Summer Story

Cruel Sun, heating up the matter,

The ray blades burning up the skin,

But something was holding me strong,

Some Shelter, I was feeling home within,

Flowers abloom, or at least in words,

For rest of the world was a desert,

This was the summer of my love story,

This was the summer that felt like a blizzard,

Marking its presence, the stage of this play,

Shining its name, was the bus’ bay,

And how I wished her bus never came,

Coz’ close to me, that can make her stay,

But more it made me calm, it psyched her,

Restless of Sun, and of wait, we talked,

Though I was destined for someplace else,

Where we’re together, towards that path I walked,

Her eyes, her words, were working on the spell,

I lost myself in her, and found her in me,

The romantic novels, and the love sonnets, once invisible,

Were now those distinct Colors, which I can see!

The Coffee Mugs, the window panes, and the morning dew,

Everything looked beautiful, like never before,

Those 45 days of warmth, wrapped by her arms,

I never knew it was the only love for me in the store,

The heat got mild with the darkening clouds,

This story was ending and so were her college days,

I was high, on this flight with her,

But it was time, for this heart to return to its base,

As good as she made me feel, with her presence

She had to pass, like a summer breeze,

I wish I could hold her in my arms; for a moment,

If for a moment; forever, I wanted that moment to freeze,

The sky cried with me, that night

Few drops of love, poured in by the rain,

For some time I believed to have caught those drops,

Less a mild feel of touch, these drops finally drain.

The Dream

When it all began for me, the dream,

College; they said was fun,

Speech was a free bird, wild and country less,

But meaning was hard to be found, if not none.

Grab it all; fetch it if you can,

Everything was available, but again,

You’ll get it only if it’s in the script,

As they hold the rope to the curtain,

Shaping myself into one of them,

Ideating their stenciled design into action,

I got dragged on the path of slavery,

I burned my angel, for my devil’s resurrection,

The code executed, and brought me to next level,

I graduated from the collage Prom, into the conference room,

To travel to the day where the Sun watches me shine,

And to the world where flowers see me bloom,

But more I is out of the swamp of the monarchy,

Deepen I got stuck into this Corporate Sand,

Yes they are living here, laughing, if on the programmed jokes,

Yet the hunt is on, to survive in this Zombie land,

Beautiful, as it seemed on the horizon,

The man beneath the mask is playing yet another game,

The world is but just a cage, staged on purpose

Coz it’s the beast within me he is looking to tame.

Tortured till I fall, all I know is being numb

Dried off all the emotions, sentenced a barren life,

Even though the desire to live if I had any, died

There is something in me that did survive

It is the dream, untamed and unbound,

To fall deep in love, to let that pain make me cry,

To be awake and still live that dream,

And for this dream to live, I shall die

Here I come, Oh Mumbai!

Here I come, Oh Mumbai!

To lose myself in your randomness,

To sleep listening to the local lullabies,

To live ruling the slum fortress,

Hold me in your arms tight,

And let me cry out loud,

Show me the way to life,

And teach me what love is all about,

So here I come, Oh Mumbai!

To overcome my fear,

To let go of my first love ever,

And to shed away my final tear.

Angels Shining Bright

Whatever fire was in me, was for them to see,
I was a slave for my thoughts, they set me free,

When I lost the battle to the world, and was alone,
They loved me; they pampered their way through my solace,
When I declared myself the cruel king on the ego throne,
they hated me; they slapped the reality on my face,

Whatever fire was in me, with air, they let that flame wrestle,
for my friends were the soul for this otherwise empty breathing castle."

Dark times, when mirror denied me of identity, but illusion,
They became my identity amongst the shadows of the world,
They give the reason for my sanity, and the cause to my existence,
They are the colors in my clothing, and the shine in my pearls,

Whatever fire was in me, they gave it the reason to ignite,
And when the demons crept in, they were the angels shining bright.

Mystique Soul

The avalanche of this “mystique soul”,
Flows with a vivid desire,
Defying all the laws of tenancy,
Burning itself into an outrageous fire,

Excluding all its reasons to live,
And burying all the reasons to die,
Falsifying the presence of randomness,
Refuting the existence of certainty,
Its state, it tries to justify,

As the breeze renders life to waves,
And potter gives shapes to the vessels,
Extruding itself into an aura,
Neither mortal for captivation,
Nor immortal for sanctification,

It achieves the glory of divinity,
And creates a pathway of illumination,
Bringing life to all the characters at world’s stage
Accounting for all the narration,
For all the actions are defined by its aspirations,

For this flesh and blood are inconclusive,
This soul is the source of incarnation,
Carrying the existence of the almighty,
Compacted into so defined “one mystique soul”,
Justifying the reason and source of creation

Incomplete

As the day has grown old to its age,

The night is abloom with youth and beauty,

We came closer and entwined to one

But then destiny came amidst,

Success invoked my man’s ego,

And glory bonded you with aspirations

Our ways separated, dreams shattered,

No one was to be blamed, but the situation,

I ignored sagacious friends,

I was running away from salvation

Undoing the thought of the wad which was missing,

I continued my voyage without defining the destination,

I won the battle but then realized,

I was on my own to share that surprise,

As for which I gave my whole life,

It was actually a fool’s paradise,

It cost me my life’s biggest treasure,

For it cost me her indeed,

Yes! Now I meant something to world,

But meaning of life without her was Incomplete

The Black Spot

With the music and food with the proportionate blend,

With the farewell party and my career’s end,

I got up from the bed, and poured a glass of water,

On my head, to get out from last night’s hangover,

With an partially processed thought,

I took out my white shirt,

I observed it with a shock,

It carried a little black spot,

Was it saying something to me?

Or was it just a dirty stain?

Was it somebody’s soaked blood on my collar?

Or was it just the washer man’s pain?

For whatever reason it came to my mind,

But it was surely my life’s gain,

As it tells the saga of all my deeds,

And accounts for all the sins I refrain,

It reminds me of the Muslim man,

Whom I locked up in the police cell,

In the case of the murder of a minister,

And given the torture that was utterly grim,

But was he actually the one to be blamed?

Or because the Law says,

That someone has to be held responsible,

So preferably a Muslim was to Framed,

My focus then shifts to that big celebrity,

Whom I allowed to drive, while he was drunk,

As he paid me some currency notes,

I still wonder who was to be blamed,

For the people he killed that night on the road.

Is that black spot referring to my malice?

Or is it laughing on my solace?

For all I did, Oh! My dear Lord,

There’s one more killing added to it,

Which is the very human you seeded inside me,

As for all those mishaps, I was the only perigee,

And if someone has to be punished,

It is none other than me.