LEFTOVER!!!

A sudden bump to the past,
a face lost, effaced from memory glass

what was I?
what I wondered?
what I dreamt?
what I hoped for?
what i thought?

Lost
Lost
Lost......

Austerilized!!!

Totally preposterous... a controversy over Tharoor saying Economy class to "Cattle Class". It was a joke , everybody can understand. But the Great Indian Political Circus continues. And.. stupid austerity drive.... All their lives the "Holy Cows" travel at expense of Indian Public... and then once they travel on the Economy and Media start publishing their "breaking News"...get over it please.

They cant sterlize the problems by not spending money...but providing others with oppurtunity to earn money...

Mr. Tharoor spending his HARD EARNED money in any fashion should be a area of concern to him only. What they want to say....should he devote all his money to charity?? Please...start taking politics as a serious profession...bring in the best and ask them to excel and not become super human ...KARN.....
Solve the problem please don't create....
and also Tharoor travelling in Business class is helping the struggling Airline sector...pumping in required mullah to save some jobs.... an unseen charity...isnt it....uhh...

But all theses Hypocrite politicians ... god!!!...damn them....!!!

Art and Lie

I deemed
in everything beautiful.

I saw the dust trough the sun
and I notice the glitter.
I saw the eyes,
so damp and vague
and felt the beauty in tears.
I saw him,
in tattered clothes, ragged self,
and his misery seems so dear.

Art, a lie;
It can't show me the real.
Art, a facade,
Now I want to unhide the rear.

Lost the Rhyme

A line runs through me,
connects me, unplugs me too;
and I, like a past record
beat up and sing through.
What is this line?
What's this dim shine?

What am I?

What are you?

Lost in self,
we walk together.
You dont see me in my eyes.
And I know, I will always look up to you,
into those shinning gem like eyes,
as long as you hide from mine.

I know I have stumbled and broken it,
that something that wasn't mine,
and I recollect that it was yours;
wasn't it?

And as I reread above,
I feel as a novice;
I have lost the words,
but that would have been okay,
worst is I have also lost the rhyme.....

Ooooohh!! I have lost the rhyme.

Comatose

Words break,
I hear the snap;
Vision blurs,
and I see the vague.
I smell
my breath,
babbling my own words;
Thirst binds throat,
Loosen up veins.
Heart loudly shouts,
but intermittently.
and it feels like
a quagmire eats me.
Sleep is inducing my senses.
keeping bound,
behind the fences.

But something liberating
in loosing up everything;
world lost but life blown in
as comatose win.

The Burden of Fate

The eyes closing with increasing crease on forehead;
The heart beats faster and every breath was spent
on futile attempts to move forward the cart.
The tethers tightened over shoulder with pain of piercing dart.

It moved a bit under the May-Sun;
The heat making the load, heavier by a ton.
Sweat dripped like a thatched roof leaking in monsoons;
Sweltering under his own courage, the man droops.

The muscles contracted in a rhythm;
The body was weak and febrile.
Teeth clashed violently and lips parted;
The despondent face gave a virtual feeble smile.

Two old hands supported the cart’s end;
A weak arc back was acutely bent.
His grey hair was perfect companion for his gloomy eyes;
His sweaty palms lacked the strength that will suffice.

The old man had no future ahead,
Only an abysmal past;
After fording many fierce streams,
still had to cross an ocean so vast.

“Oh! Just a little bit more and then we are through the steep”
Shouted the old man; standing bare feet on the burning concrete.
The legs moved again, the wheels rolled a bit more,
but still the languid bodies have no leisure to afford.

The man pulled the burden of his youth;
The old man pushed the burden of his past;
for the gargantuan load of their lives was
getting heavier by every moment so aghast.


It was May in Lucknow, and it really gets hot there at this time. A young man along with a pretty old guy (may be his grand father) was trying to pull up a over loaded cart under the merciless, boiling sun.The struggle in pulling up the cart, specially of that Old fellow who is pushig the cart from back with all strength is evidence of the failure of the social system in this world.

Success is not a destination; but a lifelong journey !!!!!

Two more steps,
And I will touch my goal;
The journey has finally ended,
No more sojourns.
There is no wait left.
I just need to push open the doors.
No more guessing of what’s in the store.

The fate has raised the curtain,
Finally I am there.
The goosebump die out;
killing the “Low Confidence” sound.

I won; and I remind myself “I will be” statement.
The sweat taste sweet now, the sweat bear scent.
I am through.

And they who love me
Pump their fist.
This is a triumph of their belief,
Testimony is their eye’s mist.
They hug and celebrate;
Laugh in an animated state.

As they exult in my approach to the goal;
My sense is caught with…….

The milestones left behind;
The dust of the road side;
The broken bridge that I mended;
The quagmire where I was stranded;
The little hand that shove me out,
The pretty voice pepping me before every bout;
The wrong-directions sign posts;
The sore thumbs and broken bones;
The rising up after every fall;
Every inch that I had to crawl;

I think of the complete journey,
Every lesson; all the learning;

All the chasms that engulfed me
But spitted out as someone better

I recollected and realized; this journey is my win.
The END; it doesn’t really matter.