Life of i

I never put the things i consider 'work' here, but this was something hopeful that i wrote after ages, and i guess there's nothing wrong with spreading a little hope as the new year begins...

Come mothers and fathers

Throughout the land

And don’t criticise

What you can’t understand

Your sons and your daughters

Are beyond your command

Your old road is

Rapidly agin’

Please get out of the new one

If you can’t lend your hand

For the times they are a-changin’.

So sang Bob Dylan in his 1964 hit song, The Times They Are a-Changin’. It is strange how, after all these years, the lyrics still reverberate through time. If one is to place these words in the context of India, the world’s largest democracy having the largest group of youngest people, it rings truer than any other nation. As the fear and hoopla around the Mayan prophesy passes, the old order gives way to a new age and one thing becomes clear — the future belongs to the youth. Information technology breakthroughs, innovative entrepreneurship, incubating startups — aren’t just accomplishments of the old and wise, the young guns of our country now continue to persevere in such fields. The internet, a phenomena mirroring the various possibilities of the future, has helped the GenNext erase boundaries of religion, caste, creed and colour and connect like never before. Painters, poets, new age artists playing around with digital codes and algorithms, continue to pour out their ideas, their thoughts — their very souls — on the worldwide web. Thanks to the same, people have come together, no matter how burdened the times may be. The conscience of the youth has awakened a fervent spirit in India and the youngsters know staying silent would be cowardice, so they are making their voices heard. Not surrendering to the rigid, iron will of those who don’t want to change, the youngsters have ensured the future shall not be quiet — it will comprise of voices speaking as one. Man may have affirmed his carbon footprint on the planet thousands of years ago, but now our digital footprints fill the landscape of our lives like a river making its way through time. There is, undoubtedly, a humbling feeling as we traverse through time, one where we tend to feel small and sometimes, a little uncertain. Letting go of anchors is never easy, as one is left to paddle aimless, but we have learnt to find our own way. The waves never rest and our little vessel traverses through troubled waters — a little shaken and stirred, learning important lessons, growing stronger and more aware of the tides and giving back what it can on the way. But never before have we felt so alive, never have we had such an ability to break old shackles and shape our lives to make them the one we always wanted to have. We have conquered unimaginable grief and now its time to break the mould and carve all the knowledge we have gained in the contour of tomorrows. And as our humanity strives forward, looking beyond the horizon, knowing it’s always dark before the coming of dawn, there are a few lines we can go forth with:

Flower wither not

Brave the flames of the sun

Take the spears of the rain

Spread your roots and shine.

The Debt

What debt must we repay with our own flesh

To you, who lurks in the shadows?

What do we owe to you?

My maker, my seeker

At last, my destroyer.

What garb must I adorn that you,

Cannot tear away?

Now that I’m naked within

your eyes?

Shall I melt my vengeance and make it rain

On this parched land of mine?

Where wishing wells of mothers have dried

And fathers bereft of wishes would rather,

Turn the other way?

Should I crush my retribution and

Plant it in a pot?

Watch it grow day by day

Watch its tendrils choke my throat, like sinister vines

Or have its roots feed me

And its shade enclose me

Till I forget myself,

And drown.

Know that I will repay this bruise

And the flesh you crave.

Shall I beat down my retaliation?

And throw it in a pot

Cook it for my unborn child

All the while,

Thousand eyes watching

And a thousand faces spew out

Their whispers of poison.

But no, I shall shape my revenge

Like the sickle your fathers

Used to wield.

Sharpen the blade with words,

Timid things on my tongue

Nurse my wounds,

Watch this body sow what

you decided

To reap violently,

Till it grows strong

With my iron will

Shackled no more,

Within this parched land of mine,

Where, one day, the clocks will stop keeping time,

Someday the reasons will realign

One day, you shall face what you design.

Arms of You

What, I ask, comes after the flood?

Do we drift, or do we drown?

As ripples become waves, and

Threads become ropes

And we find ourselves ashore

Where we never were

Let me keep your silence

And you can keep my words

I've far too many beyond repair.

And I will watch the sun

Of your eyes changing colour

Brown at dusk, black at night

Rest against its white

Till I drown, in the ocean of hair

Where I sang in the cold

And the fog were my words

The night was blind to all

And the lights were dead

It was there, I found a safe place

In the arms of you.

Night

Lets

Break away

From this night of

Second chances

Where we meet,

As a river

Flowing nowhere.

Come

With your hair

Untied

Your body

Bruised

Reach me

In the only way

You know.

Greet

The day and

Hidden sounds

Of a forgotten banquet,

Swallowed tears

And ebbing mascara.

Remember

Not to tear away

From the embrace

Of fire

Or burning,

Of the lips

And eyes

Like fireflies

Dancing

In the dark.

Chasing words

I sometimes think I know, now that I'm a little old - but honestly, I think I'm still trying to learn that I shouldn't try and find poetry in everything. It's not a meal that's served in front of you, it's a chase or a hunt that must be experienced..and if need be, set free. Things that people remember may come from you but great things that you feel proud of always come to you. There's a delicate balance between resting and fleeing and as I said, I'm still trying to learn.

The Healing

No, today doesn’t die alone

Watch the withered colours run

From what the candle light has shone

Through tales of ghosts and freedom

Through touch of yore

And widened eyes of youth

That caress the fields of green

And within this forsaken shelter of little light

I laugh, and begin to breathe.

Will I find you in the tides?

At the periphery of waking?

Whisper and tame the spell of time

It is yours for the taking.

They may burn this tree down

But the roots will remain

The hope of age shall spring anew

After the falling of the rain.

And I shall follow your raindrops

Until on that cold floor, I kneel

If the sky is a wound

The moon will heal.

Shades of You

The shade of the day

Spill in to the evening

And the night is born

Where she dances, for no one in sight

And sometimes alone.

And words won’t stick to you

My beast of burden

My ocean bird

Know that my tired voice needs healing

Give it time, and

It will sing and soothe.

And though, powerless, I shall

Hum a new start

And bid goodbye to the heart

Of every dream’s waking

Where, at the edge of every answer

Lies the periphery of a crash

Where my fears collide

And I watch myself

Get consumed by you and die.

Panic

Where is her bottled flesh?

Is it exhumed and forgotten?

Where is my torn redemption?

Does it lie,

Surrounded by flies,

Withered and rotten?

This was a war

I was meant to lose

With my arms and armour

Of the chosen few.

I could try,

To not be capsized,

But panic spread through the crew.

Poetry On Road

They were laying poetry on the road,

Surrounded by steam

Oblique and mysterious

Soon to be left naked and flattened

Worn out, like

Words moulded in fire

Ripped off of verse.

Rain

What will you change?

A sky stripped of clouds

A smile in a wave of smoke

A voice through the garden

All these trudge along

Like children holding hands

On a road drenched with rain

Devoid of direction

Looking for a name.

Wayward Stranger

Harshly, you hit the road’s tide

Souvenirs, in your eyes

Wayward stranger with crooked teeth,

Send all your keepers home

And play by the colours old.

Time will run its course with you

Bruise you, burn you

And make you new.

So send all your kingdoms home

The grace never leaves us all.

And don’t go walking

With the same old ruse

Don’t you know I was

Never made for two?

Women Left Alone

Woman left alone

Tired, waiting

Call me out through the fog.

The time for verse

Is dead and gone

Time for us is now.

Woman left speechless

Hollow, empty

Ebb through me

Speak without a sound

Dance around the fire

Dance with my words

Red, like the evening

Red, when you were born.

Woman left laughing

Scant and vacant

Reaching for someone else’s hand

And leaving without a bow

Time for words is dead and lost

Time for us is now.

So woman, yield to me

All your weapons and armour

All the tricks that you employ

Take from me my wretched empires

And all my forgotten toys.

As I come to you

Woe begotten and hands tied

Clean and purged from within

Tell me a day will come

When the sun rises from your eyes

And settles beneath your skin.

Dogs

Sometimes i wish she would speak to me like she talks to a dog.

untitled

What time does not wither

And age cannot decay,

Is your beauty made in silence

What words cannot say.

Though you oft roam asunder

Like a cloud without a home

Your steps, they always rhyme

Even when alone.

Seasons of summer

Seasons of fall

Deep in your eyes

I meet them all.

And when winter comes,

I beg to stay

Like a vagabond, with

Hope of being astray

What time does not wither

And age cannot decay,

Is your beauty made in silence

What words never say.

You’re the candle

I, the wind

You’re the song

Words can’t sing.

You might be everywhere

Anywhere, nowhere at all

In everyone, anyone

Big and small.

Tender and little

Crude and bent

There was silence when I met you

Silence when you left.

What time does not wither

And age cannot decay,

Is your beauty made in silence

What words cannot say.