At the dawn

At the dawn of time,
Soft chilly breeze played
around with the roses dry
and fresh in my hands.
Fresh ones became the
beauty of the tiara .
Dried were found in books
as a token of love and
leaving the mark of the
downfall

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What shall I search for ?

Fairy tales and magic
Or Coffee and free will ?

Getting back from the journey
of keeping things that mattered
intact and let them go ,
my journal and wish list
remained untouched ,
unfulfilled.
But my soul was
filled with experiences 

Even God gives you
daily one chance
to ask anything .
Anything
                 ask wisely

At the shore

I always loved Standing alone
Watching the shore
The waves and the sunset
Only this time
The impressions were different
What made it different was my emotions y
elling at me
Screaming now you are not
going to be here again at the same stage
You never belonged here
You are going,
Going off from everyone
My mind is at peace
I know, this is what I wanted
Knowing this is what I dreamt of
The reality was it was not like
I imagined

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You are

You are a warrior,
for you,
some battles will be
for your own sake;
and some with your
own self.

At dark
you will be all alone ,
gazing at the stars,
counting the days of
Survival.

In days
you would be staring at
the wall blankly with
patience.

Nostalgic
with the memories
of yourself,
you started living
in the
past.

But you act
like a water
both running and
still.



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The Window

Sunday, end of the weekend but it was just another weekend ending for a jobless like me. I was glued to my Instagram account reading the posts
of all my favorites’ poet, wondering how talented they are, dreaming to be one of them and cursing my writers block. It seems writer’s block loves me that’s why it keeps visiting me often.From
few days I am trying to write but my thoughts doesn’t support.


It started raining heavily, I kept my phone aside and went to my window to enjoy the view. As it was already midnight the roads were silent,only voice I can hear was of rain drops falling on the mud, creating music along with the heavenly smell of mud, this is what I call serendipity. Usually a writer prefers a place surrounded by nature and full of peace to think to pour out whatever is going on in his/her mind but I found my own serendipity in that window.


Out of nowhere I remembered a line “NOTHING IS PERMANENT “. I felt like this line is revolving all around me, if nothing is permanent then even this has to go this Serendipity. May be I won’t be able to witness this moment again. My heart didn’t wanted to accept it. There were many thoughtful arguments going on in my mind


If nothing is permanent

Then how come memory resides

 In our heart for forever?


If nothing is permanent

Why love doesn’t fade away with time?


If nothing is permanent

Then why human wake up

With the hope

To survive every day?


If nothing is permanent

Then why the sun’s light

Is always determined?


If nothing is permanent

Then how can a child’s

Laughter can be temporary?



It’s people’s perspective

That is temporary but

Their emotions are

Always permanent


When rains stopped I went back inside, took out my old journal and Ran my hands through the pages,

Everything was alive, nothing was gone. Everything in my life was permanent. I captured them through my ink.

Wanderlust

Bohot kuch chize rok deti he
hame zindagi jine se ,
Warna hum bhi kahi goom
hote un wadiyon me jaha
na kuch paane ka man
ho na khone ka dar .

English :

Many things stop me to exist
according to my own ,
or else I could have been
lost in those valleys where
there won't be an impulse to
attain something or being scared
of losing anything .

Son of a balloon man

Yes , son of a balloon man
It's my real identity
My father tries to make
children happy by selling
these colorful  balloons,
but they appear colorless to me.
In fact, I became scared when
they are not sold ,
no sale means no food to eat .

The kids over there must
have thought how lucky I am ,
that my father is a balloon man.
I can play with balloons whenever I want .
Honestly, I never got a
Chance to play with them ,
to run with them .
They never amazed me !

Sometimes I ask my father,
"Why I am not allowed to play
like other kids playing in that garden ? "
My father answered,
"You are too mature for all this "
Matured ? What does it mean?
Must be a word , I will learn it
Once I will join the school

Note for self

In these busy days we barely bother to keep a check on ourselves.Yes, keep a check on our own self .We seldom try to remain in touch with relatives, cousins , friends , colleagues, but we never try to find out what we are doing. In this hustle bustle we never bother to observe how life is changing day by day. Of course we are aware of what is going on in our head .But How indifferent we've become.We do need to realize our thoughts, desires , dreams which remain unexplored in the time span. Something's are best interpreted by our own self.Or we can decide better which one would be the
best alternative


Take some time from your busy schedule, spend time with yourself. Spending time doesn't mean sitting in the corner and thinking hopelessly.Go out and just have fun! Go for a movie.Or a coffee date.A long walk or drive somewhere. Read your favorite book .Go out to the shore , let the sound of breeze touch your heart . Allow the waves resemble your thoughts. Listen to music, and those family pictures, those memories are enough to make you see how amazing life is. Why not have a restart with hobbies.I think we won't long for others company or time .

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Some Day

Some days you will feel lost
Some day you will feel broken.
On some day there would be tears .
On some day you will feel alone.

Someday you'll need
friendly hugs.
On someday you'll simply
Want to sit alone and think .
Someday you'll feel like
To go away.
Again, some day you want to
take that particular opportunity .

Someday you'll feel
You've missed everything .
Again, some day you might
Find things unworthy.
Someday there would be
Loads of confusion ,
The same day you will end up
Discovering something
Residing Inside You!
During all these days
One thing has
Remained constant
Heart !!
It beats daily
To endure !
It beats daily
With a hope for a
Better future with
positivity !
It beats daily
With a thought to
Change something !
Every day are same
For that living being
But
There's definitely
something there .
Something
different every day
Making efforts to
prepare a path.

Agra Fort

It was made by the inhabitants
to show off royalty.
Red sandstones are valued ,
What about the value of
blood and sweat used
during its construction?
Saw many colors
Never reflected any.
Was looted
Yet its history is prosperous
Sun's the same,
Thousands are still
attracted to this fort.
Even
Kings and Queens are
mentioned every day as before.
.. But now this fort proves their worth every time

An Acquaintance With Rumi

(1) There is a light seed grain inside.
      You fit it with yourself, or it dies.

(2) Today like every other day, 

      we wake up empty 
      and frightened.

      Don't open the door to the study
      and begin reading. Take down a     

       musical instrument.

      Let the beauty we love be what we do.
      There are hundreds of ways to kneel  

      and kiss the ground. 

(3) Who sees inside from outside?
      Who finds hundreds of mysteries
      even where minds are deranged ?

      See through his eyes what he sees.

      Who then is looking out from his eyes?

  (4)  The minute I heard my first love story

       I started looking for you, not knowing
       how blind that was.

       Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
       They're in each other all along.

(5)  We are the mirror as well as the 

       face in it.
       We are tasting the taste this minute
       of eternity. We are pain
       and what cures pain , both. We are
       the sweet cold water and the
        Jar that pours. 

(6)   In your light I learn how to love.
        In your beauty, how to make poems

        You dance inside my chest,
        where no one sees you,
  
        But sometimes I do,
        and that sight becomes this art .

(7)   I am filled with you.
       Skin,blood,bone,brain, and soul,
       There's no room for lack of trust, 

       or trust.

       Nothing in this existence but
      that existence

(8)   Humble living does not diminish.It fills.
        Going back to a simpler self
        gives wisdom.
  
        When a man makes up a story for

         his child,
        he becomes a father and a child
        together , listening. 

Distractions

I wrote this poem few months back , but this poems always remind what I am doing and where I want to go .

I felt the time was getting somewhere
But I ,
I was sitting at the same place doing nothing
I gazed at those idle faces
and pretended to be listening to them
Only I was unconsciously distracted
Distracted ?
Distracted by my own thoughts,
Thoughts which made me
different from others
Distracted by my dreams
Dreams
Dreams which always forced me to crave more
Or distracted ?
by the excitement which did lead me somewhere in the little world 
It did sink my focus
and I was not troubled at all
I wondered  why I was heading to it
But I wanted to explore that
little world too
Little world,
I don't cognize what it was going to assure me ,
But I do feel a friendly vibe coming forward
Which gave me a hope of optimism,
a vibe
who will have the faith in me  ,
a vibe who will teach me of life
And someone whispered my name
Booom
I was fenced in by negativity again

What do I want

I always loved Standing alone
Watching the shore
The waves and the sunset
Only this time
The impressions were different
What made it different was my emotions yelling at me Screaming now you are not going to be here again at the same stage
You never belonged here
You are going,
Going off from everyone
My mind is at peace
I know, this is what I wanted
Knowing this is what I dreamt of
The reality was it was not like
I imagined

Coffee O Clock

Towards the end of this day ,
I sat on the same ordinary chair where thousands of wanderers must have sat .
Holding this
cup of coffee
I glanced around me .
I felt like surrounded by tears, hugs and half broken smiles .
Sipping from my cup,
I observed
There were people .
Many I say
Some travelling to distant lands ,
must have hated parting
did a farewell anyway with tears
hugs and half-broken smiles
After all hope is the strange thing which keeps us going on
Some came from the Arrival Gates
eager eyes searching ,
relived after seeing each other
Again, there were tears,
This time Tears of delight
Tears of astonishment
With a wide smile
It was a moment for son and mother
A moment for brother and sister
A moment for husband and wife
They just stood there for a while ,
greeting , introducing and
recalling something old .
Afterwards returned to where they were lusting to go
Home.
I picked up my cup,
It was deep within
I realized the same was the life , deep
A mixture of various ingredients
My dad asked what are you observing ?
I replied Nothing
"Found some similarities"
Once more, I heard the announcement
of Plane arriving and check in
for departure