Saturday, August 9, 2014

What if?

Imagine if you were given a choice,
To read the story of your life.
Every detail, every inevitable circumstance,
With the condition that you can't change your fate.
Would you read it, and know how life will be for you,
Would you face the monotony?
Imagine if you knew the day you'll die,
And couldn't change it, too.
Would you rather enact your life,
The way written on your chapters,
Or would you let fate decide,
And follow blindly onwards.
Would you let each moment speak for itself,
Or would you live in a predicted future?
Would you rather live in the fear of predicted death,
Or would you be glad for another day to live?

The walk

She began her life with a cry,
She had a long way to go.
There was a path waiting to be threaded on,
That bore her name.
She started off, toddling on it,
Before she was 18 months old.
She found it special, for it had its thrill,
And an unknown destination.
The lovely child, that treaded on her little feet,
Was walking on the path of life, my dear.
There was no end, just a series of beginnings.
Sometimes she went slow, in dread or joy,
Either she savored the moment,
Or let it pass by.
Sometimes she had to run,
Sometimes they were narrow escapes,
Sometimes she faltered,
Sometimes she lost her way.
But all the time, she walked on time,
She walked through her life.
Youth turned to senility,
And her steps grew infirm.
And though she knew not where she headed,
She had to walk along.
Maybe there was an end, a destination,
But her journey ended before,
And somewhere in the middle,
She rested forever more.
It was before her final step,
It was before her final breath,
That she was given the satisfaction of knowing,
That the path itself was her goal,
That the walk she savored, the walk she dreaded,
Was what was meant for her.
She realized, that this was special, unique,
The path that bore her name.
This path that had been crossed by many more,
Was her very own, never to be treaded on again.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Together Again

Remember the day,
When we travelled in metaphors?
Others were speechless,
We were not.
We babbled stupidly for them, 
But we knew the truth inside.
Understanding, we call it now,
But for us it was a magical power,
Through which we read each others' meanings.
We were kids with childish thoughts,
And expressed ourselves irrationally,
But, our expressions weren't false,
They were simply metaphors,
Only we knew the truth inside.
Let's travel back in Time,
Let's travel through the metaphors again,
We'll unravel the truths again,
But this time, we'll do it together.

Monday, March 3, 2014

This Can't Be Goodbye

I walked the dusty road that led to the cottage,
It seemed like a decade had passed since I'd seen the place,
Yet truly it was but yesterday.
Still, yesterday seemed so distant,
And I tell of it, before my hazy gaze,
Shall fall when I last met him.
Near dusk, a trudging traveller,
Had come home at last to a cheery fire.
She had come to visit her grandpapa,
Who she'd longed to see many times before.
And there at dusk he sat with pipe in hand,
A soft whistle, a welcome sign was all that was heard.
He got up when she drew into sight, though he had grown feeble,
He hobbled on his feet with difficulty,
To meet the child he'd longed to see.
He knew he was not to live, life was counting its last days,
But love, dear love! Was what brought him to his feet,
And sent him blundering forth.
She caught his hand, held it firm,
And gave a cheery smile,
How dear he was! How could she ever say goodbye?

He trembled as they sat together
and talked into the growing dark.
She was light in his humble dwellings,
She was a breath of fresh air.
She talked with determination and hope,
And she thought a lot more,
So dear was her sweet grandfather,
She'd stay by his side forevermore.
Was fate playing a petty trick, or was it some noble blessing,
That his soul shall finally rest,
Amidst the trembling and quivering.
And now, Farewell! Oh Dearest soul!
Rest in Peace, you deserve it!
Bless you for your kindness,
You have left me forever indebted.
Take care, take care, in the angelic world you dreamt of,
Be happy as you always were.
Grandfather, this farewell, is all
You'll remain in hearts, so I shan't say Goodbye, after all.

Monday, February 17, 2014

A True Devotee

I could say that I believe in Shiva, Allah, Jesus,
And I dare say that saying so will not create a fuss,
Yet will I be right in doing so?
Till I haven't controlled my anger,
Till I don't stop being in a temper,
Till I don't feel humble in my heart,
Till the silliness of discrimination, I don't outsmart,
Till I don't follow and believe in equality,
Till I don't adopt serenity,
I cannot be believing in Shiva, Allah or Jesus,
And that may create a fuss,
But doing is believing, and devotion is believing,
And until I don't fulfil the cries of humanity,
I won't be believing.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

The Last Day

The Earth shook and shivered,

The lands trembled and quivered,
Earthquakes were common these days,
Just as the old prophecy says,
And whispers spread-the Earth dies,
Dies right in front of our eyes.
Grumbling, muttering clouds roll in the sky,
Even the Sun seems to be saying goodbye,
Shades of dark melancholy, enveloping everything,
And as the prophets had always been thinking,
And truly so-the Earth dies,
Dies right in front of our eyes.
Silence and dread of the nearing end prevail,
Every being sickly and pale,
And death, death only is in sight,
As the Earth fights its final fight.
And whispers spread- the Earth dies,
Dies right in front of our eyes.

Monday, January 13, 2014

A Battle Lost

In a cold place, and with colder heart,
In jumbled lanes, and jumbled lives,
In white, pristine white,
Too dark, too dark, oh, too dark,
With hearts too heavy, too grieved,
With guns too ready, a battle perceived.
A battle, not of kings and queens,
Nor of a display of power, of strength,
Nor one fought for religious ambition, 
Only a battle, Only a battle
Only a battle of life and death,
Of pain and sorrow,
Of grief and despair,
Only a battle, lost today.
The lingering, white world,
Only a battlefield,
Why worry, today,
We've lost, anyway.  

( Entry to Prompt of the Week )