Little James says he's reading
he seats tight but he's kidding
through the lines he's skimming
like a serious student he's feeling

Just few minutes he's sleeping
Exam is over he's laughing,
never to read again till next term opening
the habit of those who are cramming

Hold your book without dozing,
Set your mind to intensive reading,
Focus on helpful useful knowing
to be bold when you are graduating.

Moon:

Above the star
Along the universe
Towards nowhere
From the end
Off the ground
Around oblivion
Past the stars
Without scars
Before mars
Across the cosmos
Is my moon.

Bland colours on the walls reflect our hearts.
Cold drafts in the empty hallways inspire doubt in our already clouded minds.
       A stream of words, uninterrupted through the weeks and months, never ceasing,
        breaks even the strongest discipline.

Droning, numbing, abrading away all thought or whim, melding perfection,
           that may never come, that will never fully avail itself upon the collective senses
            Of the plenitude of “students” living and working between these walls.
The walls painted a uniform eggshell, urging to stay in the incubator.

The door stands as a gateway to another, brighter, complete, world.
              The door, though with hinges easily opened, and a threshold easily crossed,
               Has been lifted to a height unattainable to those who work alone, or in dissidence with others.
                It stands as a gateway, but the way has never been as arduous, nor as complicated, quite as now.

Why won’t you accept who I am
It’s like my whole existence is a sham
I’m told about who I used to be
What if that other me was never even really me
And what if I said I’ve changed
What if I’ve grown up and rearranged.
Sure I still love to bake and read
But I’m not the same, let me grow I plead.
I’m an artist. But to what extent.
I can be creative but I should have your consent.
I can draw and be wild
But in your eyes I am still I child.
I want my body as my canvas, to hold the things I love.
But it’s like I am a bandit, one you want rid of.
I want to color my hair to change with the wind.
But you’re inclined to remind me that it’s “just not me”
I never stopped being me don’t you see.
It’s how the me I am should be.
Don’t hold me back
I might draw back.
And sink into my void.
All because you destroyed.
Your wild blue eyed bird

Through death we learn how precious life is.
We are given the gift of your first and last home.
With the first cut, your struggles, your joys and your scars are all revealed.
And we see you.

We see the physical pieces, tissues and organs that you inhabited.
The lungs that expanded with your first breath and collapsed with your last.
The heart that beat for the first time in synchrony with your mother's.
The womb in which you created life.

But when we see you,
We also find foreigners who took your space for themselves.
The cancers which suffocated and starved you.
Sutures, scars, and remnants of past surgeries intended to extend your life.
Abnormalities and deformities that not only defined your perfect imperfection, your humanness,
But also evicted you from your physical being.

So lucky are we to learn from you.
So indebted are we to you
For your generosity and humility.
Like all great teachers, you have made great sacrifices in the name of education.
And for that we are truly grateful.

While your ears cannot hear our "thank-you"
We know you are listening and watching over us
As we pursue the knowledge and empathy we need
To become great doctors.

in the stillest moments of the night,
when the only company i have
are broken pencils and broken thoughts
and the only light in my vision
is my laptop, the blankness
taunting me,
i have an indescribable urge
to prove myself.

my soul, that space in my chest,
tells me to fight.
fight what? where? i ask,
wisps of my hair twining
between my tired fingers.

(my fingers are tired; of writing, of
those moments when
you can't envision your future
so you assume it's dead.)

that space in my chest replies,
quiet and determined:
fight the voices
in your ear,
telling you each and every way
you'll amount to nothing.
fight them, and win
simply because
you can.
fight expectations
prove those who
told you each and every way
you'll amount to nothing
wrong.
come out on top.
laugh in their faces.
prove you can fight. prove you can last.

prove you can win.

We're here now,
and theres more than the two of us.
But there's one feeling, and the same ache
yet different struggles
- * -
We all think the same things,
yet in different tongues.
The histories do not include us.
Our taste buds have had to adapt to the wind here,
we have learnt from the best of the chameleons.
- * -
It's the same stage set up and the curtains were never drawn,
but our eyes see a completely different story being played out.
Collective whispers greater than a shout.
Peace of mind has been a while, it'll take long...
Home isn't where the heart is, when the heart keeps moving around.

I would rather stay at home,
And make five poems in a day.
Than to go to school,
And face a teacher with dismay.

Learn to learn –
from your success but especially mistakes
from your friends but especially enemies
from your acquaintance but especially strangers
from the big events but especially small ones
from your teachers but especially peers
from the easy things but especially difficult ones

When you learn –
learn to focus on just learning and nothing else
learn to learn from any and every circumstance
learn to just learn inspite of appreciation or criticism
learn to leave your ego completely
learn to blindly follow the prudent guru
learn to be the best among all in learning