No Time

The mirror tells me I’m still the same

Same as I was a second back

It’s hung there for a year or so

But it’s the same as it was a year back.

There’s no time, no time at all

No summer. No winter. No fall.

Can’t remember if I had a wrinkle a month back

The photos tell me… but the mirror just laughs

The present can’t trap what’s gone

It’s only the past that clings on.

The ant just lost a fragment of its life

as I stare at it for an hour.

But it walked almost a mile

While I sit sour.

Who would know the years

If the sun never sets down

Take off the past masking your fears

Smirk at that clock, turn time around.

There’s no time, no time at all

No summer. No winter. No Fall.

Counting seconds will make you lose an hour

Every morning you wait for night

And your bread tastes bland

‘Coz the last supper wasn’t right.

The monsoons you remember for the tears u wept

But forgot the spring that made you laugh.

What’s gone left a trail behind

And reduced your life to half.

There’s no time, no time at all

No summer. No winter. No fall.

The Ghost of Montockshire

He got up from his muddy bed

to find his favourite flowers wilting next to him.

Taking a whiff of the midnight air

for once he could smell the moonlight so dim.

He stood up on his dead feet

to find his pain all gone

The silence groped him

now, that he was all alone.

Realising he didn’t blink for so long,

he did it… just to feel human.

He breathed once more

to colour his skin so ashen.

No longing could hurt him now.

No wishes he wanted fulfilled.

Absence meant nothing to him,

for every desire in his dead heart was killed.

He knew not where he belonged.

He had forgotten the desires he longed.

“Was he happy?” was a doubtful thought,

since sad he definitely was not!

The wind cooed in his ears

The wild dogs howled out to him

He smelt life around himself,

but no scent of the same within.

Roamed the town aimlessly

in the chilly air of Montockshire.

Not a shadow did he cast on earth,

nor did his eerie attire.

Breezing past a hobo asleep on the pavement,

disturbing not a soul dead or alive.

Peace engulfed his every step,

since no sound could he revive.

The moon silvered his way

to show him some light.

But failed to show a similar soul

in his world of black and white.

Squeezing through the walls and the locked gates,

he knew not what to believe in.

Sight, smell and touch betrayed his senses

He fought a silent battle he could not win.

The sun never showed up on his face

It is always night in his eyes

Without choices he walks the lanes of Montockshire,

waiting to touch the sunrise

The wind whispers to him throughout

Since his journey has no end

The world of black and white will colour his life

In this town of Montockshire his death he will spend.

A Wonderful Time

Its such a wonderful time

When people do care

But it sometimes gives a fright

When you care to scare

How you care what Thomas is upto

In the middle of the night

And you even care for Bob

Who owed you and got out of sight!

Its such a wonderful time

When people do care

But it sometimes gives a fright

When you care to scare

Now why does Farah

stay all alone?

But when Ricki went over to her

You ran to the phone.

As you very well know

Wally got rich too soon.

You never cared before

But now you are best friends too.

Its such a wonderful time

When people do care

But it sometimes gives a fright

When you care to scare

Are We Free Yet?

As we progress towards the celebration of 62 years of freedom this 15^th of August, the only thought that crosses my mind is, ‘How free are we anyway?’ How many times have we actually tried to imply the Freedom that we won almost 62 years back? On a personal level I feel that Democracy is just another word for an Indian, inscribed in the so called Constitution that is remembered merely once a year used as an alibi for what can only be called oafish behaviour. It’s funny how we still believe, had we not lost our country’s wealth to the British we could have been the wealthiest and the most powerful country in the world. Sadly, not even half the population actually understands the true meaning of Democracy. A term which is just a mere definition in the school books and an organ forgotten even if it helps you carry out your daily functions at ease of hardly lifting a finger. I remember myself mugging up the definition of Democracy in school days,

A form of government

for the people,

by the people and

of the people.

But unfortunately, nobody bothered to explain the true philosophical meaning of such a heavy word. Maybe nobody wanted to explain it, since it just opens a can of worms nobody wants to see or accept. If simply put, it means that every individual has an equal right to live or to think in their own desired way and live life with dignity and self respect. I hardly find half the nation entitled to such rights though. The problem lies not in the corrupted ways of the government officials, or the government and not even in the stifling bureaucracy. It lies within all of us. The minute you try to correct some opulent bully with a shiny black car treating the road like a garbage disposal unit and you receive a painfully pleasing remark saying, “Tere baap ka kya jaata hai?”, that is the exact moment Democracy gets killed. One’s attitude towards any other individual irrespective of class, creed, color, sex or even wealth determines how democratic an individual he/she is. It’s not just about how much freedom you can exercise. It’s about how dutifully you exercise them. India is still behaving like an impatient bull released out in the open ready to attack any living soul with a blessed excuse called Freedom.

Simple examples like reality shows being taken to court, gay marriages still considered illegal in the nation, or useless quotas that do nothing but deteriorate conditions rather that empower classes, clearly mock the very existence of Democracy. Why can’t an Indian live and let live. And media can definitely not be blamed for the situation either since it’s the very reflection of the people it caters to. After all they show what sells. And the very Indian who buys the dirt, flinches at the very sight of it. It’s a pity that a word like Democracy is limited to a nation and surprisingly varies from nation to nation. The world can only rejoice the full glory of such a magical word if it were considered globally. Why can’t all the citizens of the world have an opportunity for Democracy since it definitely is a right each individual should be born with? It’s high time people free themselves of stereotypes and give an opportunity to every single being that desires one. And the day that happens, there will be what we call…

Freedom of Thought

Freedom to Grow

Freedom to Create

and most of all, Freedom to Live!

PLAYING GAMES

Open my eyes to see this red blob.

The closer I get, faster it disappears.

Reach out to catch it before it goes...

...in my hand the blob just sears

Counting the sheep just doesn’t help

So I start counting stars.

Finally I run out of them

trying hard but my sleep is sparse

Humming loud but in my mind

Bobbing my head from side to side

The tingly feeling in my head

and the smile in my eyes I cannot hide.

High up above or down below

I'll choose my path, I just need to float.

The sun kisses my face with a delicious smile

I can feel the touch of fairy gold.

I see colors of every kind, except all

Tapping my foot on nothing below

Feel a cold breath down my spine

Tickles through my veins they flow.