Let go of Rhyme...

Not really sure what prompted me to write this.
Was it the OR lecture?? Highly probable...
Or is it that I need to let it go...
Let go of the poems??
May be....

Need my poems on paper to rhyme so bad,
Like compensating for missing tunes,somewhere,
Obsessed,so much,that next word had to be sad/mad,
Dang!!Why not disturb,break,get rid of this dread,the fear.

विचार,बिखरे से

Looong time since I wrote something in Hindi...
Thnx google translitration...

विचारों के द्वन्द , छोटे किन्तु अनगनित ,
टकराते हुए बंद दरवाज़ों से,गुस्साए से तनिक.

यह क्यों वह क्यों नहीं,पूछते तुमसे,सबसे,
सरफिरे से हिचकोले खाते हुए , पर थामे हुए कसके.

अब विचारों को कौन समझाए,वे बोराऐ से प्राणी,
और वह भी तब,जब विचार ही चिंतन करें, करें मनमानी.

चलिए,ख़तम करें यह अंतर द्वन्द,विचारों से की याचना,
वे खिलखिलाए , बोले, हम तो साधन मात्र हैं,आखिर हैं तो तुम्हारी ही रचना.

Arcs to Lines...and back...

Placement seasons are weird...sometimes they bring the best in us ( not that often ) and sometimes the worst. The face it brings forth is mostly not the one we usually heed to,listen to or obey.But this season is actually capable of bringing up something base right on the surface.

Nerves still unnerved,heart still pounding,
Bruise still afresh,dread,steady and mounting.

Yeses Nos,Ins Outs,for me,wrongs the only rights,,
Balance dis balanced,sure of being unsure,seemingly futile fights.

Being judged,being measured,being scrutinized,being pruned,
My once mighty resolve,being fed weakness,almost tuned.

The smiling facade,jaded now,for Ouch!! it pinches,
Moon arc to linearity,the journey,arduous,though its inches.

To hit and bend the line to the once beatific serene,
Take hits and count how many "have nots",the "could have beens".

It...

Who says material pursuits are unemotional fights over nothing deep.
Sometimes, "It" is what becomes your biggest fight...


A twinkle in eye,with a drop of tear,
It was all so far,yet it seemed so near.

All I wanted was to touch "It",hold "It",raise "It" high,
Grow, from being a mere undeserving onlooker,letting out a sigh.

For I needed "It" so bad,so very much,
It became who I am,it held me,became my crutch.

What's this!Some one pushes me,jostles,goes past,
I hit the ground,small nukes in brains,a blast.

"It" is no more mine,strange hand smothering it,
"It" is mine,I shout,rest stare,as if I was under a deranged fit.

I laugh out,crying,and Oh so loud,letting out the pain,
See me cry today,see me hurt today,but I will fight you for "It",Once again...

What?

What makes me feel that I want to shout
What forces me to lose,give up that bout

What haggles me to say things I don't really mean
What haunts me to stay where I couldn't not be seen

What tells me that I am not myself today,
What is it that pushes me in a hole,no light,no day

What is it that I have to lose over to win,
What is tearing me apart,taking away,last thread,that last pin

Dad...

Sense of futility...That is all I can experience now...
From everyone here at IIFT to our friend Ankush and his family...
To your Dad...your anchor...may he Rest in Peace...

Ever found your world crumbling as you tread,
Losing the one , your pillar,strength,your need.

My small hands,snugly wrapped around his finger,
I grew big and tall,but my heart within his,still lingers.

You were everything I could tell without saying,Dad,
Your hard exterior a mere facade,for my pains made you sad.

Mom showered me with so much love,you just saw,smiled,
I knew how much you wanted to say,but well,failed.

And I suddenly find myself,in abyss,without an anchor,
My ships hull wobbling,Dad,I feel like a sinker.

For you were all I leaned upon,again and ever,
With you,a part of me gone,crushed,a tie severed.

I am not sure how to respond,for I am all grown up and all,
I just want to hold your hands again,forget all worries,just be your kid...small.