When she called me before the streak of dawn entered the crevices of our window
While he still roamed fearlessly with his friends circling around , chuckling
I desired to be an unmindful young boy who could delight under moonlit night
When she asked me to wear a colourful scarf that choked my natural breath
While he could gloriously flaunt with open arms or unsuitable body positions or devilish laugh
I envied of being a feisty , free soul that he is
As I suppressed my 'inappropriate' behavioural potential when she pointed fingers and put red flags
When he could be just whiling away precious resources while I would be precisely guided about management
As I bloom, I blossom more and more
Fret is unfair as it spreads out its arms as dismal failure...

Luckily, I happen to be rib-tickling someone
Reviving your rare smile as I fluster
Badly, I still happen to be specific someone
That you ponder over in closed quarters
Never paying dues for my undivided commitment
Astonishingly, I find delightful and pleasurable relief
That I am still your Someone
Someone you attribute as Specific...

Let the marginal tillers, handicrafters usher in prosperity
For life of labour and self-esteem sufficiency is worth living
Let the least and the lowest be granted affirmative action
For the good of an individual is in the good of all sections
Let us together structure mindsets, free of social evils
Showing extreme resilience against wrongdoings
Let us empower the exploited, weakest and oppressed
Let us eliminate hunger, brutalities and violence
Let the poorest ride on with humblest integrity
Let us all discard egocentrism and be sensitive
Let us savour the essence of hard produced fruits of labour
Let us groom faith and trusteeship in their abilities
Let us close the lid of past sufferings and hardships
Everyone will shine through integrated development
Sarvodaya shall welcome Universal Upliftment...

In the dark and deep interiors
Where harsh reality prevails
Where no state's aid knocks
A gruesome tale it entails
Where woman is a mother,
Sister, or a guileless daughter
Behind veils of ignorance
Where poor is beaten excruciatingly
For solely out of wantonness
A young girl writhing with pain
Fear, dysphoria of social shame
Where age-old myths are sacred
In their glum and gloated atmosphere
Where harsh reality prevails
Out of sophisticated, sedentary lifestyles
In the dark and deep interiors
Where backwardness is upheld...

The cloak turned over
The cloak that clouds it all
A shield against the authenticity
Last night turned over deliberately
The words with indifference
The face with unmindfulness
Shook them at the core
Yet their own hidden delusion
Struck them the most
Cruel they found inauthenticity
Critical I discovered the irony

Our story harbored a beauty
Like a lover's tale
Painting poetry and forest romance
Is to what it translates
Our story revived its charm
Elements of intrigue and calm
You don't just admire the long way
I also treasure our stumbling blocks
Our story was that babble of laughter
A land of expressive gestures
A land of overwhelming indulgence
Submerged in the rosy sunshine
Shoulders of unwavering faith
A lover's tale is to what it translates...

I see the exhilarating sunshine, refreshing rain
One among the little -known legacies of you
I see the pleasure gushing without thankfulness
I see laughter riots without happiness
I see different weather in your dreary desert
I see innocence in your indifference
I see you in the swamps of sticky roots
No legitimate force can pull you out
Except the wilfulness of your heart