Home
At times, I find myself reminiscing
about the home of my childhood;
That veranda where my mom
comforted my holi fears;
That bed where I didnтАЩt sleep
during my exam days;
That garden where my papa walked me
on his lap through woods;
That room where I found myself smiling;
That table where my heart inked
that goodbye letter.
But why am I unable to picture that home?
Maybe I long for a home that truly never existed.
Or the definition of home is conflicting?
Is it the place or the people?
Why we seek solace in people?
And wherever we find that space,
we just belong.-
Either life is a mess
Or you will find someone to make it one
Either life is smooth and settled
Or you will have to make it one.ЁЯТк-
рд╕рдлрд╝рд░ рдореЗ рдЕрдХреЗрд▓реЗ рд░рд╛рд╣ рддрд▓рд╛рд╢ рд░рд╣реА рдереА ,
рдкрд░ рдлрд╝рд┐рд░ рдХреЛрдИ рдирдпрд╛ рд╕рдлрд╝рд░рдирд╛рдорд╛ рд▓рд┐рдП рдЖ рдЧрдпрд╛ред-
YOU FELT IT !
Some days,
it beats faster
Some days,
it stops
Some days,
it becomes restless
And some days,
this world looks beautiful even
with thousands of flaws..-
Why these days, this clock is ticking so high?
In a room full of peace
Someone is breaking the ice
With its increasing ticking sound
It is making me realise-
Something is passing by
At its highest pace
Left me surrounded with the memories
That once used to be childishness of mine.
Why these days, this clock is ticking so high?
(continued..)-
рдЙрд╕рдиреЗ рдЫреБрдЖ рдерд╛ рдЕрдкрдиреА рдкреНрдпрд╛рд╕ рдмрдврд╝рд╛рдХрд░,
рддреВ рд░реЛрдИ рдереА рдЙрд╕рдХреЗ рджрд░рд┐рджреНрд░рддрд╛ рдХрд╛ рд░реВрдк рджреЗрдЦрдХрд░,
рдЙрд╕рдХреА рдкреНрдпрд╛рд╕ рдлрд┐рд░ рднреА рди рдмреБрдЭреА,
рдкрд░ рддреЗрд░реА рдЖрддреНрдорд╛ рд░реЛрдИ рдереА
рдореЗрд░реЗ рд░реВрд╣ рд╕реЗ рдирд┐рдкрдЯрдХрд░ред
рд╕рдлрд░ рд╕реЗ рдЗрд╢реНрдХ рд╣реБрдЖ рдХрд░рддрд╛ рдерд╛ рдХрднреА,
рдЙрд╕ рд╕рдлрд░ рд╕реЗ рдкрд╣рд▓реЗред
рдЙрд╕ рд╕рдлрд░ рдХреЗ рдмрд╛рдж ,
рд╕рдлрд░ рдХрд░рдиреЗ рдХрд╛ рдореМрдХрд╛,
рд╕рдлрд░ рдЫреАрди рдЪреБрдХрд╛ рдерд╛ред
-
In a place full of wars
I am holding the list of all your scars
Given by those storms passing by
Just like its mine.
I want to fill ink in spaces
between the words of your poetry
With the name of that happiness
Who is craving for you so high!
-
I want to reach my destination,
a little late,
By humming a song whole way-
Thought of writing with my left hand
And suddenly realized :
"The value of practice that an one day dedication can never fulfill,
And what shivering is without really
having a stage fear "-
Sometimes its not only the moon ЁЯМЩ
That makes sky beautiful
But also the blinking stars ЁЯМЯ
That makes a lie peaceful-