Scars

Scars they are,

Scars that are left behind.

Scars of victory,

Scars of love,

Scars of pain,

Scars of guilt,

Scars that remind you of a time,

that can never come back,

of time that has tested everything,

the love that bloomed and faded,

the glory that was earned and lost,

the gain that was laced with pain

and healed with time.

the rain that poured heavily and dampened the spirits,

the sun that rose and set to rise again,

the birds that left at every dusk

and the solitude you made peace with,

the people who came into your life,

for a purpose, for a lesson, for whatever

and chose to leave sooner or later.

Scars they are,

that remind you of good and evil,

loss and attainment,

life and death,

Scars that stay whether or not you want them to,

Scars that refuse to fade away with time,

Scars that keep reminding you what you are,

and make you ponder what you will be,

Scars that have become a part of life,

whether you want them to be or not,

Scars that we have accepted and surrendered to,

just like an alter soul that cannot be detached in a lifetime or more.

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Heart Breaks

Yes I have endured heart breaks too,

Every time I see an orphaned child picking up

rags on the road,

My heart breaks a little

Every time I visit the old lady next door,

Waiting for years now for her son to arrive,

While hoping against hope,

My heart breaks a little

Every time I drop a coin into the bowl of a crippled man,

Who sits near the temple in all weathers,

My heart breaks a little

Every time I pass a dog lying dead on the road,

Having been crushed by a vehicle, Just like another thing

My heart breaks a little

Every time I order high priced food in a café,

And leave some part of it untouched,

Even when I know there are people dying of hunger

My heart breaks a little

Every time I read about the crimes in the city,

while having my morning coffee,

and close the paper with a heavy sigh,

My heart breaks a little

Every time I set aside enough fortune to grant,

But instead spend most of it on unworthy lavishness,

My heart breaks a little

Every time I turn blind and stolid to my surroundings,

Every time I make and break promises to do my bit for this world,

Every time I am impassive to the sufferings of others,

Every time I indulge myself with extra comfort and elegance,

Every time I turn selfish and cruel with no regards for others,

My heart breaks a little,

It breaks a little more,

And it will keep breaking down,

Until it is shattered to its demise.

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Hidden

She sits there with a half-smile,

Listening to him or pretending to listen.

Wonder what she is trying to conceal.

Would that smile fade away from there,

Or bloom into a wider curve.

I could never say, and I will never guess.

Her eyes looking at him,

While not looking at all.

Wonder what that stare hides,

Will it rise to pray or look down upon rejection?

I would never attempt to comprehend.

I see no anger in them, nor any trace of sadness.

The moment has paused there,

And I don’t know if its love,

Or a striving desire to belie.

She looks neither old, nor young.

The charm lingers every now and then,

Before deserting and pervading the face again.

She speaks, and I can’t hear what it is,

Because life goes on, the world doesn’t pause ever.

The restaurant is buzzing with people, walking past us,

And each table has a story to tell.

Stories that eyes tell eyes.

Stories that can be read on faces.

Stories that make you ponder.

Stories that create memories to retain.

Stories that kill the passing time.

And stories that remind me of you,

While I sit here alone.

Because you never came,

And I know, you never will.

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When a year passes by

When a year passes by it leaves behind lot of reminiscences

I have an unfinished book and I don’t know if Veronica dies

I couldn’t complete a season and I still don’t know

the 13^th reason of 13 reasons why

Winter has not yet come for me in the Game of Thrones

as I find it rather too engaging and sometimes gross

I have a half-written poem and words just refuse to flow

I also have a blog page untouched since a month

I have a dairy with ten ways to cook chicken

and have tried only the first two

I follow a website that states the most scenic places

to travel

I have a travel bag and even a travel kit,

but still waiting to go on a long vacation

I had huge plans that didn’t materialize

I had many dreams that didn’t transpire

However, I have nothing to be flustered about

As this is how life presents itself

unfinished, undone and unacquired

This is what is living in the world like

Having a little, doing a little and giving a little

Perfection is rather boring and so is being complete

And here I am at the dawn of a new year

Wanting a little, dreaming a little and

most importantly living my unimportant life

When a year passes by, I realise that this is all

that is left in this beautiful life

The simple pleasures, the unfinished joys,

some old abandoned stuff and yet something new to dive

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Silence

Where did the blissful silence go?

Silence that made me think slowly.

Silence that opened a world of dreams.

Silence that made me speak to myself.

The tiny rain drops that were loud and clear,

In an evening of the blissful silence.

The cricket that sang and could still be heard,

The oil and spices that sizzled through the kitchen doors,

The kitten that would mew in the courtyard,

And the frog that made a noise on the stairs,

The bangles that made me feel granny’s presence,

The sound of water flowing while she cleaned the dishes

and wiped them dry.

That made me feel secure and happy at home.

That silence would make me lie down lazily,

Without caring for the world outside,

Without caring about the chaos of life,

That was the pleasure of being young,

When you still believed in promises,

When you still hoped for a fairy tale to come true,

When you still had a smile on seeing a box of candies,

When happiness was a cycle ride in the woods,

When a pocket full of coins made you feel rich,

When climbing a tree was the most amazing part of the day,

When falling from it would still not hurt,

When you lined up to hear the same story again and again,

When you still listened to your heart,

When the silence of your mind was not crowded

with reason, outcomes, targets and plans.

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To Winter

Oh winter your chillness can’t take the warmth of my mind

For it draws inspiration from the stories I discover

Stories in the fragments of my unsettled life

Stories in the innocence of smiles and depth of tears

Stories in the white lies and specks of hope

Stories in exasperation and reconciliation

For it draws comfort in the still words and long lines

The untold verses and dreams so divine 

The act of kindness and faculty of forgiveness

The charm of imagination and power of enlightenment

The grip of hands and caress of love

The colours of tomorrow and memories of yesterday

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Form of Art

To find beauty in plain,
To find romance in routine,
To find warmth in shades,
Is an art.

I think when mundane things become charming, when you find beauty where you thought it would never exist and the most routine job starts cheering you up, perhaps somewhere down the line you have found the underlying meaning. That you feel happy when you wish to be and that you see beauty where you want to see it. Perhaps this realization alone brings in the form of art. 


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