End is the beginning of another doom,
since evils are not born from wombs.
A son he is to a mother,
and so neglected are the symptoms.
Good might be his foundation,
but fate destroys it all.
Struggle is pronounced,
life on fire.
endurance has limits,
the strongest heart dies,
an obstinate, wicked mind arises from ashes.
Then are done the follies, so noticeable,
he is criticized, is made the Villain.
Then the head is on sale,
with biddings so high.
The team that preys on him,
is awarded public acclaim.
Then is he known in history,
God of turmoil.
Stories are made with him as a villain,
and little children taught the false old rhyme,

bad times may break,
but real good stands undestroyed.

Who is the real Villain is to be judged,
As oldest rocks not always yield diamonds.

Drops of mist hang loosely on his overcoat,
As he waits underneath the same tree,
Gaze fixed at the window,
Waiting for the beloved,
To again arise from her sleep.

Where are you Devi ?

Up in the Kailasha
in the arms of Mahadeva
snowclad silent in meditation
while down below in their settlement
humans in the belief you've come down
adorn you with flowers with their hands
and with those same hands **** own blood
rob own kin debauch mothers and sisters
crowd your place of worship with no piety
but for selfies with your image on the background
for Devi unbeknownst to even you
you're no more the Shakti
the prowess against the Evil
but a commerce, a commodity
in the hands of men of 21st century
who know to worship only money.

बनती है, टूटी है।
पर्वतों से, नदियों में बहकर,
समतल जमीन पर एकत्रित हो जाती है।
फिर किसी बढ़ में बह जाती है।

किसी को जीवन देती है,
किसी के जीवन को पोषित करती है।
टूटी है, बनती है, गुणों का समावेश करती चली जाती है।

कभी समीर संग उड़ जाती है,
तो कभी रत्नाकर से मिल जाती है।
अपने अस्तित्व को ख़त्म नहीं करती है।

फिर कहीं एकत्रित होगी,
नए जीवन को रूप देगी,
पर अपने मूल आचरण को कभी  न भूलेगी।

Like ice and fire,
Lust and wrath shall meet,
To **** the human in me.

After months of solitude,
The crack of shell,
Preordained,
Was an incentive,
To regain contact.

But I had made up my mind,
Talk when needed.
Tried to be invisible.

There are means,
Meetings and circumstances,
Not within our understanding.

Oblivious to everything,
I hardly recognized faces besides me.
And He was one of them.

It was so simple for him to ask me, 'What was pseudo chiral carbon?'
I scarcely looked at his face,
Provided the information.

When not in sight,
It struck me who he was?
After few days of constant search,
I found him.

There were little Sparks of wanting to know more,
And easily I forgot about him.

And one day,
My eyes fixed on him,
For moment such a brief,
But I withdrew them.

And from then and everyday,
I looked at him,
Once or twice.
And he did the same.

Wanted him to look at something in my eyes,
But we both ignored it.

There were ways I tried to gain attention,
Coming early was one option,
But fearing the disclosure of my emotions,
Never looked at him.

How silly I was,
Thinking of coincidences,
That can bring up a conversation.

He hardly cared.
Attitude is all I possess,
And confirmed to minds thinking.

Seldom have I thought of,
Coincidences,
But when they concern him,
Wish it to be true.

And Maybe one day,
He'll look into my eyes.
And find what I have been trying to hide.

Glistening surface,
shiny twinkles,
Down the valley,
Quenching thirst.
Drops of elixir,
Blood red petals,
Warmth is gold.