I’m in a phase
I’d like to erase
Or slip out sideways.
I’m swimming in a sea
Alien to me
And I want be free.
I don’t want this to last
So I swim fast
Trying to escape the past.
But I’m tied to this place
And the past keeps pace
Slapping me in the face.
How high should I reach
To get to the beach
Where my tongue can find freedom of speech.
Am I running out of time
Can I call back my prime
Or is it buried in grime?
Will time tell
If I dwell
In a place like hell?
Or is it the battle of the mind
That slips out to find
What is unkind?
Must I then grin
And fight the sin
The battle to win -
The beasts of thought within.
It’s nice to have a little patch of beach
A spot away from where you can reach
To waves and sand and sun-setting skies
A spot away from frantic bustling city cries.
A spot is important you will see
It’s an escape where you can be
It’s a high better than the cigarette -
You’ll see there’s no need to light up to forget
There’s no need to be in that smoking slot
No need to puff or blow ***.
For on the beach you’ll get your spot
A perfect place that’s forever sought.
With the dawn of each day
I could seize the chance
To slip away,
Be blown off by the wind
Churn along, go for a spin -
Turn into a new leaf:
Blow breaths of cooling relief.
I must steal away at dawn,
Swim with the whistling swan
And not just listen to the
The song of the rain,
Through my window pane.
I should frequent the wild
At dawn like a forgotten child
Be covered in green mesh
Hide under a growing bark
Of jade flesh.
Or be a part
Of a wild blowing storm
Awaken to a new life form :
Swinging in nature’s tender fragrance,
Ripening in sun’s glorious radiance.
Be a flower on tree
To the honey bee.
Time can never stay
The ticking of the clock
Takes timely stock
Of the days that roll to years
And of what occurs
And of what stays or disappears.
Twixt the angle of paradigm
That sweeps through ticking time.
When old friends meet
Time is the healing retreat.
Slipping into different zones,
Completely oblivious of cell-phones!
And the time that is the present-now
Seems too short; somehow
For a grander celebration -
And a fuller exchange of conversation.
But grateful, still for the exchanges between
The now and when we were fifteen.
I feel a simple joy
As I look upon the hills
The kind that uplifts my heart
Without the skiing thrills.
The trees look their best
All dressed in multi-coloured hues
And stretch for miles around
Against skies of brightest blues.
And as I watch the sun,
Rise from the other side;
I see life stirring out,
From where at night it hides.
The sky gets filled with colour:
To a warm tangerine-orange glow;
And my mind is filled with awe,
At this wondrously delightful show.
Some birds have started
Singing their happy whistling tunes;
And will continue with their songs,
Till its way past noon.
There are some that have started
Before the day broke into dawn,
And unite with the melodies
Of those who start later in the morn.
And these very merry sounds
So full of happy cheer
Makes the state of Kashmir,
Our very prized frontier.
The sounds are echoed far and wide
On this mountainous terrain
Over hills and through valleys
They reach below to the plains.
At night it gets all quiet,
Except for the babbling brook
And the occasional hoot of the owl
That startles me from my book.
The festive season is here,
And shoppers busy on their feet,
Are looking for bargains
At every corner of the street.
The lantern-sellers stand,
Right outside the market square;
Trying to entice passers
To buy their curious tinsel ware.
If during this time, you chance
Upon this bustling way,
The sparkling lights and lanterns
Are sure to brighten up your day!
Some of the glittering objects,
That decorate the stalls,
Seem to mesmerize the shoppers
As they step into the malls.
Articles of myriad colours
And lanterns that disperse rainbow light
Decorate the city streets
All through the joyous night.
I rushed to the market square
To see what I should buy
And found a brilliant lantern
That caught the fancy of my eye.
I made a quick bargain
And now that lantern adorns my door,
And it really dazzles me
When it mirrors in the floor.
How green is our city? Is it bleak and bare?
Do open spaces exist; or are only buildings erected there?
And what is that stench? Is it the pollution in the air?
And what if it is, do we in fact stop to care?
I once read that Bombay was called 'The city of Gold' -
And that there were gardens and open spaces manifold.
But I see no gardens nor strips of wastelands,
For flowers to grow so the city can look grand.
But instead the place is crowded with smoke.
How easy it is to turn the laws into a joke!
It is elsewhere; when global warming is the news,
It can't shock us enough, to stop us from the items we use .
There's a hole in the sky ... Is that of any consequence?
It's too far away for it to make any sense.
There should have been open spaces or trees lining up the roads,
But what we mostly see, is concrete or shanties in hoards!
I hear that it's the politicians' whim (?)
Myopic visions that are making our future dim.
But aren't we all in some way to blame?
For what has begotten this city to shame?
Can't anything be done to correct the flaws?
To discipline the people not to manipulate the laws?
Or do we have to wait for a court decree?
To allow us to co-exist peacefully?
To breathe fresh air and for better earth care?
Our city is decaying by the day -
What can be done to prevent this dismay?
Surely if each one of us realizes his due
There won't be such an environment issue.
The air will be clean, the earth, more green
The benefits of these is for us to reap
It's easy if we maintain its regular upkeep!