DISILLUSIONMENT, TOWARDS REALITY...

For some certain reasons, MANAN CHAUDHARY, you inspired me to write this... :-)

Ah! Sweet illusions…

An illusion it was,

the world of bourgeoisie,

with its blinding glitters,

echoing trumpets,

in stately mansions.

A tomorrow, anticipated,

unfolded into the ghastly moment,

and the mask fell off.

He was disgusted, pained,

as soon as he could register

the blood soaked thorns.

Hopes, companions, life;

wasted, left behind,

all for this medley of pseudo-friends?

Free flowing Madeira,

A concoction of Cocaine –

It was never what he wanted,

what he toiled for!

Still he was forced

to burn (and drown!)

in what is considered a ‘prize’ –

only for the winners.

My friend! How I wish

I could help you see,

their parameters of freedom – so different –

Aphrodisiacs,

that arouse and take you to heavens,

only to throw you back, dizzy,

into the darkness.

I can see you stumble;

my hand reaches out,

but I won’t catch you,

because, once you fall,

bruise, and get up,

you will be where I am –

This cold castle,

mending its broken walls,

lighting the darkened nooks,

loving the poverty,

the half filled cups of mead,

and bread sans butter.

We, both,

were born in a home of love,

not a palace of ambitions,

with lullabies of caresses,

not the tinkling of currency,

This want is yet not as appalling

as the rich prospects

of a hollow soul!

Critique awaited! :-)

From Papa... to Father!

Papa,

Forgive me, but

When did you decide to be my ‘father’,

With your political correctness

And unending prior engagements??

Why aren’t you my hero now?

Then, won’t you listen to what

I have to say?

Keep your prejudices aside and

Look at the world that I see?

Won’t you shake your head, and

Take a step back,

And acknowledge my proud grin

As reasonable?

I may be wrong,

But you are not right, not at all,

And we both know that!

I am left dangling, uncertain;

My one self rooted, obliged

To not let you down,

The other, thrashing

Against your rules,

Yearning for the world unknown –

That beats the drum

And shouts out to me.

I might as well sit down here

And claim the threshold,

While my two minds fight,

And wait with silent dread

For the impending estrangement.

I know there isn't a lot of vocabulary in this one, but it has a lot to do with emotions. Let me know if u like it, and yes, even if u don't!!

AH! PROMISES..

When, sitting in college, I got frustrated at the immediate loneliness and anonymity, I wrote it for my school friends… If only I could ever grow out of them!

I know I should move on,

I promised you, I know;

And I have tried to blend in here...

Nothing seems to work, though.

At times like these, when we people sit

And smile and charm our ways through,

Some words, some melodies trigger off

The locked up memories of you.

I seem to go in a trance,

And you are again with me.

We laugh, we sigh; my dreams

Take over my reality.

The people here call my name,

Beginning to like my company.

But I steal a few moments for you…

I never promised myself, you see!

My blind God

Okay.... this one came out in a few moments of  extreme anguish and pain, when i wanted to call up many people and let me tell all the pretty and good stuff about myself. But i abstained, only because i want to test the strength of my heart, to the tests taken by God. Moreover, i did not wnt to act like a constant nagging presence in their lives, so.. yaeh..

MY BLIND GOD

O tears mine, on the verge, stop!

You shall not show, not now;

Let me grow cold, blind, deaf,

Then they may go on explaining, somehow.

Whatever became of my efforts,

my talent and perseverance?

Humbug, that! The choice was made.

The duel? A mere pretense…

Oh! Go on now! Try,

Console me however you can.

But no smile shall appear hither…

Dejection, too, becomes a man.

Break down I will, but only

In front of the plain mirror.

My salt-mingled, bitter cries

Are only for the God to hear.

A gnash it is to my being; used

As I am to acceptance, fair.

Lord! Pray, tell, why change your ways?

For I now belong nowhere.

Your own men are devils now,

Ripping souls and grabbing their fills.

I shall search for a flicker of light,

Hah! My God shall go on blind still!

If God was just, he would let me come out. But he is burying my talent, still deep and deeper inside. Enclosed, captivated in a whole, open, endless world; walking blindly without a path, that is how I feel right now. Sometimes I wonder if shouting and screaming would do me any good… Yes, yes it would! It would give me the relief of venting out the fumes of His injustice, that have been clogging up my insides. And I would never want to tell this to the people who mean the most to me. My weaknesses (oh! So many) I want to hide this time. There is no reason for it, no ‘because’. And I promise, I would never kneel to His will of my non-existence.

The Ribbon

Okay! This is a poem i wrote when i was stressed due to the ongoing mathematics examination... i had tied up my hair in a ribbon, which gave me this idea.. i hope you like it. Suggestions are welcome..!

The ribbon,
silky, red and gold,
was her favourite, even then.
She used it to tie her long, wavy hair,
adding other ribbons
to match her dresses.
Then one day, suddenly,
she grew too mature to care
about a little ribbon,
when she heard a strange sound,
that of her own heart--
how it became unsteady,
(or so it seemed)
when he looked at her!
Now, lost in his thoughts,
she tied and untied the ribbon
around her fingers,
unconsciously,
gazing at something hidden behind the winds...

That day, when they met under the tree,
the ribbon held her curls loosely.
Heuntied it softly, saying
he liked her hair loose better,
and tied it, a flower,
on her ring finger.
It became her way too,
whether it matched her dresses, or not.

The ribbon is still there,
threads loosening at the ends,
holding his letters to her together;
the letters,
from promising his eternal love,
to complaining about the weather,
and finally stating that it was all over;
not a dream, bot a reality
they had revelled in for too long...

The ribbon is old,
but it still has the power
to move her to tears,
to make her try hard
to smother her sobs
in the orders of her mother
in the porch, to the servants,
to make all things perfect

for her wedding.

What a regular girl faces...

"Jai Shri Krishna," came the chants from one loudspeaker.
It was Janamashtami, the day we Hindus celebrate as the birthday of Lord Krishna. I was fasting to celebrate this day in a traditional way, having prepared already the sweets which were to be offered to Kanha at midnight. Since a fast is never really complete without a visit to a temple, my dad had decided to take me and my brother to Baba Dham temple in my hometown itself. So, here i was, outside the temple, my feet bare on the cool mud, struggling to stand still in the milling crowd that was determined to give me not even a square foot of ground to stand upon. "Radhe Radhe....," people were greeting each other. And i was still wondering how, if possible at all, i was ever going to get in....
Gathering my courage, i ventured inside, my dad continously looking back to assure my safety. I felt no need to watch where i had to go -- the crowd took me with it on its own accord, like a tide of devotion of Krishna's love. The idol of Shri Krishna was so majestically decorated that I could not help being awed at His beauty. The whole experience was delightful!
Having offered my prayers to the Lord, it was now a challenge for me and my brother to come out of the temple gate without getting our feet trampled on. This was where the ugly part crept in. There were so many guys at the place, which, of course, is not unusual. But the deliberate torture they inflict on the female species of our race is definitely reckless! I mean, they were practically falling on me from all directions  -- yes, i know it was crowded there, but one could actually see many of them smirking shamelessly! -- and I felt disgusted! My dad was a few steps ahead of me, and frankly, telling him of my discomfort specifically-which he obviously did sense- would have led to a public fight. And i know that any girl would hate that.
But I could not help thinking of this peculiar behaviour of some males. And I wondered what Lord Krishna must feel when he sees these low mentality people harrass innocent girls in such a way. I suddenly shudder at the thought of what any normal girl is prone to, at any given day.
I do not even know if there is an alternative or a possible solution to this deep, yet lurking problem. All i can do is to hope not to face any form of sexual harrassment ever. I want to take pride in my femininity, and not be ashamed of it, or afraid of it being a burden on my soul...