Who am I!

Some address me as an epitome of arrogance;

Some criticise me as a loser;

My own mom called me a fiasco;

Many school and college mates just saw me as a misfit;

Some friends name me a simple and humble soul;

A friend keeps saying, “you are too poetic to live with”;

Another friend keeps saying, “you are too idealist to live in reality”;

Two men I fell in love with said and left, “you are too pure to meddle with”;

My relatives pity me as a misfortunate:

As I rejected many grooms,

Who offered financially and socially secure life!

But, I myself wonder:

Why am I this way?

Why can’t I fit myself in the mould?

What am I proving?

Who am I proving to?

How far will this go?

Who am I?

Lingering Questions from Frankenstein (2025)

Aren't we all prey to Victors' greed and pride?

Didn't generations of Victors set the pattern 

Of unending loop of merciless survival?

How are we taking pride in procreation

Without the accountability to protect the innocence?

Why do we need to run behind the herd 

In the fear of failing and dying?

Who created this mass measuring social yardstick? 

Who told us that we are higher in hierarchy?

Didn't the sky shine and rain for every living organisms?

Did we take consent from the planet to use their resources?

Aren't we abusing those resources beyond our needs?

Did I ask to be born in this world?

Or did I sign up for this mortal agony?

Do I have a choice not to participate in this social mockery?

Turtle's Pace is Wise

Indeed, timelessness is my strategy

Never ever have the sense of a time limit

Pacing at my heart's content

Is my style of living!

The world around me panics

And runs in the race

Batch by batch runs passing me

I never ever even tried reaching the track,

Nothing ever rushes me yet

Is it wrong to be stuck looking up the sky?

Or Is it wrong to talk to a tree?

Or is it wrong to be stuck thinking about nothing?

Or is it wrong to plan a trip every day to nowhere?

But I have been enjoying them...

Never regretting the single moment passed away,

Maybe one or two stupid deeds of mine were wrong

But what is the right way?

Is there a rule book to live a life?

Are the social norms and terms right?

Harm not any living being,

Appreciate every odd that exists on this planet,

Give away as much as you can,

Regret not for any act of love,

Are the rules I follow to live!

Instinct is my compass

Emotions and senses guide through

The unknown path I walk

All I care about is today

Believing that's all I have with me…

Let the world work on deadlines and targets,

My little world always has shine and rain in store

To keep me awestruck beyond the timeline!

 

The Story of a Vulnerable Vulture

A vulture everyday visits a dark woods,

To decipher the mystery of the forest,

He never tries to enter once, 

Sits for years to pull the courage,

He scares to his bones to try all alone, 

He witnessed none entering alone,

Many birds chirp around him,

In the wide-spread meadow

Lies before the forest...

Every bird thinks he sits there to scare them away;

He cares too less about the birds

Flock in the meadows;

He wonders if any bird joins him to enter,

He has seen many pairs of birds fly in and fade away,

But as years pass, the pairs have been reduced,

Or even interested in the woods, 

They are timid and temporary...

The vulture dares none but beholds the beauty 

Of the crooked and complicated darkness inside the woods!

A few years ago he wasn't a vulture,
He was a beautiful peacock,
With pride and power,
A bird took him to the meadows
And showed him the forest,
As he was dreaming to explore the forest with her,
She took another bird and flew pass over him,
Into the woods!
Now the peacock lost its scherzo,
Plummeted to a vulture,
Withered all his colorful plumage...
Wore strong and cruel outlook,
He dares to harm a living being,
There he perches hiding all his vulnerability,
With the hope of entering the forest,
He can never be one among the flock,
Having fun at the meadows...
He is one of a kind -
Believes the forest holds better life!

Music Moves Me

A young chirpy charming nightingale,

Strings a tune on guitar

Sings in a sonorous voice:

OMG! I am in sheer bliss!
Almost after a decade...

The act reminds me so many purple moments,
Though in grey shades...

Where does the muse lie?

Where does the music flow from?

Mystery to my stupid brain!

Jealous of those who crack,

No wonder, harmony lies in their nerve:

Notes, lyrics, chords and vocal chords

Blend in perfecto - Awestruck - 

My core hits the zenith - I wish to die -

This world is enough for the joy of a song!

The ultimatum of life lives in music,

Music touches the darkest recesses:
Of my irrational senses and emotions,

Where I dare to explore...

It communicates so deep,

It puts me in order,

It lulls me to sleep, 

It makes me smile,

I am so grateful to the nightingale 

For the beautiful five-minute private concert!

The Hero

A blaze ignited illegitimately,

Purer kind yet wilder,

Elegance in every sense,

Unpredictable and unconditional,

A perfect blend of Angel and Demon!

Men of his kind is very rare,

None stands against him with dare,

He rips the heads off in a wink,

Just for sport…

The world swirls under his foot,

In fear and terror.

The irony lies in the values he upholds:

He was annealed and hammered,

On and on, for the sin he knows not,

Placing family above all,

For the family he never belongs,

Loves brothers and sisters relentlessly,

Even after Knowing,

Everyone of them wants him dead!

The wonder lies in the way he loves:

Old-school type of sufferer in silence,

Inexpressible emotions flood in the tiny smile,

An artist of words and colours,

Sweeps away with an upright behaviour,

Never expects even a grain in return,

He loves with so much intensity,

UNCONDITIONAL in every way!

Is Life Light or Heavy?

There are numerous ways out,

But the heart chooses to be entrapped
In those walls of memories;

 Always dangling amidst extremes,

Being isolated from everything,

Yet, plunging impulsively on momentary pleasures, 

There is no question of tomorrow,

Terribly trapped in today,

Feeling the fire of freedom, 

Yet imprisoned in the aesthetics of life,

Fetching frenzy from depression,

Dwelling in dreary darkness, 

Bearing 'the unbearable lightness',

Hoping the 'eternal heaviness' 

Will reveal the purpose and reasons!

Cerberus Inside

Deep down a daring Cerberus,

With three heads,

With three thoughts,

With three visions,

As inner id, esteemed self and aspiring artist,

Is roaring in endless conflicts,

Is also groaning in a pain of suppresion,

Know not the day they burst out to burn the whole;

They keep on growling with each other,

Day by day the helplessness of mundane living,

Makes them grow deeper and stronger...

The aspiring artist grows more aggressive,

Than the inner id and esteemed self;

Artist flares up with thousand sensible reasons,

The other two always end up in pointless arguments;

Unfortunately, the mundane reality chains them all down,

With the helplessness.

Contrastingly, the Cerberus is waiting for Orpheus' lyre here,

To harmonize and lull it to sleep,

Rather than chained by cruelty of reality;

Loyalty and obedience can sometimes tie, 

Even the daring spirit of dragon with a tiny chain, 

From its own salvation!

 

 

  

Titanic

A vessel of shimmering pride:

A man-made wonder,

Floated on Atlantic,

Made a legendary mark in the time,

Built by and with only men power,

With no automation!

Still an invincible craftsmanship of its kind,

Hundred years of evolution of automations,

Tried not to challenge its peerless beauty

Even beyond its tragic massacre.

 

The experience of living and dying

In Titanic is recreated,

As a virtual and visual magic;

It reminds the magnificence,

To a few who forgot,

And it sheds light on the faded fact,

Of the massive grandeur,

To too many who unaware.

The fascinating fact is refurbished,

With an everlasting love story.

However, in the end,

The fact is faded,

Familiar only to researchers as technical data,

The artistic effort of visual beauty

Made the world wonderstruck,

As Sidney, Yeats, Keats,

And many artists believe:

Art is a higher and deeper level of truth,

Beyond the time-bound reality of immediacy,

Art-beautified facts are infused in eternity!