A plunderer of sorts.

Tricks your mind to enter inside

by appearing disguised as a innocuous doubt.

It slowly begins to steal your peace

bit by bit, untill you are without.

It robs you of your sleep

keeping you awake all night.

It also purloins your appitite

leaving you weak and very gaunt.

It then loots your courage and strength,

turning you into a fidgety nervous wreak.

Your own fear is what allowed it in

and helped it from within.

Calm your mind and dispel your fear

Let it not pander

to this greedy invader.

Anxiety will only plunder

when you surrender

through your fear.

You are the sheen, I see in the eyes.

You are the echo, I hear in a voice.

You are the spring, I notice in a gait

and the firmness, I feel in a handshake.

But tell me O’ Confidence

Where do you originate.

How can I let you accumulate.

You are a treasure to possess

but remain so difficult to access.

Your presence truly brightens my day,

as everything happens the right way.

Hard work doesn’t always fetch you.

Nor does Belief or Conviction retain you.

O’ light footed Confidence

Tell me, how can I hold on to you ?

You are capricious and ready to flee

Your sojourn is short and untimely.

What shall I do to acquire you indefinitely

and how can I insure,

you stay with me permanently.

A deed done wrong.

Words spoken foul.

A promise unfulfilled or even a

responsibility shrugged intentional

are like the dead not cremated well.

They turn into ghosts

and return to haunt.

Burdening the mind

and troubling your soul.

They become your guilt

and torment like a ghoul.

Owning up to your misdeeds

is the foremost penance indeed.

Endeavoring to redeem losses

that are precipitated through your action

will surely help silence this nemesis.

Follow your inner voice

and perform a purgatory of your choice

if you wish to exorcise these ghost

out of your conscience.

Honesty is a reflection of your morality.

A measure of your conscience’s purity

It can not be inherited or be taught

nor can it be wrenched or robbed.

It comes to you naturally

and goes on to define your personality.

Yet it is a heavy burden to carry.

Like an albatross it rides piggy

and begets you with troubles many.

The greedy don’t find it worth a penny.

The opportunist consider it unnecessary.

The manipulative perceive it as an enemy.

It can show you as foolish and stubborn very

or can fetch you plaudits plenty.

It is not a preference or a choice

but it is your sub conscience‘s voice.

You either listen to it or muzzle it conveniently.

When your efforts seem to tarry

in fetching fruits you wanted in a hurry

and your contemporary gets them early,

the bitterness you feel inside is jealousy.

An indignation you suffer silently

when your confidence gets bruised badly.

Frustration that you endure helplessly

when your belief of superiority

is shattered unexpectedly.

It is your Ego actually that appears masked as jealousy

and prevents you from accepting the reality.

Ego makes you blame your own Destiny

and belittle what others have achieved already.

Learning to appreciate others with generosity

and acknowledging their virtues with modesty

will expunge this negativity, we call jealousy.

I knew my destination

and it incited me to drive.

I took upon myself

to steer onto the route,

on which my life would thrive.

I began dodging obstacles confidently

to move ahead in a hurry.

The path turned rough and craggy

and driving on it soon became tough.

It narrowed without a warning

eventually leading to a cul de sac.

My patience fell prey to the delay

and my confidence started to wane away.

I began to frustrate and tire,

on seeing my plans go haywire.

Worrying over the future,

I accumulated only stress and fear.

I prayed to the Almighty

and then moved to the rear.

I let Him become my chauffeur

and pull me out of this mire.

I have since entrusted Him,

to lead me onto my destination

by whichever way, He desires.

I now sit and enjoy the ride,

as a back seat passenger.

O’ Wanderer Wind,

Tell me, where have you been.

Like a nomad you love travelling

and are blessed to always be blowing.

You tease the Sun for following a routine

while you rise and swirl at your will.

You ogle at the majestic mountains while squeezing through the valley and whistle your presence as you rush past in a hurry.

You playfully engage with the blooming flowers and borrow their fragrance cleverly, to charm others on your onward journey.

You even caress the green grass as you sail past, flooring it with your flirtatious touch.

Blowing over the Sea you leave behind ripples many, suggesting your romantic alliance with the blue sea.

You kiss the falling raindrops, swaying them off their feet while turning them into mist magically.

I wish I could be as carefree as you,

blowing where ever I wish to be.

O philanderer Wind,

Tell me, where have you been ?

Tiny droplets of water

falling from the skies above.

You can’t hold them with streched hands

nor collect them in your closed palms.

You either soak in them or

see them disappear into the ground.

Their touch will induce a chill and

makes you cringe as you get

drenched by the waterfall.

The tiny raindrops coalescence and

impart onto you a positive charge.

They wash away your inhibitions, making you bold and carefree of staring eyeballs.

The falling raindrops let you experience the joys of nonchalance

in an otherwise over conscience existence of yours.

These little droplets of rain incite you to live

by listening to your heart rather than for pleasing the eyes of all.

A thought that comes so sudden

Like a stranger unpleasant

Who knocks at your door

and barges in before you say, No

Why was it let in without resistance.

Why were you stupefied by its appearance

What made you so afraid that you watched helplessly while it settled in.

Maybe the intruder was not a stranger but someone you had seen earlier.

Someone you were afraid to encounter

and wished would never come so near.

Helped by your fear, this intruder dictates your behaviour and enslaves you further to become your master.

This intruder is Suspicion and none other.

An undesirable thought when allowed to register will feed on your fear and soon become a doubt that is difficult to clear.

Save yourself from being ruined by this intruder, whom Suspicion we call here.

The ringing bell announced his arrival.

A man of meagre means and modest wares, dressed in a crumpled shirt and worn out pants.

He held a bamboo frame adorned with cotton candies and a bell in his other hand.

On seeing him, children ran in ecstasy, to welcome him with a rhapsody of joy.

When he gave candies to even those who had no money to buy, I asked him, “Why..?”

He laughed aloud and looked into my eye,

This was his reply, “Though I sell candies,

It is happiness they come to buy.

I am paid not just in money

but with many smiles too.

I maybe poor but I am also blessed by the Almighty .

He enables me to give happiness to others in plenty.”

I walked away with the Candy seller’s words ringing in my ears.

An orphan was roaming the street

in search of something to eat.

He stopped by a huge banquet hall

and looked gingerly inside it’s glass wall.

Spread inside was a sumptuous buffet,

never seen by his little eyes any day.

Scrumptious food such invintingly lay,

he feared even blinking his hungry eyes

would make it disappear away.

Like a mirage it was within his sight

but teasingly out of his touch.

It was so near yet so far.

How were those inside different than him,

he could never convince himself within.

His innocent eyes seemed to question God,

” Who build this glass wall and why am I not amongst them all ?.’

It wasn’t odd or peculiar

but similar to any other lying around.

Yet it was placed in the center

and readily worshipped with vigour.

A stone painted in colours bright

had inexplicably become God overnight.

What was in it that wasn’t anywhere at all.

How was it different from the stones that were laid as steps or

went to build the compound wall.

Can a stone ever be seen as God ?

If yes, then why don’t we see Him,

elsewhere and everywhere around !

When our faith can sight Him even

in a stone then what prevents us from

seeing Him in the heart of every man.

A maverick personality with

a bohemian style of dressing.

A flowing beard and a hat worn obliquely.

He was a painter par excellence,

exhibiting his piece de resistance.

His painting was to any eye a treat

but a part of it was left incomplete.

Left inadvertently or maybe intentionally.

My curiosity got the better of me

and prompted me to inquire brusquely.

The artist answered rather politely,

“I leave it incomplete to stay away from conceit.

To avoid being coloured with it vainly.

And prevent my ego from craving more than what my skill can achieve.

The incomplete painting now made sense to me as I continued to  marvel at his masterpiece.

Lying in a ICU and in coma was

a loving wife and a doting mother.

Only one to attend to her now was her husband, a retired Air Force officer.

An ideal couple, they had spent their life’s savings to procure their two sons a good future.

Their sons had graduated with elan, making them proud

but had chosen to marry and settle abroad.

The visiting sons couldn’t spend time with her as they had to fly back for sure.

Even during their visits they were obliged to arrange for their family trips of leisure.

Unfortunately her aged husband was struck by cancer and passed away earlier.

The sons performed his cremation but expressed their helplessness in looking after her.

They flew back abroad leaving her in coma as she was now nothing more than a sleeping God.

With groggy eyes

I glanced outside my window.

It was early morning

and the street was deserted below.

Sleep had somehow evaded me

the night before.

The desire to mould my future

forces my mind to work overtime.

I have forgotten how to relax

and switch off at night.

Unknown fears drown my mind

all the time.

Below, I saw a vagabond,

unaware of where he was lying.

He slept more peacefully than me.

His needs were probably less than mine.

He was like a rolling stone

who gathered no stress.

Whereas my expectations offered resistance.

Preventing me from going with the flow, in acceptance.

Though our needs are few,

our expectations can become too many.

As I looked away, I wondered whether

I should pity him or me.