So aged he is, but still so zealous for his job.
It feels like he has only known his rickshaw.
The ancient bard in him tells Punjabi poems.
He belies his wrinkles as he pedals his ride.
Just putting to shame his fellow rickshaw pullers.
None remembers or even cares to know his name.
He just pedals and remembers his deceased wife.

He told me a Punjabi tale of partition...

"We were really happy when it happened,
I was 16 and married to my beautiful wife,
But then he pressed for a separate Pakistan,
Just so much wicked was this demand of his,
Punjab was alight due to some people's doing,
We were to cross river Ravi en route to Amritsar,
In Lahore my childhood home was burnt to ashes,
My beautiful wife was still so young at that time,
She was ***** on the banks of river Ravi & killed,
In no cloth was she draped as they burnt her body,
After pouring whiskey all over her lifeless body."

His voice broke and a stream of tears escaped,
Down his eyes they flowed like the river Ravi,
"In front of my two eyes the men had ***** her,
Her mistake? Looking at them once & smiling,
Sin as great to be punished by such brutal drab?
What God, Ishwar or Allah did they follow?
I have known all & none advocates ****,
To which parents could they born?
Must be the devil & the witch."

By now his nose was red and his sobs audible.
He said, "She was not just *****, she was also killed,"
The ancient rickshaw puller gasped for breath as he said,
"Would the high heavens thank them for killing my wife,
She was a Hindu and an idolater with my mangalsootra,
Why they spared my life I have no idea but just remorse,
Will their Allah or God spare them on Doomsday?"

==============

If I was a real world king,
The assassin group at my command,
Would consist of 13 experts.

If there was an assassin's creed,
They will carry out my royal orders,
All 13 of them along with me.

So would be the deadliest group,
So would be the perfect killers,
So would be the "14 Marksmen".

Human life is not weak,
And it is very audacious.
Nearing its extinction,
Humanity was in the 1300s.
But humanity resurged,
Even after the great famine,
And the Black Death too.

Dear Pooh Bear
I can never get over
The memory of your scent.

Never let me
Find you gone and
Just stay here until the end.

We have a dream
To pursue and achieve
For our cute next generation.

It was nightfall,
I felt very sleepy,
And I dozed-off
To the stud in my
Dreams-Dreams.

Oh how strong he was!
All muscle unlike my body,
Stiffer, stronger & ***** he was!

She gave a bath,
And a massage too,
To the stud in my
Dreams-Dreams.

She caresses it sweetly,
And she kisses it too,
Yes, the stud in my
Dreams-Dreams.

She kissed my stud,
A bit too much and,
The stud spewed its stomach
Out on her face,
In my most wild
Dreams-Dreams.

The girl's eyes were,
Teeming with tears,
To the stud in my
Dreams-Dreams.

As she was happy,
Tears were of joy,
To the stud in my
Dreams-Dreams.

To a dead conscience,
To the bygone morality,
To the diminishing values,
To the idols of honesty, and
To their ghastly appearance.

To un-dead suicidal victims,
To their unblessed families,
To the tears they let flow,
To disappeared smiles,
To missed birthdays.

To suffering people,
To unbalanced sheets,
To sinking cash reserves,
To their zombie-like bodies,
To the stinking ***** politics.

A new kind of acrostic for my Pooja:

While observing this love of ours,
Over the time this world will be jealous.
Me you will always find by your side,
But we won't let 'em drain our hours,
Mine you are solely & I am only yours,
Over the decades, they will observe us,
We will rather enjoy our lovely showers.

Yes, my love, we are going to be happy,
Over the long time span of several years,
Under the blessings bestowed upon us,
Rose of our love has no thorns,
Up above into the bed of soft clouds,
Onto our heads from the divine mother,
Yes, my love, it'll be her blessing for us.

I love you and that's an irreversible fact,
Nostalgia of her loving caring nature is here,
Toss all the worry away into the water,
Onto the surface of an agitated stream,
Think of us both as the same entity,
Never fear the outcome of a nicely done job,
I am your friend and your mother.

Cool whispers will make their way,
Onto your ears they will make ways,
Medley of pop songs they will play,
Even though we will have differences,
My love you cherish, multiply & reflect,
Over the moonlit sky so dark blue,
Calling all the best caring careful souls.

We, you and me, are blessed to be together,
It's as if we were never different actually,
Let's not worry about the unknown future,
Let's just receive what comes with open arms,
Let's not fear anything that has not happened yet,
It's impractical to worry about the unknown,
What if we succeed should be our thought.

Because you love me like you have never loved,
And I love you exactly like you ever wanted,
Being together should be our foremost priority,
Yes, with each other we are creating magic,
But this is just a hint of our potential together,
And we are capable of a lot more after marriage,
Because you and I love each other so much.

Another thing about this love of ours,
A baby will come into your womb.

I do not love you,
You read it right,
As saying just I love you is so less.

Because I more than love you, partner,
Yes you're right,
I am totally mad.

The gusts of wind rustle through his dark hair as he rides his broomstick
In the search of the golden snitch – In the search of the ferrety golden snitch.
And in his mind whizzes past an image – at lightning speed, very swiftly,
As his expert eyes go after the small shiny metallic ball.

The Nimbus 2000 he once owned has now been replaced with another
In the attempt to make him quicker – In the attempt to make him quicker.
His eyes look like his mother Lily’s – His father James was a Seeker,
This is an analogy of a natural case of heredity in Harry.

The old broomstick Nimbus 2000 he owned was broken into pieces
In his third year at the school of magic – In his third year at Hogwarts.
Dementors attacked him – in the Quidditch pitch during a match,
And he fell several feet below from air before Dumbledore saved him.

I AM LONGING FOR YOUR LOVE
I was born with a morose luck.

Awnings of my eyelids contain it,
Meaning to contain the deluge.

Love me not with anything restricting you,
Onto my future, you should move,
Not carrying the baggage of your past,
Genteel breezes of your breath, me they heal,
Into the future you must step with me,
Not worrying about negative things,
Guest you be mine and just accompany me.

Few to wait are more years,
Over the long and lanky,
Rosy and sunny days.

Yes, only your love saves me,
On the days of loneliness,
Under the wicked sky,
Rugged are otherwise my feelings.

Lost in the past is my sweetheart,
Ostensible is my love for you,
Veering away from it you are,
Expecting I am this exclusivity.