I wonder at the thought, when

Thy lease with my life culminates!

Oh what a day will it turn out to be,

Even at this hour, when thy presence

Is profound in my life, I can feel;

The forlorn gloom, melancholic days

Dipped in the tears of thy thought,

Sails in front of my eyes. . .

The visions that I can see, will come

And with one blow take away all

the happiness and pleasure that

I enjoy in thy company…

This paradisal existence, in thy presence,

Would soon turn into a barren nightmare,

And the veil of gloom shall strangulate me

From within…

Your departure would be arduous to encounter,

But thou shall not stop!

Thou shall move on, for in thy happiness lies mine.

The sweet memories will linger in my memories,

The touch of yours I shall bore on my body,

And through these would obtain occasional glimpses

Of yours. Thou has made me gleeful, elevated my position,

I bless thee, bestow all my good wishes on thee,

That would keep you away from deuce interventions…

Move on! Move on! Stop not!

A day of Hypocrisy...

It’s time again for us to show our full fledged hypocrisy, by playing patriotic songs in the entire morning and then wearing colourful dresses in the evening, visiting shopping malls, parks or restaurants. Yes, I am talking about 15^th August. This is the way every year we show our reverence for our country. Today I am compelled to write this article, as I think there is no other way I can express my contempt and wrath regarding this. I also participate in this occasion, but refuse to celebrate, as I find the entire thing very meaningless. Standing at this crucial juncture, when the very existence of democracy is threatened, the country is sinking deep into the problems of inflation, poverty, superstitions, gender bias, political turmoil, terrorism, communalism, corruption, unemployment and so on, I see no reason to feel that we are INDEPENDENT; no reason to celebrate this day either.

I raise a question: Is this the kind of nation, that Mahatma Gandhi wanted to build? Is this the country for which Subhas Chandra Bose sacrificed his self? Is this the same India which Tagore dreamt of making? This questions will forever be left unanswered, but will keep on haunting the minds of the people; at least some, if not all. A country, which once produced politicians like Mahatma Gandhi and Subhas Chandra Bose, is now in dearth of a Leader, who can guide it through the hazards of existence. The ideals that were set on 15^th August, 1947 are long lost now and things have largely remained on paper. The dream of Gandhiji, that India shall be a country, where there shall be no room for communal violence and corruption, is now in tatters. The system of democracy is challenged and distorted in certain parts of the country, almost leading to a fascist form of government. This has become a nation, where the government forcefully takes away land from poor peasants, at the cost of their lives. People do not hesitate to slaughter his fellow beings. The very foundation of our system is rotten: education, politics, bureaucracy, health, employment; each and every field is filled with rampant corruption and widespread politics. The misuse of power has reached its nadir in the recent years.

I am sure this is not a time for us to rejoice, as we are not INDEPENDENT; we are in fetters, the fetters of foul politics. Our liberty and freedom have been carefully crushed and perished to the grounds….. This is not the nation, which was desired by Gandhi, Nehru and Tagore. We are to make it a better place… how??? Very simple, just remember the famous saying of Gandhi- “Be the Change that you wish to see…”

Muse?

Art thou my muse?

Art thou my inspirer?

With the very thought of yours

My pen runs with a unique vigour,

Oozing out liquid music, mixed

With the sorrows and joys of my heart.

Thy thought brings upon me certain

Poetic spirit, not to be found otherwise,

And turns me into a lunatic,

Blessing me with the divine ability to

Perceive things differently.

The veil of dullness and monotony

Is silently removed by the touch of

Your magic wand, which brings

Spring rains of rejuvenation

And embalms my parched soul,

Returning the former mirth and joy.

But this momentary bliss soon

Gets lost in a dark cavern of emptiness,

Where fear and gloom dwells, conspire

To taunt me with myriad pains.

But I keep firm, letting the torment hide

Within me, not letting them realize

And wait for that divine inspiration and thought

That fills the firmament of my mind

With vibrant colours of hope and exhilaration,

And in that ecstasy, forget all the agony,

Successfully encountering life’s tyranny…

I present this as an Orison to you,

The sole You and only You,

Who has raged a tempest of Love winds

In my heart. The tumultuous waves of thy presence

Coerces my fragile heart to sink into thy thoughts.

Such is thy might! I stare and adore,

With every touch of thee, my soul returns to that pristine state,

From which it ripened.

Thy enchanted fingers delicately remove

The clouds of depression, that blots the light

Emanating from my heart.

The light that helps me to recognise you.

Thy presence fills my mind with a divine fragrance,

The aroma of which reinvigorates my soul,

Reinstalls in me a sturdy aspiration to Live.

Every encounter with you seems to be a novel action.

The vision and voice of yours generates amorous

Instinct in my mind and attracts myself

To the cornerstone of thy heart.

Oh What stuff are you made of?

Who has created thee?

Is it He who has created this ignoble soul?

Filled thee with all the aura of His!

Letting happiness to some and misery to others…

Thy demeanor raises you to the nadir of his mansion,

With all that thou desire, splendid and fulfilled.

And I, another performance of His,

Trudge my way through the thorn scattered path,

Delicately designed by Him,

To test my might, to note my endurance!

Serve Him I must, for he is the sole

But pray to thee, who art my whole.

My heart shall garner strength from thee,

Thy presence to provide my might.

Thy smell to refill this vessel and thy touch

To embalm my sorrows.

Take this as my Orison, not to Him but thee,

My sole pleasure is to wait and watch

The path where your shadow falls to offer

Momentary bliss, bring fragmented rest in my life…

Leave me not, stay with me,

This is my Orison to thee…

To Someone Special

I submit myself to thy feet

Request you to delve inside my heart, and

Get to know my feelings for you.

Oh! How I long to get the touch of your hand,

Get the smell of your flesh,

How I long to get embraced by you…

Each time you come near me

A forlorn pleasure engulfs my heart.

A brooding sadness puts its veil over my soul.

My incessant stare slowly empties my emotions

Until the lees, and leaves me vacant. . .

Silently waiting for you to refill me,

With your delicate fragrance, that seductive smile

The dainty gestures and divine beauty.

Oh! I shall sit, I shall wait eternally,

Until thou recognise my motives,

Recognise the pristine splendour of my feelings…