A Good Sleep.

We rise, each day with hopes of crossing a new mountain and then we fall by the sunset along the shores of struggle. Someday we ask ourselves, is it worth it? Deep down we know it is, since otherwise we wouldn't be living.

Strike 1: Insomnia

Another night, a few more bytes and an image
A laptop, a wooden chair and a mahogany table
A near full water bottle stands alone like a candle
Streetlamps smile in the glory of their shadows.

At the stroke of midnight I woke up, realizing the air was too cold. Anticipations for a smiling princess lead me to break my sacred vow.

Strike 2: Sleep

A soft bed with a silk cover, a tough pillow;
Eyelids closed, dreams arrive and disappear
How time zones dictate the worlds, far and near!
 One for the records is becoming crystal-clear!

Strike 3: Waking up

Restless arms of time sound the alarm;
The frozen eyes sniff the familiar room:
Rotating blades and illuminated windows
Wake up, they say, the bus is here.

A Night Diary.

Nights paint in silence,
They paint in the gloom of sepia
They speak of hidden colours,
Hidden, deliberately within dark lanes.

A night deals in shadows,
It plays in the presence of past and future
The silence reeks of miscalculations
The ghosts roam in the winds of desire.

 

A River Tale.

A river flows by my garden. A not so famous river, it still holds its place where it should. It doesn't get visitors from all corners of the world but I do pay my visit everyday. I grew up under its tenderness. But so did several others. I wonder where they are! They must be quite busy. In a way I like it. May be the river misses them all but I cannot account for everyone.
The mysteries of nature have such deep philosophies imprinted on them. What is there that I can do for this river which always provides me with so much? I don't feel helpless. I have learned my limitations.

Some people can just give so much to you that whatever you do for them, you'll never feel that you've done enough. It's not your fault. It's just their greatness. The best you can do is never leaving their side.

So my river and me stare at each other. The only sound comes from the flowing water.

Finding Neverland

Don't we all have our own Neverlands?


Snow flakes gather on my feet
As I stand on the border of Neverland
My skin, torn and dry still fights
I see no one around but a window, broken.

I peek through it, warmth I seek,
All I receive in response is darkness
Should I break through as a burglar would?
Should I remain calm and hold my ground?

The fast approaching evening haunts
I need to start a fire, this numbness taunts
The woods nearby have started the chorus
 Should I still wait or own the mystery-house?

Goodbye Sky.

A carnival of clouds makes way
For the monsoon child
As my window panes bathe
In an invisible sunrise;
Singing my own song
In a restless paradise
I hum your name, once again
Mesmerized by Anuva's Sky.

In a life sewed with scattered smiles
Cautious dreams look for light;
Measured silence weighs heavy at times
And emotions dissolve in a lake of wine.
Reasons succumb to soul-searching eyes
A few more words might ruin the night.