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The Cage of Comfort ~

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Out of all the cages
I escaped,
His eyes
was the toughest.

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चार दीन में बंदे पैर काट रहें है ।
हम तो
बरसो सें यही जिंदगी जी रहें है ।

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There are many hearts,
that I visit ,
eighter to make a room ,
or to find silence .
But I always return back to myself,
For that's where sweetness lies.

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IDLE HANDS ARE THE DEVIL'S TOOL...

In the heat of the moment...
She played the violin...
Even the melodious music stirred her heart...
She was a free bird...flying high in the sky...
With full of people close to her...
She did not imagine of people around
could ever cut her wings...
With no chaos...
She was very happy...
Even the Universe would bow
down in front of her...
India has completed 74 years
of independence,
But, still a dupatta decides
her character...
Isn't she mentally caged...?
Isn't she physically caged...?
From ages, always in the cages...
And now, Even my pen is
feeling shy to write on.....

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That little yellow bird
wants to fly high.
Touching, piercing
the hues of sapphires,
reaches my soul
to ask me questions.

Why do I always
decorate the cages
of you humans?
Why do I not get
a life you all do?

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There are too many cages,
but not too many wings that
fight for their share of the sky.

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i cup every inch of moonlight
that the night has to offer.
i allow her light
to bounce off the lines
of my fingers,
but never out of the curves
that try to make to hold her light
close enough, not to call
the moonlight "mine",
but to show, that
a 'she' knows
to shine, beyond what
tries to cage her.

i see the side of my hands,
drip with light,
and i smile.
i know, cages don't
contain what she is born,
to create.

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