The Cosmic Harmony

As I playfully sprinkle those mesmerizing drops of kisses into your magnetic eyes, you stand there smiling. You slowly move forward, those little steps take you too dangerously close to me that you fail to notice that your bosom grazes my chest, and you smile again. I inhale your sweet breath and the fragrance in your hair, the blend smites me. I am not really sure if I should lay hands on your hips and take you inside my heart - because what goes inside the heart doesn't come out without tearing me apart and leaving me to bleed, bleed to death. But I am sure I am able to hear the flute play clearly and my soul dances like how little children do.

You are the physician that has peppered my sleep with repeated fevers that I have strangely started liking them. You slap me with your smiles - give me more of them, slay me - because every time your soft palm touches my cheek, I feel a tremor that builds back my broken edifices. I can feel my best senses and sensibilities lying numb, curled inside the storm that is you. You defeat me and I still win.

When I hold you in my arms one day, I would do it like you are the most precious magical vapours found in the best places of heaven. The more you sail through the gorges of my mind, the more saner I become and the waves become still and serene. The more I give, the more I receive. Until I am drenched in your never-failing, unending monsoons. Take away the umbrellas I carry with me, throw them away, blacken your clouds, blow your winds over me, rain down.

P.S. It is 4:30 in the morning and daybreak is fast approaching, but I still see the stars smiling at me with their twinkles - as my pen inks the paper. It is real - love truly is cosmic harmony.

Break The Fences

During the shrill of the night, they came crawling from everywhere - setting fire to the inner self that was cowering in terror. I was under siege. There were blockades around, everywhere, I couldn't jump and run away. My adrenalines failed me, so I sat there, shivered, pissed on my pants and gnashed my teeth to powder. I fought my best inhibitions to not wanting to open my eyes, but I was defeated. When I looked around, all that I could find on the contrary was peace.

I saw bats flapping their wings, it rhymed as music to me. Cricket sounds added flavour to the eerie silence. There were no men or women on the streets. But plenty of dogs, stray ones, some howling and some wagging their tails in love and freedom. I knew in my heart that this was heaven. The world taught me to hate darkness, but I started finding light in it. It appeared much more real without the allures of the day. I looked at the skies, the moon was shining bright and those stars, they were winking sweetly at my otherwise ridiculed form.

What they ask you to do misleads you. What takes you away from structure and the generally agreed rightful ways, takes you to your paradise. For in chaos lies beauty spectacular. Your wandering soul finds its rest in the fields carpeted with scrubby tufts of grass and weed, not in the coziness of your bed. The weather is lovely, monsoon is here, break the fences, run, run so hard away, for there are monsters within, you don't belong here, let it thunder and rain, and the floods flow wild.

Pleading The Case Of The Destitute

To punch for a social revolution in India is not as tough as one might think in an age where the earning breed of youngsters is more interested in spending their weekends drinking and dancing in pubs and dancebars. All that it takes to get there is to have a little bit of compassion in your heart to be different and good. However nebulous the dimensions of poverty might appear in the land, the condition of destitution is not unidentifiable. To put it straight, the poorest of the poor are the destitutes. People who have nothing at all to eat, no shelter, no access to clothes that aren't torn, unkempt, remnants of a collapsed household, most of them psychologically scarred, maggots feeding on their bodies, no strength to even stand up and beg for alms.

The absolute disregard the society imposes on the poor is completely shattering. Nobody cares for them because everyone is busy living their own lives, one is interested only in upgrading the lifestyle of his own, even the charity organisations that work in the nation are more inclined towards converting black money into white and taking a cut home for themselves, and the destitute continue to revel in the murk of social expulsion. 

The duties of the State to provide the basic necessities to the poverty stricken people - is observed in the breach. The beggary prevention acts we have are more interested in portraying vagrancy as crime, just because it branches out into sex work, drug peddling and human trafficking. Our policy framework must aim at hitting the root of the issue - which is poverty. Not stopping there, we need to move from being poverty-alleviation centric to making poverty completely defunct - though it might appear as an un-achievable distant dream. Deprivation of citizenship for these poor ones that accounts for a serious condition of invisibility before the State would only aggravate the wound that pusses into decay every passing day. The nation awaits a vital revival from the ministerial chairs as much as we do from the hearts of people. 

As a society, the mantle and mandate is on everyone living in the land to involve themselves in some way or the other to voice out for causes such as these; or change wouldn't come. We need to stop - sanctioning selective violations of rights, social expulsion and practising notions of justice involving stigma which permits oppressive treatment outside the law. The more we join hands to advocate social restitution and empowerment leading to the re-inclusion of the disentitled people into the pool of claimants from the state, the more blessed and happy our nation would become.

You, woman, are a wonder!

You, woman, are a wonder; the world just has to open its blind eyes to see it. You are sculpted to perfection - inch by inch, cell by cell; you are poetry in pendulous motion. A simple smile from your soft lips can set ablaze cold hearts that are as stubborn as dead rock. The gentleness you carry and the kindness that flows out of your soul can beat the exoticism of all the best things the world has ever known. You define beauty in the most unique ways from every angle of perception. Even the best logarithmic expressions would fail miserably to capture the upright decisiveness of your exponential clarity. You are a theorem that doesn't end, and a law that doesn't need proofs.

You are small and slender, but equally fierce, and stormy enough to raze the best edifices of men. Thunders come down along with your tears, there is not a place that escapes a dent when hit by your thoughts. You are strong and powerful, a small fist that could break mountains, and a breeze that brings out the worst volcanoes. You are both an angel and a devil, the nightmare that men crawl into - to understand but find no answer. Prosperity flows out of the diligence of your hands, the same hands that could also crush cruel dictators into powder and ash.

I see you, your inside, the scars you try to hide and smile at you. You should simply bare it all, be who you really are, there isn't a need to be pretentious, spoil not the wizardry within you like an amateur magician. You are real, not somebody's assumption or vague imagination. You are the candle that doesn't need to melt to bring out the light, you are the light. Fall on me, let me see my shadows form behind - so I know I am a mortal treading his way to his glorious end.

Crazily Forever

I was beaten and taken down to a cellar full of coal, dust and darkness. There, I found you. Like a shining diamond that would fill my cold cup with gladness and make me warm. You came running from your hide out and jumped on me, wrapping your legs around me while your bum sat on my hip, and you softly placed your lips onto mine. Then you rubbed your lips against mine for some time - smiling and whispering your 'I love you's and then started kissing me deep, you hands kneading my back. I fell down into a blue ocean, we swimming together and you asking me to become a dolphin. I bite your ears instead and tell you that I am a tiger that goes after his slender deer. You push me away and swim. Swim to an island so exotic that when I saw you there, I felt this was heaven.

You wanted us to roll on the beach mud and laugh till it was sunset; and we ended up making love there - with waves grazing our skin as your sound and motion finished us off in style and we falling into each other's arms together, content. When we woke up, we were in a ball room filled with cute couples dancing, the overwhelming romance in the air forced me to pinch your midriff. That's all that I did and you forcibly led me to the floor and I danced the dance I would never forget even when I sleep, shut inside my grave. Because you knew the jazz that played in the background so well that you planted pecks that turned into kisses that intensified into smooches whenever the music hit those loverly notes. I sincerely haven't heard or known a better song and music, but you.

Then we rushed for home because our kids were waiting for us to come back. As we stepped inside the house, it was all dark. You were holding my wrinkled hand because you cannot see properly now even with your glasses on. Ah there you go, the lights came on with a lot of loud shouts, party poppers exploding and our little grand children swarming around us and everyone gathered singing the best anniversary songs - with a big cake kept for us and photographs from the past hung every where. There, there, in front of every one you wanted to kiss me so badly and you did it - embarrassing me right before all our children. For this, my dear crazy lady, I love you. Forever and ever.

What is to love?

To love is to die, to love is to hate yourself more than you love yourself, to love is to go hungry for nights without food because you are broke and you don't easily borrow money even from your dad, to love is to wake up all night thinking how you take her out of the shit she's stuck in, to love is to see magic when she smiles, to love is to give, give it all, to love is to pour out to the last drop of your blood, to love is to pick fights with total strangers who would dare speak shit about her, to love is to not be open about all the things you did and what you had to go through because your situation shouldn't make her feel bad even in her distant thoughts, to love is to be true, to love is to break down and cry even if you are a man, to love is to get hurt, to love is to create circumstances to make her hate you so she can forget you and be happy, to love is to give away all that she returned to a charity organisation which in turn makes a lot of poor people happy, to love is to smoke a lot knowing that it is killing you, to love is to draw sketch after sketch, to love is to write poetry, to love is to donate blood thrice a month even after knowing that you are an epileptic, to love is to take a strange old woman who faints in front of you on your motorcycle and drop her home, to love is to not allow men to harass women, to love is to buy medicine every month for children affected by AIDS and not tell anyone about it, to love is to care genuinely, to love is to have knife marks on your body trying to rescue trafficked children, to love is to smoke up to see hallucinations - the only place you see her very delightful, to love is to change and fade away, to love is to become like little kids, to love is to be passionate, to love is to strum your guitar, to love is to whistle, to love is to go on long rides your bullet all alone, to love is not doing things to impress anyone, to love is to live life to its fullest.

Thoughts that flowed after a totally random guy talked to me of love and religion. I sincerely told him that he knows not love.

A Ballad - The Woman From Future

You are my sky

Vast in its blue expanse, splendor and beauty

Like a bird I shall fly freely

Into you

Feeling you in every whiff of air I breathe in

As I flap my wings

Moving into dense clouds and out

I don't have to die

To go to heaven or hell

Paradise, is living with an ever present sense of assurance

That keeps whispering into my ears

That your heart is cradled in happiness

And my worst nightmare, your tears

They skin me alive

Ask whatever you want of me

I shall give you

My life and my death are in the power of your slender hands

The alcohol and the tobacco stains that have polluted my blood

Leave my head in an unending spin

So I reach out for the pencils

To draw a sketch with my eyes closed

When sobriety hit me in the morning 

My eyes fell on the sketchbook

I saw you there

Your blazing eyes gazed straight at me

And your smile intoxicated me again 

But what captured my heart more was your soul

I could see it popping out from the paper

And it spoke to me

Told me of all your joyous moments and the nicest memories

Also of the past that has incarcerated you

I fell in love with your soul

For its beauty lies safely hidden inside its brokenness

I got up from my bed

My heart singing songs of delight

Only to be hit by a tempest shortly and dropping dead

Bring me back to life if you could

Or leave me alone

So I rot at the mercy of the maggots

That feed on my decaying flesh

Which once housed my soul

That never could let love disappear and die.

My Type Of Woman

My type of girl prefers motorcycle over car, and bicycle over motorcycle. Sketches over photographs, and pens over pencils. She is the divine morning, clothed in its abject beauty - with cloud forms peppered all over the orange sky. She's simple, real, free-spirited, adventurous, wild, happy, independent, doesn't give or take orders, has high moral standards, knows to take care of herself, focused and an ardent fan of art in any form. If you ask me, she is art herself, the way she moves would tickle my senses all over. You have no idea what a charmer she is; ever-smiling, kind, honest, and she also loves little children. She's good at something that I am not good at, and she tries to teach me. Well, right now I have no clue about what that something could be.

I could just sit by that lake, she sitting closer - with her thighs grazing mine, and listen to all her stories that beautify the sunset evenings furthermore. She has flaws, yes. She has a past, yes. But it's okay and alright. Well, who doesn't? We all have dirty laundry hanging in our rooms. What matters to me is that I still find her perfect and beautiful. If I have to be frank, I fell for her scars and imperfections, not for her skin and shape. I am glad that I am able to look at her soul while other men could only gaze at her body. If she ever sinks into her lows gathered from her troubled past, I very well know how to brighten her mood, merry her heart and make her smile. She does the same to me too, there is no doubt - she is one of the most humorous women I have ever met. Dare anyone makes her cry, I shall punch the person to death.

The best thing about her is that she doesn't try to control me, because she trusts me. She gives me the space that I need, and I give her the space that she needs too. The mutual respect we have for each other is incomparable, even though teasing is our favourite past-time and we don't mind getting crazy with our jokes on each other - even if other people are around. I cut the vegetables and do the dishes, while she cooks me food. I wish I could cook too, would have been more fun. May be one day, I will surprise her. We wash our own clothes, except for the days one of us falls sick - that is when the healthier one gets to help; oh we love helping each other. She doesn't suffer from indecision concerning important things in life, because she's clear in her thoughts. But otherwise, she intrigues me on a daily basis. Wherever necessary, I try to help - though it doesn't majorly help; but I enjoy anyways. The small pillow fights we frequently have, the petty things we argue about, the constant efforts by one to make the other happy, the teasing that gets creative everyday, the undying love and the many kisses - are all that I wake up for!

Flower and Fragrance!

She slapped him with a song. It swung him into a never-ending spin, even the shabbiest of things turned beautiful like how Midas's touch turned everything gold. Then he started hating everything that was happening around, because 'everything rosy and beautiful' is a little too much to handle. It kind of appeared so bland and the flavor was slowly fading. She read his mind, and blew kisses from her sweet mouth. No exaggeration - his heart did feel the heaviest blow, like how a pilot would explosively propel himself out of the aircraft - having mistakenly pressed the eject button.

He was going up and up in the skies, his stomach tickling, thought he would die after a while when gravity would pull him down into abyss. But a parachute opened up, and held him floating in the air. She was clearly observing his state of mind and all that she could do was - giggle and laugh. He remembered a Henry Miller quote which said - 'There's something perverse about women, they're all masochists at heart.' Yes, it did hurt, but still he found it all beautiful. So sacredly and so erotically beautiful - both at the same time.

It is true, love plays dangerous games with your soul. Until the day you exorcise all the demons that hide in the dark, every little move will haunt you. And it is not good for a person to stay inside a haunted house for long, or it might derange one's being. But however gravely bad the surroundings and the circumstances might appear, howsoever screwed up the logic - that forms the basis of our society - might sound, can you really separate the fragrance from the flower? Can. You?

The Roaring Waves Of Love's Embrace

If you want to listen to the music that plays within my soul, you have to come close, be in the quiet, close your eyes and focus - or you would miss a few notes. If you find it so soothing to be true, I dare you put me into the hottest of pans and fry me up alive until I give up my ghost, pour a few bottles of acid and water over me so I burn down faster but into a lowly sludge of slimy ash. As you see my flesh and bones shudder in the heat with excruciating pain, do these three things - the last wishes of a dying man - one, do not panic; two, bite your teeth and be cold for a while; three, come closer still and stare. To add to the disturbing chill, you would notice even the last few gasping breaths of mine speaking volumes of love.

You might, with mock derision, ask me - what do you know of love if you have never been into an affair? How do you know what it feels like to be immersed in the roaring waves of love's embrace? You are a fucking virgin, you haven't even touched a girl ever in a sensuous way - what kind of noisy rant do you moan of love? Love certainly is not simple and I don't understand much of its complexities - who does anyway! - but I know one thing very clear. It was only when I walked into the darkest of places, I found love; and ever since I have been paralyzed by its symphony. It was in melancholy, I discovered my melody; and I precisely know where to find beauty - for it lies hidden inside the scars and the unhealed wounds.

It is true that we cannot limit love to culture and its many rituals, because it is beyond human constructs of family and society. There is nothing apart from love that can transcend every divisive force that tries to wreck this world. I always tell the kids I meet at the orphan homes that if they wanted to become superman, they should love. Because when love sets in, it would make a superhero out of the simple you. For - at the touch of love, one not just becomes a poet; he also becomes a mad man, a man truly out of his fucking mind; and history has always testified to the fact that only madmen have insofar loved in truth. You need to be really mad to not shy away from getting beaten up for the sake of the oppressed; to pump your blood out frequently to help save lives despite being an epileptic; to love others more than you love yourself even though you clearly know 'love thy neighbour more than thou love thyself' is recipe for self-destruction. What is life, but to continuously break yourself down completely and then build again - until the day you become the best edifice, a wonder the entire world would rave about.

The Comforting Lap Of Flower Petals

You hypnotize me, sprinkling honey into the soft evening winds so when they graze against my skin - my soul loses its gravity and spins eternally into the black hole of your sweet vices. You sting me like a scorpion and peel my heart open like how they remove the fibrous coconut coir - to show me what's hidden inside. All that I am left with is a pair of lungs full of breath holding poetry - with all the schematic rhyming and the music. I could hear the distant sound of the clarinets and the lyres growing stronger at the passing of every second, and it befuddles me to do something crazy. So I try to flap - first slowly and then fast - only to discover to my amusement that I'm one of those mutant humans who had wings. You wouldn't believe if I told you that I did fly - flew so high - like a kite, without knowing if it was east or west, or north or south. In simple words, you put me up there in the high skies, totally lost.

You intoxicate me, the smell of your lips is far more stronger than the best fragrance of all the exotic flowers found on earth. I want to know how you managed to plant a tempest inside my heart because it demolishes me from within. The very gaze of yours disintegrates me like how dandelions become dust, it belittles the wild me into a lit wax candle that melts. You - with ease - spin a piece of dry hay into rainbow and shatter a hard stone into slimy clay, but how? I'm trying hard but your image doesn't disappear at all even if I opened my eyes - I'm confused if this is some form of lucid dream. There wouldn't be any worry if only I were a bee that sleeps on the comforting lap of flower petals. If only.

The Muddy Pot

Trapped in your eyelashes,

I tried so hard to wake up;

But your yawns, they pull me down!

Into the muddy pot of delirium and euphoria

Where I lay drugged

On the juicy floors of your feelings.

What are you?

Are you the red flower that kills my jungle?

Or the hail storm that breaks my nest?

So I find no place to rest;

Tell me, I cry!

I want to know

The name of all the tricks you pull on me!

It should be love, my heart is sure

While my mind in panic shouts - run!

Run so hard away!

I convulse instead and collapse;

Go into spasms, shudder and jerk

Fall finally dead, but in the arms of love

Only to resurrect again

And see my light!

Hey Carrot!

Ante-Script: Hey carrot! This one's for you!! :)

The first time I saw you, I felt the weight of Thor's heaviest hammer-bang right on my head. Ouuchh I shouted in pain and closed my eyes, touched my head slowly, thought my skull broke asunder into pieces, but it was all intact - thankfully nothing happened. But when I opened my eyes, the world had become beautiful. The feeling was indescribable. For once, I'm not joking. I could see colors everywhere in my otherwise bland two-dimensional life.

I like the way you sweetly push me outside the door, and quietly blush after I'm gone. You very well know that I'm going to come back for you, don't you? I could clearly see it in your eyes - how you are intrigued by all the weirdness in my nature and your longing to call me - mine. The way your eyes move between my eyes and my lips gives away everything you have been trying to hide. I can understand, but you have to please stop doing this - because I'm the type who goes for the soul first and later when the time is ripe, for the other things.

Promise you, we would kill each other with deep kisses - both rugged and smooth, fast and slow, and hard and soft; and I'm just going to eat you whole whenever you are hungry. Trust me, this would continue forever. Every time we get a chance, we are going to crush each other with the most romantic of hugs - even if our grand children would make fun of us. Note, kisses are allowed in public even in our wrinkled age, only if you are okay with not disturbing the dentures. Ah, few fairies are now hellbent on pulling my eyelids down to close, so I stop writing stuff here and continue planning the rest of the things within the boundaries of my dreams. So good night I say, and go to sleep.

Until I become a cartoon, and then come and see you in the city of Zootopia - love you!

Burnt Down!

One gaze and you burn me down. You swim into my heart like those hungry crocodiles that are adept with their moves to attack all the beautiful zebras that try to cross the river. I can sense you moving through my nerves and the very thought of it intoxicates me - leaving my eyes red and head numb. I see smoke forming weird shapes everywhere, and everything appears blurred except your countenance that turns from lovelier to the loveliest. I collapse every time you hold me tight and whisper those few words into my ears. The best defences of my heart fail terribly and I topple into dust like those twin towers.

It took some time, but now I know that I'm under siege; you have placed your armies round about - so it is impossible for me to even think of planning an escape. Quite clearly - I am going to get killed as love would swallow me up completely like a deadly python. There is no option left for me, but to cooperate and get thoroughly digested inside cupid's guts and metamorphose into someone crazy and special - only for you. If I ever think of resisting love, I know I would be consumed by the unbearable heat of brimstone, and see my instant hell.

The time of drizzles has set in, monsoon is on. The climate has changed - I could now clearly hear the sound of kisses, and those cute faces you keep making every time you blush or turn playfully angry - they brighten my soul like how supernovas bring merriment to the skies. You personify all the desires I have never been open about; you are all the love songs I have ever written. Keep watch, see the clouds turn black, smell the earth, don't lose a moment, wait for me - because the way I would meet and storm into your life is going to be epic; trust me, our grandsons and granddaughters are going to talk about it with all the pride even after we are long gone.

Hearty Avalanche

Mesmerized in your thoughts, I stumble at the elegance that overflows from the gleam that beautify your face. I see no flaw in you, there is no shade of dubiousness either. You strike me hard like how the warm rays of the Sun dry up the twigs, triggering a deadly forest fire. There isn't enough magic left in the grasp of my vocabulary or I could have easily expressed all the visuals that keep forming in my head about you. If ever you could take a glimpse into my mind, I am quite sure you would be awestruck at the imagery I have quietly woven inside me with much care. There is a wonderland that lays wait for your occupation, a paradise where all of your simple pleasures and other loveliest fancies would see the light of day.

My eyes are filled with you, I am drunk with the innocence in your smile. The way you twitch your lips when you passionately talk about all the things you like - has the same effect as that of bullets fired from a shot gun pointed right at a frozen mountain. The avalanche that comes down after, kills me a million times over. You are all the woman I had dreamt of all these years. You would blush if I told you that you are that spotted deer with a pair of chubby cheeks; the more I look at you, the more it drips honey from every sweetest comb hidden in the chambers of my heart.

I'm all set to infest your life with happiness and the best of laughter - only that you have to manage to find your way to my heart. Trust me, there is going to be surprises all your life - you have absolutely no clue about the thousands of tricks that I sincerely am capable of pulling to bring out merriment right from within your soul. As we hold hands and look deeply into each other's eyes sitting by the pond with our legs dipped in the chillness of the waters, you would clearly hear the lubs and dubs of my heart whispering to you that our eternal togetherness would - hold no threat of boredom, entertain no time to weep or be sad and negate all disappointments - but assuredly promise you a lot of madness, ridiculously overflowing humour, much teasing, wide-eyedness, awes, chills and tickles, kisses, snuggles, warm hugs and cuddles.

Found!

I want my eyes to close, it just cannot be open all the time. I want to jump into the fire, quench it like how cockroaches are killed with the press of a thick thumb, and belittle the fiery flames into a small heap of powdery ash and extinguished smoke. The gruesome death that is destined to kill me in the far future has already robbed me of my sweet life. Few nightmares have slipped through the rocks into the deadly bay, never to resurrect again but leading to a disturbing dull. The music is fled, taking along my shadows too with its eerily soothing ending notes.

How I breathe now, I do not know. I went in search of me to nowhere, but within my own self - circling around and banging my head to the thick walls of my conscience. It was pure horror and insanely frightful abyss. I was gliding into the dark and the gloom only intensified in its abject blackness as I skated into the depths of my soul. What are we, but mere men and women seeking deliverance and waiting for our redemption day.

It wasn't long before I realised that my sketches have been breathed into new life by a power that is incomprehensibly supreme. Those were the very images I drew of the monster that sat right in front of me in the guise of a sheep. I knew from the beginning that it was a monster, but I made a mistake - a mistake too grave that I even had the verve to adorn the monster with those artistic beauty touches in my pages that it almost started looking like an angel. I have to admit that it is after me now, haunting me to sleepless nights with the same questions and the same lies. So I started running, ran too fast - away from all the arrows from its armoury. Fortunately in the process I bumped into myself and finally found me. Sitting by the river that flew from my heart - allowing my limbs to be caressed by its chills, I kept splashing water all over me. Then I turned to look at me and when we saw each other, we smiled.