A Cup of TEA

the wife paced the kitchen,
going about the usual chores,
rinsing, chopping, mixing,
reading the paper besides.

and there goes the bell,
the maid arrives, late as always,
hoping to elude any bit of work,
the wife might have done in want of haste.

sweeping, washing, dusting,
in icy cold or sweltering heat,
it is a hot cup of tea which,
makes the maid work, uncomplainingly,
an incentive, a perk, by the wife.

the wife calculates, a cup of tea,
half water, half milk, a spoon sugar,
the maid savours, sip by sip,
the warm texture, the refreshing aroma,
caressing and massaging the aches and sores.

on some day, the wife paces,
going about her chores,
but the bell doesn't go, however late,
the wife frets and fumes,
but resumes to her fate,
though it might be icy cold or sweltering heat,
cleaning, washing, dusting,
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but strangely on that some day,
was there left now,
an extra cup of Tea.

I Go To WAR !!

I go to war,
day in and day out.
An armour on my head,
A prayer on my tongue,
And I am off.

A battle-field it is out there,
Masses of metal and rubber,
Competing for vital space,
Edging, sneaking and snaking,
Any damn move to head the race.

Inhaling the heat and smoke,
from silencers that make noise,
The more they spew and rumble,
The more I tumble and grumble.
The lesser I live for another day.

Turn left and beep-beep,
Turn right and honk-honk,
NO, it wont stop,
Only until they drill your head,
and squeeze the life out.


curses upon curses,
threats and intimidations,
one dare not be a saint,
it is best to don the war-paint.
survival of the fittest it was,
rule-flouters now it is.

what after this all?
don't look for accolades and all,
if you still have the drive,
if you still have the breath,
that's more than what you want!

The ONE who SANG

The one who sang
The songs fuelled with life,

The one who breathed
The notes which made us fly.

The one who serenaded
With the moon and hearts alike

The one who hummed
The tunes that never die,

The one who cried
The tears that left us dry.

The one who drummed the rhythm
That pulsed through our veins.

The one who smiled
With all those who swayed along.

The one who stirred within
The depths which we couldn’t reach.

The one who hints reminiscence
Of things that passed by.

The one who plucked
The chords that held us forth

The one who resonated with all
Which no barriers could hold.

The one who sang,
Which we all dreamt to.

The one who sang,
Which none could sing.

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dedicated to the prophet of the only religion that I believe in

The Golden Age

raghupati raghava raja raam,
patita pavana sita raam,
eeshwar allah tero naam,
sabko sanmati de bhagavan.

there was once a golden age,
in this modern era, for India,
no, it was not perfect,
divided by caste and wealth it was,
riddled with hunger and poverty it was,
blinded with lack of mass education it was.

Why then was this the golden age you ask?
it was because 'WE' came before 'ME',
just fresh from birth, this ancient land arose,
gently, slowly, but with a resolute force,
life was simpler, there was no mad rush,
we can only run along time, but not overtake it.

a mass coscience prevailed,
a sense of direction was laid,
to which the people as a whole,
toiled and worked hard to reach.

where now is this path?
'WE' now is all but gone.
there ain't no leader worth his salt,
there ain't no cause to drive us more.

why is it that we need a disaster to wake up?
only to sleep again as the moments pass?
unity in diversity we claim,
patriotism is reduced to a lame game.

Arise, Awake and Stop Not Till Your Goal is Reached,
screamed a man, a long time back.
Please oh friends, I plead,
let us do something worthwhile,
it is not the destination where you want to reach,
which matters the most,
but it is the journey, which speaks,
it is that with which you become You.

I LoVe YoU

oh yes,
I love you,
I do, I do, I do.

so lucidly delectable,
so savouringly succulent,
so unabashedly indulgent.

your scintillating fragrance,
your irresisitble magnetism,
your cogent seductive traps.

with you,
Saturated I am.
without you,
Emaciated I am.

With You,
My senses go Wild.
Without you,
My my, I go blind.

Do not test me more,
I surrender, I succumb,
Come tingle these buds more,
Come bring them to life once more!
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khwaja mere khwaja

khwaja mere khwaja,
sing and i sway,
dil mein samaaja,
come elevate me,
shahon ka shah tu,
you are the lord,
ali ka dulara,
the emotions that prevades us all.

tere darbaar mein khwaaja,
in this vastness of space,
noor ko hai dekha,
the beam of effulgence,

tere darbaar mein khwaaja,
in the limitless bound,
sar jukate hain auliyan,
ego disappears.

chahne se tujko khwajaji,
yearning for you in earnest,
oh khwajaji,
grasping only these threads,
of music left behind,

mustaffa ko paaya,
I transcend,
I disappear,
I exists no more..

FILTH

in the midst,
of this sea of squalor,
a sordid path I walk on,

so much a part of me,
I wonder,
will it ever break asunder,

I wonder,

what is this?
a sense? a perception?
why the distinction?
here this mirth and filth,
and there,
the freshness and sweetness,

why? why?
why this urge to purge?

there, here, everywhere,
that which is within,
is wrought out,

from the depths,
where we cannot to,
reach out.

LiFe

ONE word,
The World.

The One Question,
No One Answer.

A zillion variables,
Nothing ever certain.

A string of individual moments,
Bound by allotted time.

A struggle, an instinct, a dream, a lackadaisical chore.
A passion, a pain, a chimera, a heaven.

One huge mass, a big bang
An endless expansion, creation and destruction.

A Surrealistic harmonic dance,
Rhythm reverberating pace. 

A concoction of the elements, 
A random combination and lo! Behold!

Life, life everywhere,
An urge to survive, to learn, because it is there.

Past, present, future,
Ideas, thoughts, and more to pour.

An end? A random end?
What does this serve it all in the end?

Another question, but it’s just the same.
All are essentially the same.

The one question,
No one answer.

It won’t change.
It’ll always remain the same.

Travel Safe- the answer