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Harsh Doshi Mar 2015
Faces unknown, side by side;
Cooperating and mingling;
Looking for a better spot, and yet,
heading the same way.

Everyone becomes equal,
Everyone pays the same fare,
Everyone has a life,
Each as complex as the rest.

Every face is new,
Every mood different.
holding some mystery,
Each different,
None less or more.

A game of patience;
Waiting to reach the end of one path,
And the beginning of another.
A hurry to get up, and get down.

A bus, a metro, a train,
An auto and an aeroplane,
The modest pace of a tram,
The coziness of a shuttle van.

The stories in a public transport,
Are things I wouldn't wanna miss.

I shall never, for the life of me,
Stop traveling in public transport.
Without it, I wouldn't be me.
For me, public transport itself represents life.

P.S. : this is the only poem I have written while not in a public transport.
Harsh Doshi Aug 2014
She* ran, and they ran after her.
It's common, they said.

She's exclusive, and he wants her
It's common, they said.

Of course she's not human,
she's a goddess, they said.
Must act like one,
conform as such.

And It's common, they said.

Shouldn't earn, she's too good for that;
just marry a man!
He'll keep you happy and secure,
which you can't do yourself.

Eat less, be a skeleton, be beautiful, they said.
that's the way you will get a man to buy you, they said.

Be a product irresistible,
and be rewarded;
The brain is unimportant.

And it's all common, they said.

She's beautiful, she's awesome.
She's got fatter don't you think? Eww.
She's so ugly, she doesn't deserve him.
Oh heavens!

Superficial appearance is all that matters, They said.
**And it's all very common, they said.
P.S.: This is a very spontaneous work.
P.P.S.: I am a feminist, and proudly so.
Harsh Doshi Aug 2014
I'm not Harsh,
It's just a name
I'm not my name.

Not easily definable in a word.

I'm a complex, living, breathing,
forever running life force.
different from anyone else.

If I am to love myself,
I must know,
that I'm different from the rest.

For this,
if anyone is different,
I must love and respect them for the same reasons,
that make me love myself.

Because difference equals to human,
And diversity is the spelling of life.
-written not by a Harsh, not just any Harsh. It's The Harsh. The one and only;

As you too are The Reader, and not just a reader.

— The End —