arora Jun 2016
We bid farewell to each other,
And tears from our eyes flow.
I make promises,
Which will turn out to be fake, we know.
I wish, just for once,
Time would fly slow.
My true feelings,
I cannot possibly show.
We'll meet again for sure.
What? You think, no?!
Are you going to try?
Oh, please don't!
To stop me?
For God's sake, no;
*Because to come back,
I have to go.
Loosely inspired by Passenger's 'Let her go'.
Apr 2016 · 945
R Arora Apr 2016
The world's a battlefield,
Or the battlefield has become the world,
Men brawling under the influence of an obscure boss,
Oblivious of the priceless loss.
Ego is that boss,
The consequences of which can be too gross.
Wars are bad,
The motive is sad,
But still they do happen,
Only to leave several worlds shaken.
None of the parties back down,
All with a frown.
So well armed,
No sight of any fear of harm.
Ego is not worth fighting for,
That is for sure.
Is it not useless, I would say, on the contrary,
To fight for something so temporary?
Lives are torn apart, amigo!
Just because of this little seeming word:
I was going through a few old manuscripts when I found this. I had written the original on July 8, 2015.
Mar 2016 · 20.0k
A Rose is a Rose
R Arora Mar 2016
A rose is a rose,
No matter where it grows.
Some saw thorns,
Beauty some chose.
Criticized by some,
Valued by loads;
People's opinions,
You can't change them by force.
Perfection is desired,
Even if it's freestyle prose!
Our lives might be cumbersome,
Let's accept the challenges they pose;
There's a bit of stardust in us all,
No matter hellish situations might come how close,
because, *a rose is a rose.
Inspired by Robert Frost's 'The Rose Family'.
Mar 2016 · 682
A Sheer Waste of Time
R Arora Mar 2016
Isn't all this,
That we do,
Just a sheer waste of time?
All this could finish right there,
The earth could end,
With a sign nowhere.
What is the purpose of this?
We all are born,
We all live, we all survive,
We all struggle,
And a few shine,
When this could end any moment,
Isn't all this a sheer waste of time?

Why do we work hard,
If unsung we all have to die;
Why is it so difficult
To say goodbye?
Does reincarnation really take place?
Or is this planet actually,
Just a figment of somebody's imaginative space?
So much of hard work,  
Is put into those inventions.
Life is pretty complex,
With all those tensions.
What if the the world had to end,
At this very time,
Before you could even read this line?

This is all so purposeless,
We are fighting with our inner selves.
We are completely oblivious
Of what's out there;
About the big picture,
We have no clue,
We don't even think about such stuff,
Since we are busy with our own blues.
Caring for somebody,
Or letting out a whine,
If no one is listening,
Isn't all this a sheer waste of time?

What if our prayers are not heard,
Rather, are merely coincidents?
What if the moments we wish for,
**Are already destined to happen the next?
Trying to see the big picture... I had planned to finish off the ****** of 'A Study in Pink', but this happened first.  
Here's something insane that I thought:
The obstacles in our lives are like prime numbers; we do not know when we would stumble upon one. ;)
Feb 2016 · 1.1k
A Study in Pink (Part 2)
R Arora Feb 2016
Too thrilled by the case,
Sherlock just disappears,
To begin with a chase,
John is let alone,
To get a cab, and go to Baker St. .
But wait- wherever he goes,
The telephone booth starts ringing!
He waits for somebody to pick up,
And continues to walk;
The third booth starts ringing,
The caller must be desperate to talk.
A black, shiny car,
Pulls over for John to ride,
The destination seemed far,
In this conversation-less hour.
"Anthea", answered the accompanying secretary,
When asked her name,
Fake it was,

The anxiety was over,
John was confronted by a well-dressed man,
Who offered him money, to spy,
The guy, who deduced Watson's army background,
By his tan.
The "arch-enemy" of Sherlock,
As he introduced himself,
Told John about his psychosomatic disorder,
"You are back in the game,
You don't fear danger,
You've missed this lifestyle."
True it was,
Pretty much,
"Could be dangerous", wrote Sherlock,
And there he was dashing into 221B.

Sherlock was quite disappointed,
When he got to know about the declination,
Of that tempting offer,
"Pity, we could've split the fee",
He suggested John for the next time.
Isn't Mr. Holmes quite irksome,
Calling John from the other end of London,
Just to send a text?
No, this was not an ordinary text,
An SMS was just sent,
By Mr. Watson's phone,
To the murderer.

The murderer?
But why?!
Elementary for SH.
Found the case within an hour,
Which was now in front him.
His mind, is truly above par!
One thing missing from the suitcase:
Her organizer, her phone.
"Nah, she's is a clever woman,
A serial adulterer,
Would never leave her phone at hotel",
This Holmes said, backed by balance of probability.

They waited at a restaurant,
And the wait was long,
But worth it.
Had to chase a taxi,
which was done successfully,
Thanks to Sherlock's excellent memory.
Hence proved it was,
The psychosomatic limb of Doctor.

A drugs bust had occurred at their place,
Seriously, this man, a deduction ******, would have drugs?
"I'm not a psychopath Anderson,
I'm a high functioning sociopath,
Do your research!"
Snapped Mr. Punchline.
Just a couple of minutes later,
This brilliant sleuth realized-
"Rachel! Yes, Rachel!
This woman in pink, Jennifer,
Is clever,
And she's dead!",
much to Mr. Holmes's displeasure.
This is getting longer and longer...
Jan 2016 · 1.9k
A Study in Pink (Part 1)
R Arora Jan 2016
Sherlock is indebted, forever;
To Mike,
For he made it possible for Holmes,
To meet the (only) friend of his life.
Oh look at John,
How baffled he was,
For he had just met a man,
About him, who knew all.
The army doctor thing, the Afghanistan war,
And that his sibling was alcoholic,
About this Sherlock was sure.

Without a word about himself,
Just the name and address,
Holmes went away,
Leaving John, with many questions,
And their answers for him to guess.

A queer flat mate, he was, a bit rude
Sherlock, you know;
Mrs. Hudson was nicer,
But not their housekeeper!
Apparently, SH would play violin to think,
Knew it was DI Lestrade at the door,
And there was another ******,
Including this one, counting to four,
Without a hint.

The crime scene was sealed,
Under supervision of Donovan,
And according to Sherlock,
There was something going on,
Between her,
And Anderson.

A woman was dead,
Wore everything in pink,
Holmes deduced her marriage state,
Just by her ring!
He slammed the door at Anderson,
For he (SH) found him irritating.
Rache is not for revenge”, Holmes said,
“She was writing Rachel, obviously”.
Left-handed she was,
And was carrying a suitcase,
But as Lestrade said,
There was never a case.

Mr. Holmes was so excited then,
He teased others to be stupid,
Watson helped him make a point,
In order to find the criminal,
But Holmes believed,
The pink case was the cupid.
SH means Sherlock Holmes; I used it because he signs off that way.
Ah, this one is going to be very long... You see, I have covered only one-third of the episode, and it has already become so long. So, I have decided to write it in parts. Nobody likes to read long poems, eh?
Writing this, I realized when you write a poem without a planned idea, it is much easier than what you write when you are given the idea. You have to steer it that way. And to rhyme- that becomes sort of a challenge...
Jan 2016 · 1.1k
A Letter to Sherlock
R Arora Jan 2016
Dear Sherlock,
Please get out of my mind.
You distract me,
Like sparkles in the wine.
When I want to sleep,
You shout in my head- "Boring!".
Even when I am doing my favourite subject,
After each question I correctly solve,
You whisper in your deepest voice-
"The game is on."
I keep myself away from the laptop screen,
But do you have any theory to avoid you in my brain?
If yes, ugh! Please do tell this teen.

Maybe I should develop this 'mind palace',
And assign a separate room to you.
And during my busy hours,
I swear, Sherlock,
On it, I'll put a heavy lock.
I need to do my work,
But on the desk in my head,
You always seem to lurk.
Now please go away from me,
Or I'll call John and then you see!
R Arora Jan 2016
There’s got to be a way out.
I’ve been struggling in this swamp for months.
Thought to keep striving was the key.
But it seems like the key has rusted,
Not working any more.
It has been too long to be patient.
Nobody helped,
For the fear of being dragged in the situation.
I still didn’t back out,
Tried to stand firmly,
And search for a rope.
A rope of time,
That was supposed to lengthen,
To help me,
To make things better.
Looks like it has only become shorter.
Passersby say-
“You can’t escape it”,
I feel disheartened,
I think about giving it a last try,
In case this time I am able to hop out.
Oh boy! That was a great moment!
They were all flabbergasted!
With all my strength,
And my courage pulled together,
I came out!
Stood on the ground,
Contrary to their remarks.
Then I realized,
There’s always a way out.
It sort of happened to me.
After all, we all write something that is directly, or passively linked to us. Believe it or not. Your life will always be reflected in the thoughts you pen down. :)
R Arora Jan 2016
~~~~~Spoilers Ahead~~~~~

Didn’t know SH was so amazing,
A second degree mind palace,
He was keeping.
What we watched in an hour,
And were perplexed by, for days,
Had taken place in his mind,
In mere 300 seconds!

Baffled with the news of return of Moriarty,
He decides to solve a similar case,
That had occurred 120 years ago.
He recreates his whole life,
With *Irene’s photograph
In his pocket watch.
Fits all the pieces in 1895,
Including John’s witty wife,

Then enters the ‘cleverer one’,
And fatter this time,
Having already made a theory,
He asks Sherlock to do the leg-work,
Because Mycroft himself is busy,
Trying to beat his little brother.
The game is afoot again,
All in Sherlock’s complex brain,
He exposes the truth,
Of Mrs. Ricoletti’s death,
Just as he was about to know about Moriarty’s,
He’s is woken by his friend.

But he goes back again,
To complete the story.
To solve the mystery,
He goes to the Falls,
To again finish the problem,
The final problem.
But this time John interrupts,
In 1895,
And kicks Moriarty off the cliff,
To let Mr. Holmes happily, alone,
Complete the fall.
Now he returns to the present,
With a smile conveying I-know-it-all,
And he does know all about the villain,
His death, his plans,
*And the rest.
I know it is a bit vague, but I just wrote it. And, it was quite difficult to write... More about the show, and the review will be here soon. Till then, stay Sherlocked!
Dec 2015 · 567
The World Today
R Arora Dec 2015
This world, that we live in,
Is not at all less.
It is full of lies
And a lot of mess.
The innocent being abducted,
The honest being convicted,
There’s no ray of hope,
In this world,
Of untruthful, slimy *****.

It is so not possible,
To climb back up,
Because the world,
Is constantly trying,
To pull you back down,
In this ditch,
So that alone they do not drown.
This is what
You have to watch out for.

Everybody is selfish;
Nobody is yours,
Except your family.
Who is always there;
Even in wars.

People are bad,
And will always be,
You have to survive,
With dear ones to your support,
You have to thrive.
Go on, who stops you?
But watch out for these traitors:
That will always be near you.
Looking for a potential prey,
Every single day.
They will treat you nicely at first,
On cloud nine,
They will make you fly,
But what comes later,
Is something impalpable.
Falling through a canopy,
Into a trench that is

Come on! You have to get up:
Be strong,
You have to catch up!
This not the end,
But the beginning,
Of your story.
A story,
That will one day be exemplary,
For all,
In this howsoever bad world.

Success will follow you,
If you follow struggle;
This struggle will become obsession;
Obsession, your passion.
And passion is unstoppable.

That very day,
When you know your goal very evidently,
And the journey is your pal,
Nobody can stop you,
From being on top of the world.
And this time,
Nobody’s going to push you
Because on top,
You will be
All alone.
R Arora Dec 2015
This blank sheet on my screen,
Just waits there patiently.
Stays invitingly,
Urging me to write something.
My heart is a wanderer,
It imagines a lot.

But when I sit back to write,
My mind is nothing but white.

I wonder what to type,
About the stars,
Or my life.
Maybe about the last book I read,
Or the question which was spinning my head!

In the mean time,
My heart has taken off,
To some place I want to be mine.
I think about the beautiful hills,
The lakes and houses,
In a small countryside,
Where I would like to reside.
Living a life,
In which I have plenty of ‘me’ time,
Where I can just gaze at the sky,
And dream to fly.
I want to run in the meadows,
Just lie down under a tree,
Doing nothing,
But admiring;
Nature and its wonders.
The sun not bright,
Just some soothing light,
With a small pond nearby,
In the grass, I lie.
Looking up I see the clouds,
Covering the sky,
Not so high.

I want to reach those clouds,
I want to hold them in my hands,
In the cool breeze,
(Of) Where I stand.

I want to be on the beaches,
See that golden sand,
Watching the sun go down,
With coconut in my hand!
Then, the stars would come out,
Shining at me,
As if all pointing me out.

I want to travel,
And travel a lot.
I shall write,
About that whole lot.
About those breathtaking scenes,
And beaches and greens.
The places I see,
The people I meet.

Living life is all about happiness,
And seeking the same,
Even in things that are bad.
Just never stop dreaming,
Expressing, and fulfilling,
Keep your eyes open,
Cling to perseverance,
Keep that fire of life
Don’t ever let your heart die.
The best part is still to come,
Watching the dreams you have had,
And seeing them come true!
R Arora Dec 2015
The name sounds alien,
But it seems to be ours,
Belonging to the earth.
There might not be a more enchanting thing,
Than these Northern Lights;
In green and pink,
Like curtains in the sky,
Ready to be raised,
Unveiling a beautiful surprise.

The spectators are less,
(About only a million,)
But the scene keeps on going,
The lights dancing,
To some silent,
Unheard beats.

It looks to have captured my eyes,
For they are glued to it.
And wouldn’t stop gazing,
Till the end of the life.

The green becomes lighter,
With a tinge of pink,
Then the pink dominates.
It looks like a confused kid’s painting,
Unable to decide, which colour to choose,
For the shades keep on changing.

The snow in dark,
Having only these to reflect,
Looks so pure,
So serene,
And frozen,
As it should be.
And still,
As it could be.
Wrote this on July 13, 2015
R Arora Dec 2015
For my wonderful sister.*

These moments of togetherness,
That we share,
Will soon be lost,
Like time in our hands.
It’s sure to occur,
And bound to be gone.
And so, they become, memories of past.
Leaving us with a longing of remembering it,
Again and again,
Till last.

Some feelings are complex,
Can’t be understood by all,
Like our relation.
However at each other,
We might vex,
In the deep, deep bottom of heart,
We both have an ocean of love,
In camouflage of pond.

I never thanked you right in your face,
Faked an attitude of solace.
But you don’t know,
How much I cried,
After a fight,
When you said-
Our relation has died.
You would not talk to me,
I remember;
Much significantly.

It was always me,
Who broke the silence.
At times, I cursed my fate,
For me being younger,
“Why should I be the one to kneel down?”,
This is something,
I’ve asked myself,

In the moments of solitude,
When (I felt) I had been ostracized by peers,
You stood there by me.

We both have grown together,
Had fun, and laughed at one another.
Now it’s time to part our ways,
As you have to go the other.

Believe me; I too have always been by your side,
When you were scolded,
I had cried.

These years we’ve spent together,
Have sadly now,
Come to an end.
But you are, of my life,
An integral part.
I thank you from the fathom of my heart.

Let me unveil the truth today,
You are my best friend,
And will forever stay.
Just as we’ve been.
Come whatever may,
We were together.
Little did I know,
That someday, this will come to an end;
But I’ve these moments treasured,
Because some moments are meant to last;
In memories,
To be cherished;
This I wrote for my elder sister when she was moving out for job purposes. That was the first time I realized that we sisters had to separate one day or the other. I knew we would talk every day, but it was never going to be the same again.
R Arora Dec 2015
When the world is all against you,
And there’s no place to hide,
When you feel you are all alone,
And nobody is there by your side,
Don’t let your heart sink,
Sit back;
And think:
Is it the circumstances,
Or you?
Who is at fault?
Who should be accused of this thing,
Which will soon be a (terrible) past?
Never mind the circumstances.
Those are just jerks of life,
Only to make you realize,
The price of happiness and smile.
For not all days are same,
Not always full of fame.
Anything monotonous can be boring,
So let us be prepared,
For some fun change,
Some adventure, and swing.
But, this small dip,
In your happiness graph,
Can be demoralizing.

Don’t you be disheartened,
Just as good times have passed,
This will also pass,
This will soon be a memory,
Though bad,
Of a long gone past.
Think yourself:
Will this matter in the years to come?
Will you even remember it,
The cause or the result?
In better times, probably not.

Things are not that terrible,
As much as we make them,
We rethink about the cause,
And not something to cope with it,
A solution maybe,
To put all this to a pause.
Even if you feel helpless,
You are actually not.
Don’t blame anyone,
Or anything,
Focus at present,
And think positively.
Stand up,
Gain some strength,
Remember your beautiful past,
And get back to work,
Work again,
Strive again,
Towards your goal,
Endurance might cause some pain,
But success will make you forget all this.
When success arrives,
It comes with bundles:
Bundles of joys,
Of happiness and contentment.
Look: then, good times will be back,
And bad memories,
Will just be a wasteful stack.
What matters the most,
Is now.
Spend it wisely,
You figure it: how.

— The End —