Back in those days
when I was young and strong.
Pristine, Noble,
as pure as you'd long.
White as a dove,
handsome as a king.
I'm a token of love,
far greater than a ring.
My making contained
both good and bad.
My maker being
a hot headed lad.
Blood as blue
as the skies and seas,
I stood along the riverside
enjoying the occasional breeze.
My history is both
wonderful and morbid.
My beauty-spoken of,
I'm known by each kid.
Lovers cherish me,
write songs of my presence.
create tales of their own,
activate every sense.

And now when I speak,
when I look at my current state
I'm sad, deeply sorry
at my distressing fate.
Handcrafted marble
whiter than milk.
Quality as such,
smoother than silk.
Today has eroded,
decayed and died.
It matters not
how much I've cried.
For it all falls on deaf ears
while factory noises expose my fears.
My white is no more,
I'm a deepening gray.
I see pity in the eyes
where once admiration lay.
The pride of India,
its biggest glory.
The life of Agra,
this is my story.
Being the crown of the nation,
the jewel of its eye.
A wonder of the world,
I feel like a lie.
For what I am today
isn't me at all.
I've lived at great heights
survived a great fall.

It is my request
sincere and deep.
Give me no reason
to further weep.
Awaken. Arise.
the time is here.
Preserve your glory,
keep the pride near.
I am none other,
than your beloved Taj Mahal.
this is my story,
one I ought to tell.
Now my life
is in your hands.
the choice is yours
as are the lands.
Choose wisely,
The devils or me?
Perish with them
or rejoice with me?

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.

Surrounded by many,
stuck in a crowd.
Midst numerous persons,
midst noises so loud.
I’m often in groups, in herds, in throngs,
meeting new people- Punjabis or Bongs.
Laughs and greets
as though in trance.
dancing on beats
as though having a chance.
I seem to be calm, normal and happy.
I’m far for thus, I feel so ******.
Truth be told, I’m the classic case
of being alone midst many a face.
But when the darkness surrounds and
helplessness sets in,
I remind myself
of what it takes to win.
We come into this world
single, alone.
Exit the same way,
ensuring it shone.
Keep up thy spirit- it’s what counts the most.
Ensure your life deserves a celebrated toast.

There he is.
Lying on the ground.
Alone in the cold, waiting to be found.
He's oblivious to the cries, the terror, the hate,
oblivious to his slowing heart rate.
The hard earth beneath is slipping away.
Death is doing its all to make him pay.
For how dare he not cry out in fear?
How dare he smile when death is near?
Yet his resolve is solid, intact and pure.
His sacrifice is his pride, his nectar, his cure.
The bullets that tore his body apart,
left untouched his mind, his heart.
Flooded with tales of his homeland's wins,
He's overcome with emotion as he thinks of long gone sins.
His lips curl into a contended smile,
his thoughts are away by many a mile.
In the jaws of death, his mind on his nation,
His soul is adrift in obvious celebration.
For what way to die is better than this?
Giving life for your country is such a bliss.

Heartfelt joy.
Distressing sorrow.
A helping hand lent.
A smile that you borrow.
A high pitched whistle.
A low pitched growl.
An eager face.
A menacing scowl.
A shout of pain.
A whoop of glee.
The vastness of the sky.
The depths of the sea.
These components
with many more,
form my poetry-
an emotional downpour.

When a friend forgets,
the world crashes around you.
When a friend forgets,
you feel despair brew.
When a friend forgets,
joy into sorrow turns.
When a friend forgets,
your insides agonize and burn.
When a friend forgets,
Life seems unfair.
When a friend forgets,
you no longer can bear.

For it was that very friend,
whose shoulder was yours, to cry on.
That very friend
who made dusk seem like dawn.
That very friend who held your hand.
The very friend who helped you float to land.
From the very depths of distress
the one who helped overcome all stress.

Today that support, my sole strength is amiss.
What can I do to try and erase this?
All I can do is hope and pray
while trying my best to keep the tears at bay.

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?

She was an Enigma.
A source of awe.
Some called her the calm before a storm
While
Others felt she was the destruction after.
Few noticed
(and rightly so)
That she was neither.
She was the storm itself.
Yet, not one of destruction.
For, no part of hers was ever generic.
She was a silent storm
Of calm, of hope, of love.
She was the whirlwind
That brought you out of
The abyss of negativity.
She was that gust of wind
That pushed you to be the best version of yourself.
She was the storm that you'd embrace
To realise;
She was the serendipity-
The happy accident-
That you never saw coming.

It's the same dark evening
I've grown accustomed to.
The terror of approaching footsteps
(for me) is nothing new.
A drunken holler at the door
sends a chill down my spine.
I know it is time again
to face the wrath of cheap wine.
With trembling hands and a racing heart
I fumble at the door.
My body tries its best to resist
the abuse it has endured before.
Yet, against my wishes
the door is now ajar.
The man who comes barging in
is terrifying even from afar.
With no barrier between us
and pure rage in his eyes,
he does what I expect
and erupts into wild cries.
"YOU *****", he screams
(the man that I'd wed)
whilst charging at me,
(his humanity-all shed).
Blow after blow
he plants on my frame.
Slaps, kicks and punches
have become his favorite game.
Each humiliating strike
that I wordlessly embrace
attacks my dignity
until is left no trace.
After his outburst
(an everyday tale, of late)
he staggers off to bed
(his newfound best mate)

Now I'm alone,
beaten and bruised.
The pain of mental hurt
overpowers the blood oozed.
Is this it then?
The reward for being nice?
My kindness taken for cowardice
non-violence paying its price?
Is it my FAULT then,
to be born a girl?
Is it reason enough
for all atrocities he hurls?
I lift myself up
to take a deeper look at me.
Features lost in bloodshot red,
there is nothing left to see.
I drag myself to bed now,
It already is very late.
I wait for sleep to carry me off
to a land of better fate.

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.

Today I walk,
hesitating and scared.
All the way I wonder
will I be spared?
At home stay them,
those loved ones
who debate within
imagine me chased by guns.
Today is the day
all my folk are silenced,
taken for granted,
eternally fenced.

It is me,
the voice
of the women who surrender,
those very women, victims of the thunder.
those very women
whose bodies have been scarred,
those very women
whose lives have been marred.

By what means,
By what reason
Am I exploited,
maimed by treason?
Who gives menfolk
The power to ****?
To ******, to remove
the dignity I drape?
I have every strength,
I have all you do.
In fact much more
and rationality too.

All I declare,
all that I make clear
Enough is Enough,
Do you hear?
I've given you more
than you've ever deserved.
Gone are the days
I acted reserved.

This shall not be repeated
so get it right.
Touch me and beware
of the wrath of my might.

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.

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.

Adulthood is a complicated stage.
It’s the start of a journey, the end of a phase.
Often we don’t feel like an adult,
often we wish to be part of a cult.
Yet you must know, in you we believe.
We’re always by your side, never shall we leave.
For the sake of this bond, this trust, this friendship,
for the sake of each milestone, in the course of our trip.
You’re our favorite, the one we cherish.
So this is for you, this awesome wish!
Looking back at each joyous joke,
laughing at each friendly poke,
remembering the memories made,
knowing they shall never fade.
For our bonds are not so weak,
our friendship isn't that bleak.
We love you for who you are,
the truest best friend, by measures far!

Dear mommy,

I've been waiting all day
For you to be back,
The sky too has turned from blue to gray.
I think it is sad,
The way that I am,
That you are so, so far away.

While I'm talking to the sky,
There's a knock at the door
And I jump out in glee, letting out a cry.
The doorknob turns and you come in,
You seem to be lost, I wonder why?

Daddy tells me you're busy with work,
He assures me that I'm not at fault.
I try to believe him,
Keep that mind,
While watching you down another bottle of malt.

It hurts me that I can't take away your pain,
It haunts me how you're drowning in sorrow.
I wish I could help you get inside my head,
So you could see that we will have a better tomorrow.

Don't believe the world,
Mommy.
The world is full of lies.
Daddy isn't dead,
He's right here, absorbing your cries.

He loves you,
He cares.
He told me, see?
Now wipe away those tears,
And show your big smile to me.

Man is prone to fears,
they say.
Some fear the dark,
Others dread an obstacled way.
To each is his own,
A battle to fight,
Looking, seeking
For a way to capture the light.
I too have
My set of frights, demeaning.
That can be analysed not
Despite all screening.
For my monster is neither virtual
Nor real.
Yet my flights it restricts
And my dreams, seal.
My dreaded demon
Is the mirror on the wall,
That overlooks my glory
And highlights each fall.
The mirror that looks me in the eye,
Unnerved,
While telling me each pitfall
Was deservingly served.
It is a devil that exists
Both inside and out.
The torture unleashed via
A muffled shout.
I can turn to none,
Nor plead within.
For it is the punishment
Of an unatoned sin.

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.

Beyond each painting
Is great meaning yonder,
That may or may not
Help your heart grow fonder.
The scroll that holds mere words
Inscribed,
Holds potential to unleash emotion, undescribed.
The pen that is one's greatest ally
Is indeed thus
For it hides all folly.
The smile that is plastered forever on
Hides the dark within, each shade forlorn.
The masks that show up each day,
All day long,
May not truly portray where your heart does belong.
Seek, approach and break free of this.
The masks you put on
Have hindered your bliss.

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.

With each step I take
in an attempt to move forth,
I find myself the recipient of
a new objection to my worth.
With each hostile accusation
that I take in my stride
are scores more of insults
hurled at my pride.
I promise of my innocence,
I plead to be heard.
But who would vouch for my say,
who'd consider my measly word?
Every breath I take is
considered to be tainted.
They tell me I deserve it,
it's a world that I have painted.
With this burden on my head
that I can take no more,
I finally pull the trigger
to unfurl the hurt in my core.
With the last of my breaths,
painful, slow,
I ensure that the note
in my pocket does show.
The unwanted repitition of
the words of my soul
is perhaps the last thing
to make my worthless life a whole.
An apology, a cry
to my lovely wife of late,
"I'm sorry, my dear,
that I lost our battle with fate."

As I look at the blank page, I see so much to write.
Scribbling across, I begin to rant, the page pure- is no longer white.
I feel a force, raw power within.
Not of violence, neither of sin.
Of an emotion far greater than this,
of an expression that is pure bliss.
This flow of words, the taste of rhyme
is exhilarating such, worth many a dime.
I have the power, vested in me,
to think so deep, so much, so free.
Abusing this power, think- I do,
abusing this power, away goes my blue.
Looking at the rant, it has no meaning
either that, or one’s grey cells have been leaning.
For each word writ, articulated-expressed
there is great inner meaning, that cannot be stressed.
It is upon one to detect, to see
It is upon each one, to genuinely be.

Despite all attempts
The dreaded day has arrived.
The moment I've wished
To forever avoid.
When your laugh can no more
Be initiated by me.
When the pain in your eyes
You don't wish me to see.
You've found better lands.
You've seen better days.
You've moved to new places.
I'm stuck with my old ways.
You've grown, say some
While others frown at you.
While I defend my best mate,
From those haters who are new.
New to my world and to our friendship
New to my life,
Telling me to get a grip.
Forget the spectators,
Ignore them all.
Fly out, soar high
I'm right here, to break your fall.

Midst the steady heartbeats
a new beat I feel.
I embrace my new born angel
all my aches do heal.
I’m sure the love I feel
is felt by all.
Little do I realize
I’m in for an awakening call.
Far from love, away from care,
all my girl gets is an angry glare.
She’s looked down upon
by those who sought a boy,
Oh! What shall happen to my little bundle of joy?
Will she also suffer, the way that I do?
Will she be traumatized?
I seek for a clue.
Will she ever know how to read?
Will she grow up as another victim of the creed?
Will she be wed at an age too young?
Suppress her wishes? Keep her will unsung?
Will she burnt at her husband’s pyre?
Whether or not, it be her desire?
NO, I decide, it shall happen not.
History shan’t repeat itself,
it isn’t what the leaders sought.
My daughter shall grow, she shall succeed.
She’ll prove to the world, and all of the creed.
A girl can attain as much as a boy,
in fact much more, to a mother’s joy.