Born into the world with limitless potential and a full set of armour.

Day by Day the potential lessens and they chip at his armour.

The point is reached when the potential, now lost, is only a fork in the road.

The armour once proudly donned now hanging by a mere tether to his heart.

To the left a chance to rebuild, to the right the sweet embrace of nothing.

The first step is taken to the right not of thought but impulse for relief.

The second step is then taken, with every step, arms reach out to change the direction.

No touch registers, no words heard and the faintest glimpse of the fork he started at remains at his back.

Only one step remains till he can no longer go back...

I'm watching the rain, again
watching how it's driven
crashing from the heavens
towards the Earth
bringing new life, rebirth
such a precious commodity
yet it's treated with triviality
man cannot live without water
but will fight to death for an idea
being heralded a martyr
shedding precious tears
tell me why you fight?
why you need the pain
when everything will be alright
right as rain.

? ! ~

⌄+⌃/
$ & @
- - -
\⌃+ ⌄

(“
} {
+%
”)

… ? ¶

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
This poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled "गीत का जन्म" published in Hindi Literary Magazine 'Veena' in June 2013
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Whe­n the wounds given by you gave much pain
Lightening occurred and cloud thundered
Downpour started, Poetry sprouted
It consoled and fed ambrosia
Relieved wounds, brought relief

Brick should be answered with stone
The poet also knows this
And also believes somehow
But throwing Brick is beyond his nature

In response to the brick and stone
He recites poetry
He sings a new song
On hearing his song

The one who wounded him, barks first
Then loudly bursts
Throws brick and stone again and again
The poet again recites a song

Keeps Smiling and Smiling
Creates a new poem
This proves beyond any doubt
Brick and stones give birth to Poetry.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
गीत का जन्म
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

तुम्हारे ज़ख्मों ने जब दर्द बख्शा
बिजली चमकी और बादल गरजा
कविता फूटी और जल बरसा
उसने मुझे संभाला, अमृत पिलाया
घावों को राहत दी, आराम पहुंचाया

ईंट का जवाब पत्थर से देना चाहिए
कवि भी यह जानता है
पूरी तरह से मानता है
पर ईंट चलाना उसके बस की बात नहीं

ईंट और पत्थर के जवाब में
वह कविता सुनाता है
गीत नया गाता है
जिसे सुन सुनकर

पहले तो मारनेवाला भुनभुनाता है
फिर जोर से फनफनाता है
पुनः ईंट और पत्थर चलाता है
कवि फिर गीत सुनाता है

खड़ा खड़ा मुस्कुराता है
नयी कविता बनाता है
इससे यह सिद्ध होता है
ईंट पत्थर कविता को जन्म देते है|