I close my eyes in wait.

I’m waiting.
Waiting

Waiting for the hurt to give way to understanding
Waiting for dismay to give way to hope
Waiting for light to penetrate the dark
Waiting for gloom to pave way for glee

I’m still waiting.

I’m trying.
Trying not to feel. Not to think.
Trying to numb the pain that numbs my senses.
Trying to keep going. Believing. Loving.
Trying to overcome the contradictions that challenge everything I put my trust in.

Yes, I’m trying.

And then you come along.
Stare me in the eye, assuring.
You calm me, soothe, promise of a better land.
I believe you.

I feel no need to try anymore.
There’s no more waiting.

Who said death isn’t beautiful?

I am a man.
I am a man who does not love.
Who cannot love.
For, I am a man.

I am a man.
Hence, I am not allowed to love,
To show emotion,
To feel.
For then, I’d be a *****.

I am a man.
I must be masculine.
I must be a stunner.
I must be callous.
For if not, I’d be a loser.

I am a man.
I cannot be skinny.
I cannot be fat.
I cannot care about my appearance, but I must look good.
For if not, I’d be a loner.

I am a man.
I cannot respect my wife.
For then I’d be under her thumb.
I am a man who cannot love another.
For then I’d be a criminal.

Is it that wrong
to simply love
without boundaries, without expectations?

Are we that heartless
that gender can force us to behave in a certain manner?

Are we that naive, that
we really believe phrases like
‘all men are heartless’ and
‘men are animals’?

No.
Sexism isn’t about women being oppressed by men.
Just like feminism isn’t about women being greater than men.
Discrimination, gender policing, societal pressure
are good for neither ***.
But then why do we put up with it?
It’s time for a change.
Be that change.

Sincerely,
The man who dares to love.

Hidden beyond the clouds, beyond each lining,
looking down at the world,he heard them whining.
Whining in sorrow, in loneliness and in pain.
Praying devotedly, for joys to regain.
Unable to bear the tears of his little ones,
he bestowed upon them the warmth of a thousand suns.
He gifted them with a gift, so unique,
that never would they need to face another moment bleak.
He rewarded them with a friend, the best there was,
one that'd love them and love all their flaws.
The tears gone, happiness spread around,
the land turned into meadows, no more were barren grounds.

24 hours (as a child labourer)

An everyday morning:
He gets up when it is still dark.
It is his job to collect the coal,
his means of survival- the coal’s black mark.

A regular afternoon:
She’s out facing the sun’s wrath,
helping build homes she’ll never live in.
Trying to clear her obstacled path.

A casual evening:
He stops at the tea stall.
Not to buy himself a pack of wafers
but to serve those who can, forever at their call.

An uneventful night:
She sweeps the store clean.
She’ll be gone by morning.
Like the dust, she too must never be seen.

This is how they spend each day.
This is their life for a meager pay.
At an age to think of books and toys,
they’re drowned in work, away from joys.
Deprived of all we take for granted-
a basic education, carefree times enchanted.
This is the life these children lead.
Is it fair of us to blame the creed?
It is time for us to think, to wonder.
It is time for us all to solemnly ponder.

I exit the cocoon of safety and warmth
to enter a world of scrutinizing eyes.
I dispose my shield of hopes and trust
to embrace the reality of cheats and lies.
Armed with determination, with grit and bravado
I confront those who question my pace.
Armed with talent, with sincerity and fight
I overcome each hurdle that the doubtful place.
I dream, I plan, I envision too.
I work, I try, I make it happen for you.
I write, I read, I debate and campaign.
I ensure that the world needn’t live in pain.
I’m knowledgeable, hardworking,
enthusiastic and simple.
I worry more about our nation
than about a petty pimple.
Yes, that’s who I am.
The student of today.
The one who cares, who works, who proves
that we’re here to stay.

A world so dark. A life so bleak.
A world so shallow. A life so meek.
A world of hunger. A life of despair.
A world of no hope, one that seeks repair.
Where are the falls, the summers, and the springs?
Where is the happiness that nature’s bounty brings?
Where is the joy of the first monsoon shower?
Where is the overwhelming natural power?
This is what I look for today.
In the cool wind’s touch and the sun’s first ray.
I am Mother Earth, vulnerable and true.
I reside in the winds, in the waters deep blue.
In a feeling so nostalgic,
in a prayer sincere.
I beg, I plead- eradicate my fear.
Honor the Earth that you live in.
Honor your resources, commit no sin.

I envy thou, artist.
You glide across the page
creating the very image
I have wanted to make.
You show people the world,
the place you wish to see,
the man you wish to be.
You portray well, your all.
A smear of colour,
a blot of paint
is enough to turn the demon to saint.
All with a mere stroke.
Hence, I am in awe
of the power you hold,
of the artwork so bold.
Yes, I am in awe.
And this is why dear artist.
This is how
I envy thou.
Envy thy gift. Envy thy talent.