Its just a fantasy the only regret is permanence,
The life of a modern day gypsy, an unknown destination.
I wake up to new faces from past day's bruises,
A long journey into some town, exploring the unknown.
Green sanctum reflecting the temple top,
Woken up by the gong of the ancient metals.
Treated like a royal guest, offered a lot of the harvest,
Walking down the symmetric coconut grooves.
I see vessels carrying newest of the goods,
But here they still stick to their roots.
True its a gods own country, abundant beauty,
I'm lost amidst the hills sipping the Malabar coffee.

I'm a lonely sailor, down four pitchers,
I'm high and low, how often I don't know.
I'm to take commands, I'm not on my own,
Days with bacchanals, nights with dark.
A deserted sailor, with a salient dream.
Whom I'm to speak with? The sea?
I've lost my tongue, I've lost me.

A pure path leading to the moon,
I hear the echolocation of whales,
It's the only company I can think of.
Threats passing within miles, with sharp red lines,
A twisted fate, I dream dancing on my grave.
I get old, I'm ranked high, my pockets are full.
My heart is dry, and smiles are wry.
Whom I'm to speak with? The sea?
I've lost my tongue, I've lost me.

Lie beneath the galaxy in a cathedral silence,
Stay up till the moon dives behind the beige mountains.
Rest on your beast, let the valves take a break,
Treat yourself with a feast, its the only time in your fate.
Slithering into my sack I rest under the canvas,
How peaceful it is far away from all the ruckus.

The monk's prayers bid me with good luck,
I'm off riding in the sparse cold desert.
I stop with the view of a disputed lake,
Miles long the jade blue reflects the golden tops.
In refuge at a monastery, fuel is a luxury,
I'd give up everything for a piece of this little heaven.

Was waiting to be solitaire,
Would cease every possible chance.
Like my mind wished, I'd be
But heart still yearning for company.
Of that of a beast,or a beauty.
Who'd take me farthest on this land,
On the sacred shoulders of my country.

The hills,winds and barren land,
They all giving me one big hand.
Thumping across the roads,
I could hear the Banjo chords.
The beast I'd ride on,
Or the beauty who'd ride on me,
Was still a nostalgic dream.

Sink me in,deep in you
Be the beauty or the beast.

Its said we learn out of experience,
Its contradictory when I look at men in whites.
How many more lives should be lost?
In an endless state of confusion and grief.
The land of Confucius is most corrupt,
And the neighbour a tad better.
No teachings are ever enough,
For those determined to destruct.

The relentless sea attempting to come closer,
The sands tediously taking it all deeper,
The gusty Arabian winds downed by the ghats,
Resulting in an endless rain and light spat.
I ride with sea to my left, hills to my right,
Constant hide and seek plays the sun,
I see him by day fall, outlining the waters.

Its a spectacle to watch Oliver Ridleys ashore,
A struggle to live, hope we see them more,
So much to see, sure you'll be in wonder,
What's to sit at home, go out and wander,
The rhythmic sound of the century old beast,
Chase yourself away, this you can do at least,
Remember to get lost before you can be found.

You're my Greek goddess, all I do is worship you,
With characters like yours are only a few.
Not a moment passes without thinking of you,
To the heart you're a misty morning dew.
You listen to me tirelessly, console like no one does,
You show me the path that I failed to see in me.
Our roots are deep like that of the banyan tree,
We hold strong unsaid, we know we'll be free.

True its a mystery how far we go back in history,
Blending of our mind and soul, now that's a story.
I'm glad we've come so far to cherish,
There is no way, no way I'll let this perish.
I've memorized the mantra to your heart,
No possible storm can make our ways part.
They're jealous of us, glad you know that,
After all who better at this, than us.

Rhythmic sounds of the raindrops,
Orchestrated with the occasional thunder.
Pleasant as an age old glass harmonica,
With the tunes like the sounds of the heaven.
A medicine to an ailing soul.

The cuckoo's call is muted by the winds,
Only we hear is the earth guzzling the downpour.
A few peek from the light, a few rescind it.
Splashing through the puddles,
Reminiscing the lost past.
Trying to relate how we were, better off as kids.

The age is far gone where it was a play, now a burden.
We've lost, lost to the time.
Let gone of happiness they give.
Tiny thoughts and simple dreams.

We leave the melancholy behind,
Brave into the new lands.
I'm a stranger in my own land
I race with the wild winds of the monks.
My beast thumps, gasps and leaps.
Roaring mechanics of the modern world they say.

A thousand eyes staring upon us,
Monks become our mothers, and mules our guides.
The brave hearted fear, as the terror is sheer.
The thin air threatens us,
The sight of a canvas brings warmth to heart, beast finally rests.

I'm far away from home, we're a thousand miles apart.
To be lost is a joy of different kind, to be forgotten is just a thought in mind.
The glimpse of the golden crested peak is a blessing in disguise,
Then my heart stops to confess I'm homesick.

There is symphony in this tyranny,
You play me like the ghost notes,
Unheard yet ponderous, it signifies,
If not so try letting me go.
Into the unknown we travel untold,
Bright nostalgic colours blind us,
An orchestra of emotions flow
And into the infinite we want to go.
Dreams do differ, beings do alter,
Only to chase the hope in life,
The quintessential amour,
Nowhere can it be found than in us.


The unbiased tranquillity through hope,
Raises impudence.
Not a speck of qualm can I raise for this perseverance.
We're bound by no ambit,
But only that of the tender attachment,
Lets try and keep what we've raised,
Hope it doesn't erase.
Banish those dark deductions,
Help yourself with bright inclinations,
Life's all it, to crawl through the clouds
To see a bright tomorrow.

What wrong did the children do?
Maybe it was that they had books in hand instead of guns.
The birds flew away from the dry branches,
Gunshots echoed the corridors of the school.
Junior or senior what difference does it make?
Life is a life whether that of a child or an adult.
Those who survived will live on with pain
But what good is this to anyone?
Is this enough to end jihad?
Musharraf or Sharif, Bhutto or Zardari none have done good.
All they did was to secure a bungalow in London.
No mercy is enough for this atrocity against humanity.

I wander with thin hopes,to be with you one day
I'm so clueless,ways make me faint
With no signs to read,but only think and evade.
I see hope fading with the fall of every dawn.
I'm left amidst a million thoughts, I struggle to stay afloat.
The things that you say make me sway.

But there is your smile,with hazel like eyes.
And your black gentle loopy hair.
You pull me back, I hesitate to resist.
And once again I'm a clueless wanderer lost without hope.
Swaying between a yes and no.
Enough of it,let me leave in peace,let me live with ease.

A line across my forehead, reading my past,
Not so much to boast, but will tell a lot.
A bittersweet lot, so much I've lost,
I am no preacher, just a few words I blabber,
Of friends and foes, and fiends and folks.
I'm like a Monday morning, not greeted well,
All I want to tell is  you keep your well.
The closer we are the deeper it hurts,
What you know of pain? When I go ahead.
Its for you I take it, for a better tomorrow I gulp it,
It hurts when I tell, you're better off without me.
A moment's thought can save me,
You can push me off the cliff, or pull me back.
Like I had thought, its good to be game for it all,
I'm game for life, for days with less light.
Emptier than the void, quieter than the deep sea.