Vows And Woes

She came in much earlier this year

Breezing past them all, nuzzling in their ear

This time was different though, a friend gave her company

Didn’t go down well, none approved of this matrimony

Little did she care though, for they’d been given their chance

To love her, respect her, to bring in the romance

But they took her for granted, not noticing the magic of her being

The way she cooled them, loved them, was a sight worth seeing

She decided not to wait any longer, all she craved was respect

That’s when he came along, to save the damsel in distress

Aggression in his blood, destruction was in his name

An encounter with him was terminal, bloody was his game

Hand in hand they walked, into the city calm

Set everything afloat, kicked up a literal storm

Finally they kneeled, folded hands, in front of her

Begged for their lives, asked not to make them suffer

Winter sought vindication in this new found godly appeal

Storm, her new mate, had made a deadly reveal

Together they set off seeking justice, everywhere that Winter was wronged

Mother Nature, however subtle, had raised all her children strong.

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Step Out

These inhibitions that hold you down

Some, gifts from the society, the others your own

They look sturdy but they’re only silken strings

Tug at them and they snap at once

But step out soon, else they grow back around you

This time stronger, much more sturdier

And they’ll feed on you, and stay silken no more

Then the day will come, you’ll not have known when

Silken strings were replaced by iron shackles….

Road Trips

These are the very roads we traversed in broad daylight

But somehow the silver of the moonlight makes them look pristine

The tree by the roadside we found pretty and calm by day

Roars with might, showcasing strength by night

The stream that glimmered golden this morning

Still glows, only with hues of moonlit silver

With no clear distinction between fog and cloud

We walk right through a blanket of thick white wonder

As nature, in all its majesty changes form over time

She never ceases to amaze, with all the beauty she holds dear

And the million faces on the way, unknown, yet, imparting belonging

And their million smiles, those of gratitude and simple acknowledgment

Road trips are intriguing, to each hungry eye

And with those you hold dear, road trips are important

For the destination then never matters, time is the supreme precious

One such road trip, with roads prettier than the destination…

The Price Of knowing

Is it fair that life can be brutally harsh in more ways than one, all at once? 

Would it be okay to still call it coincidence, and not unnatural as my world gets undone? 

With all that was dear, lost, and all that was life, hurt, is it okay for me to smile yet? 

Will anticipation get the better of me, my fears redeemed, and spirits upset? 

See, that’s the part of growing up that I abhor- that I know and understand more

That the youth in my kin is greying and ageing, the poverty in our pockets not hidden anymore

And then there’s expectation, be an adult, understand, and find a way out

It scares me to tell you, I’m just as lost as you, it scares me to say it aloud

I detest birthdays because each adds a wrinkle to my prematurely ageing brow

Most of all the fear that erupts from all these secrets that I now know

And tell me to be fearless, and I’ll still worry, because believe me, life is trying

With all the courage I have, and all the knowledge you give me,I try, and yet end up crying

For this tunnel we’re walking through seems to have no light at the end at all

And I see you melt, right before my eyes, your dejection the last crack in the wall…

Undying

Strolling down the grassland, exploring nature’s raw beauty

I noticed a flower bud, little, but pretty 

Inconspicuous though its location, yet extremely attractive

It caught my attention, held me captive

I decided to watch , as long as time permits

It’s evolution through life, those subtle transits

The tiny green bud now was waking from its slumber

Gently peeking through, were delicate petals, lavender

Over days to come, she stretched out lazily

Bright slender petals fluttered against the wind happily

The sun shone across its being, made it shimmer

Dewdrops at dawn, moonlight, set to glimmer

I saw her through the harshest of sun and worst of breeze

Strong as ever she stood, “You’re invincible, ” I teased

She was so many colours inside, you’d miss if you didn’t care

With utmost subtlety and poise, her stance, she’d bear

But time came, the slender lavender could hold up no more

She curled upon herself, even as wind through her, tore

When tempest did no harm,a silent breeze denuded her centre

All colour lost, shrunken, ready to wither

The lavender turned brown, almost as if by magic

And just like that, she was gone, a sight beyond tragic

For weeks I did mourn, looking at the soil that was her abode

Not noticing her hundred daughters that now lined the road

Just as man mourns the demise of who to him are dear

Not knowing they live on, through deeds, genes and peer

They say life is temporary, but death permanent

I’d argue, life’s temporary, but death, isn’t even a thing.
In memory of Chester Bennington whom I’d only recently begun to know and respect and who continues to live through his music in all of us.

The Pursuit Of Identity

Have you ever observed butterflies, just doing their thing, fluttering their wings? 

Ever wanted to choose which one of them was prettier? 

Ever wondered what they’d be like ,sans all the color? 

Did they, as caterpillars intrigue you just as much? 

Would they ,with broken wings, interest you just as much? 
No. The beautiful wings gave them identity.
Ever placed paper on oil paint and marveled at the random designs?

Ever repaired a tattered shoe until you made it shine? 

Ever noticed a solitary dragonfly in a pack of over a thousand? 

Ever paid attention to a background dancer without reason? 
The paint gave paper identity. Identity to its blank existence

Your effort gave the shoe identity. Identity to its ragged existence

A solitary dragonfly has none whatsoever, unless a wing’s extra, or none at all

Limelight gives the dancer its identity, identity with reason.
Would it be completely wrong then, to say

Identity is identity ,only as long as you hold on to it? 
A baby’s born, and nurtured with “unconditional love”

It grows to become an obedient kid, loved and blessed by all

One fine day, it goes missing, much to everyone’s horror

The description they gave was of a well mannered kid, happy, active and cheerful.

Word gets out and a hunt begins, no yield whatsoever.
Ten years down, at the door he stands, every bit a tramp

Smoking a joint, unruly hair, stinking of alcohol and dirt

Their kid went missing, a boy had returned, not in the slightest their own

Unconditional love seemed a lost cause, not knowing how things had turned
They took him in, fed him well, but only because he was blood

The person in him was no more their own, he felt his soul burn

Went away without saying a word, this time no search ensued

No tears shed, no worries exchanged, none a fan of his identity, new.
He went, only to return, a man of thirty, having figured out his life

His effort to be someone they’d love, wouldn’t go unanswered

This time they took him in, arms wide open, tears of joy were shed

Made him promise he’d never walk away, their boy had finally returned
He went in search of his lost identity, that which appealed to all

Buried the one he carried, instead, that which appealed to him

Lived the rest of his life happy, amid love and respect

The only emotion missing, now, was that of content
At seventy he fell sick, his memory couldn’t keep up

The people faded from his mind, they who were his identity

They walked away from his self, “unconditional love” went down the drain

He lost his real identity for people who didn’t care after all….

Where We Truly Belong

​When the green outside is so plush and soothing it makes the mandatory blacks and whites seem unimportant
When the faraway chirping of an unknown bird seeks its way through music booming in your earphones
When the sky is an enormous blanket of the faintest blue and you gaze not realizing its been hours already
When the few drops of crystal clear rain light up your face a million times better than makeup could
When that cup of coffee in the verandah with nobody but the trees and grass makes life worth living
When you feel one with nature and not just a fading part of it
When losing yourself in the woods gives the pleasure that these concrete jungles can’t
When mother earth in all her raw beauty satisfies you more than these futile attempts at beautification
Maybe that’s when we realise we went a little too far, a little too fast
Because all that remains now is patches of her amid moulds and scaffolds, bamboo, tar and concrete
Because all that remains, is all that we’ve left behind…

Starlight

​Stars, sands and the sea witnessed

The newest, purest form of love

All night

Realistic, a future they planned

Learning, loving and providing each other with

Insight

Glee and happy tears, they both

Held each other in a tight embrace in the

Twilight.

To My Timeless Hero…

​My grandpa’s an octogenarian now
His feet dawdle, his hands tremble

His vision is blurred, his speech is slurred

He hides his watch and forgets his torch

The once know it all now struggles for recall
‘ Evils of old age’, I hear. Evil, really? 

As a toddler I was so loved, (still am)

I fell as I walked, made no sense when I talked

My hands all dirty, my feet all jerky

I hid all my toys, screeched at the top of my voice
‘Beauty of childhood,’ they say, and I agree

Why? 
Why’s old age evil and childhood the best? 

Those hands that made me, don’t they deserve respect? 
Grandpa spills food and it’s a mess to clean

I used to do the same, but cute it must’ve been
I cried for attention, and surely, I got tons

Now grandpa does the same, and he has none
He repeats himself helplessly, though no one really cares

My senseless blabber was attended to, like I had a story to share
And after he’s been told off, I catch him lost in deep thought at times, 

Helplessly looking out the window, I wonder if they’re same as mine
Grandpa spoke so passionately, of the happiness of holding our tiny little fingers

It is heart wrenching, you know, not being there to help with his quiver
The man who gave us his all, now just longs for reciprocation

While we’re busy fighting his age like it’s a monster with aggression
His brain is failing him and he turns towards his beloved  family
His ‘exasperated’ family instead, finds his ageing ‘ugly’
This was our chance, and we let it slip, for our ego is more important

Than to give back to them what they gave us- love, care, attention
Nature’s big plan now stands flawed, reduced down to a petty game
I’ve failed you grandpa, you know that too, and yet, you love me the same…

All That Changed

​I wrote my alphabet fast while he wrote beautifully

All the knowledge we had, few letters, A to Z

We were on the same page….

I was good with words, she aced her numbers

I helped her with essays, she rested my math fumbles

We were on the same page….

My feet had a thing for dance, he had wonderful music

Talent all the same, though different were our musings

We were on the same page….

She cared for homeless animals, I collected for charity

Both noble causes, no room for disparity

We were on the same page….

But now, we’re not

We’re not because he’s smarter, and I’m nowhere close

We’re not because she’s rude, and that, everyone knows

And let’s not accept that these are games my mind leads

That I had an hour more to dance and he, few to read

That she’s not rude, and that straightforward is the word

That I can mould anyone in my mind, decide their worth

We aren’t on the same page anymore

Not since I decided:

I’m gorgeous, she’s not

She’s ugly, I’m hot

He’s dumb, I’m smart

His words garbage, mine , art

We stopped. We changed

Where only bad could be seen, we changed

Where the mind took over, we changed

Each time I saw a flaw, I changed

Each time I laughed them off, I changed

That book of life flipped back a hundred pages 

Regressing from where I started, recovery will take me ages…..

(The diary of every ungrateful human)