Soft Weak Lotus


Nature talks highly of lotus
For how strong it stands above the mud.
It blooms with a beautiful pink over it
Sweeping beneath instead, the green dirt.

Of pain, the thud,
Conveniently sinks under the dumb water
Who highly speaks of lotus
For how swift it stands above and rut.

The stems, when cut,
Leave for it no choice but die;
The leaves still think of lotus
As the soft weak soul that above lie.

-

All's sweet and cozy.
The goodness of mangoes are turning days
The rain seeps through, in between the toes
And the mundane Mondays are blue baes.

But when the sun goes down,
And the birds chirp once again.
The fan is in its serene rhythm,
And the folded legs still, over the bed,
momentum gains.

I miss you then.

-

So I let my happiness scream.

//Read in Caption

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Sweet Dead Wife


There came an end,
The beginning beheld the life.
The end lived lifeless
fueled with breathing memories;
The beginning was the husband
looking after his sweet dead wife.

-

My Chair And I


With my back hunched
I sat on the side of the ocean;
my soul felt floating between the water
and the wetness left behind by the waves on the sand.

My skeleton pulled a chair for sophistication
that the world sought from its owning flesh
made it wonder if nature calls for it too.

It does.
It seemed so.

Surrounded by water, it felt safe to be scared.
For I had lost my soul deep somewhere, far infact,
playing with the boundaries of the undiscovered soil
covered sweetly by the ocean like a blanket over it.

My chair and I drew a picture.
The picture lies blank in my mind ever since.
I thus found where I go when my brain shuts off.
It swims in the bluntness of clarity.

-

Blunt Beak


Anger, did someone hurt you?
Did happiness exclude you from a group discussion
Or a girl slapped you on the face as soon as you appeared?

Did you drive the car on the wrong side of the road,
Were you too loud, too quiet or too narrow to understand yourself?

Did you plan on your appearance
Were you aware?

Aware.

I was sad yesterday about a missed opportunity I could have gropped,
Like the man who gropped me on the bus when I was 14.

I missed your presence then.
I hoped, anger, you would come and save me.
I hoped you would say something, drag and punch.
Instead you lied with a back, hunched.

Anger, why are you so soft, dull and weak?
Did someone hurt you
Or were your children left unfed because fear took the food off your beak?

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Describe What He Was Like


His eyes, sometimes hazel, mostly green;
A glimpse into the future,
Ah! A peek of my ending years of teen.

He cuddled my thoughts with his sweet words;
All okay? If not, it will be.
And then somehow the bruise melted the hurting swords.

The walk?
We lazy creatures laid next to eachother.
So close, our hearts held hands;
The invisible stars embedded in
the nerves of my rubber band.

He was like the greenest leaf,
That nevertheless fell on the ground, in coil.
I wish, since then, I was the soil.

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Man Nhi Karta


Ghar jaane ka man nhi karta
Agar chale jao toh aane ka man nhi karta
Uss oor shayad kheech jaati lakeeren soch
Iss lakeeron ko bigaadne ka man nhi karta

Sawaarne ka man nhi karta,
Woh sawar jaye toh thik warna
Sudharne ka man nhi karta

Jo pehle thi woh wapas ajaye
Aisa bol peeche mudne ka man nhi karta
Ghar jo billak kar awaaz lagaye
Usse ansuna chorne ka man nhi karta

Kyunki agar ghar chale jao,
Toh wapas aane ka man nhi karta.

-

I Need My Mother



One day I woke up
And I needed my mother no more.
I could tie my shoes
I could wash my hair
I could read, write and pronounce the word 'bear'.

In theory, I needed my mother no more.

Yet after every afternoon nap,
My eyes seek for her.
I come home and the urge to look
for my mother overcomes the hour.

Time is still when I need my mother
It makes sure she isn't there.

I thought, I needed my mother no more.

Yet I mess up the only recipe I know
I washed my clothes on the wrong settings
I slipped a few words and now that friend doesn't talk to me
I peeled my oranges and it wasn't as per my liking.

Her absence disguise itself so well
I skip and turn and never comeback
I circle unknowingly and stop where I started
I feel I go further backwards
No sense of direction as if ever carted.

I needed my mother more than ever.

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A Sick Home


It's enough.

I want to wrap my arms around my house back home,
Where my nani used to live;
I wish for such long arms.

I could whisper through the window
Like the sweet little giant that I am
I hope I could tell the house that you lost the core lap.

For years which has held four people and
infinite guests in and out
Every corner still mourns the comfort and rout.

I wish I could hug the house back in my hometown.

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