The strongest of hands makes most fragile things,
That maybe sand castles, earthen pots or guitar strings.
They create the most stunning and pleasing articles,
We only see the outcome but not overcame obstacles.
It is said hard work payoffs but not in their case.
Even after putting lots of efforts, financial crisis, they have to face.
We bargain with them just for a little amount of money;
Calling them cheaters, we never understand their agony!
They don’t work for luxuries or buying useless expensive material.
They work for filling stomachs and having single apparel.
Their children, ruining childhood, busy helping parents;
From working at tea stalls to construction sites, adopting different errands!
Their ancestors have lived in poverty and descendants will.
This way generations and generations, cancer of poverty will kill!
Fake promises and pretentious condolences come as hope every five years.
Weak shoulders bend a little more being heavyweight bearers!
They too are humans but are detained from human rights;
To abolish the darkness of our world, they sacrifice their lights.
The smile on your face that the glass bangles brings.
The strongest of hands makes most fragile things!-
जो तुम हो वो मैं नहीं।
Not achieved anything yet, to flaunt about.
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I am walking on a road which leads nowhere.
Just like an unceasingly flying bird, on the horizon, I stare.
The end of the road, the destiny is not in my sight,
In search of it, I keep walking lit day and dark night.
Though I am tired and my legs are paining,
I don’t sit for a while may it be scorching heat or raining.
As for it, I have crossed seven seas, dense forests and high hills;
Destiny’s ignorance towards me kills!
I remember the day when I left my home,
At that time, I didn’t value the always protecting dome.
Those comforting four walls seemed barriers to me.
Now I know the disquiets of a wanderer, to be.
I am not lost I know this, but I am in the middle of the ocean;
From where, for every direction, I have same emotion.
Move ahead or step behind are the only options.
But staying still is not on the list of things for adoption!
Maybe the destiny is the end of me but not of the road.
It is merely an axis around which, is based my life’s ode.
With eyes wide open into the boundless vacant space, I glare.
I am walking on a road which leads nowhere!-
A RAPIST is a RAPIST!
Neither HINDU nor MUSLIM!
Neither a JUVENILE nor an ADULT!
He has neither read GEETA nor QURAN!
And is not at all a HUMAN!!-
To fight death, one has to live.
Above all the inevitable fears, one has to believe.
Hope is the most, powerful weapon against the death.
It has the ability even to change the fate!
But why to fight death, it is not evil.
It comes, from the brutal life, for our retrieval!
Just like a demon, it will consume you.
A bitter truth it is understood by very few.
Its arrival never takes a hold, on us but acquit.
Sometimes it comes on its own sometimes we call it.
Mostly it is painful, not for us, but for others.
It’s a onetime event, following which nothing bothers!
Death isn’t a problem to fight but a solution.
It’s not the end of life but the living’s resolution!
Life is a journey, but death is the home.
Life is just four walls, but death is the dome.
Life always asks us to change to fit into its expectation.
But death accepts us the way we are by execution.
It loves us wholeheartedly that it waits so long;
It’s, so beautiful still, we sing life's song!-
Sometimes it seems the universe wants to be noticed!
It wants to grab our attention and show life’s motive.
The birds flying and covering vast sky through tiny wings.
After autumn's departure, there is always arrival of spring!
But we humans are so busy flaunting material things,
That we never discern the happiness nature brings.
We see the sun at morning and the moon at night.
So idiotic of us that we call, beautiful the moon's fake light!
We are so selfish that we wish when a star shoots;
Feel the pain of moon losing a friend, just step into his boots!
We pluck flowers to gift them to our loved one.
All the struggles and hard work of plant to grow that beauty, we shun!
Hunting the animals, for skin for horns for teeth.
Stop cutting trees you morons, or it will be difficult even to breathe.
We cage the birds, breaking their wings and teaching them to walk.
Being proud of our foolishness and calling it wisdom's talk!
We look at this universe through our naked eyes but never observed,
That how much it serves us and asks nothing but to be preserved.
Just one step of ours can bring a big change.
All the chaos we have created let's try to rearrange!-
Use a hashtag, and it will become a revolution.
Tweet about an issue, and it will be considered its solution.
Posting poor people’s photos on Facebook will abolish poverty.
Amateurish on Quora are satisfying others curiosity.
This is what is happening right now in our country.
Fourteen-year-olds talking like sixty’s bluntly!
People are copiously using their right to speak,
It has become a trend of everywhere putting the beak.
Social networks have become an addiction to everyone,
Where discussions, by pseudo activists on social issues are done.
Casteism, feminism, and communalism are what they talk about!
Government and politics are their all-time clout.
Nobody is ready to bring a true reform in the nation!
Everyone is busy criticizing others in Insta’s caption.
It’s indispensable maintaining a snap chat streak.
In reality, no one has time to lend an ear to someone’s shriek.
Comments they give for publicity stunts which are pablum.
No genuine solution, for today’s enormous problems.
The influence of internet is dancing over our head,
Because of technology we all have become living dead!-
Mr Money,
I am hungry because, when I ask for food they ask for you. My father works day and night but is not able to send me school. Because when I ask for books, they ask for more of you. You force my mother to go and wash utensils in others houses. My brother never lived his childhood because he was busy helping maa and baba in earning you. My sister is not getting married because they ask for so much amount of you, and we cannot afford it. I don’t want expensive clothes or luxuries like those rich kids. I just want 2 chappatis in my plate and a piece of cloth on my body. Yes, we are poor but the fact is we are not scared of losing you as we don’t have you. The thing which makes me happy is that my happiness doesn’t depend on you. It’s completely mine and only mine.
Thank you for not being mine!
Never yours,
A poor kid.-
They are selfish animals those who write about themselves and call it POETRY.
True poet is the one who pens down others pain and call it HUMANITY!
-
She finds happiness in small-small things;
Always playful are her heart’s strings!
Legs fouled by shingle, eyes wishing for the sky,
Her happy face always hides her teary cry.
She is a little angel but not with a magic wand,
She doesn’t wear white but clothes stained by sand.
Her bright eyes shine more than the North Star,
Being so little, she is a master in hiding the scars.
Naked eyes cannot see her pain.
Because she always shows the rainbow, never the rain!
Her laughs are the most melodious songs.
Being innocent she has been blamed for the wrongs.
She loves everyone equally, being uneducated,
Always her talent has been underestimated.
Her family cannot manage to fill her stomach two times a day;
In complain, a single word, she never says.
She doesn’t want anything from all of us,
It’s our mortality to provide her love and care just.
If you find her any day on your street,
Never forget that she deserves, from you, a treat!-