Commotion of Emotions

Overjoyed, anxious and scared, They arrived one by one. Desperate fools, in search of dreams - Crashed into the same column. With madness like no other, These characters did not bother, To be wary of the machine world, 'coz they found solace In how nature unfurled! Tramping elephants provided him tune, The bastard friend of all - Arjun! Plants and pollinators is what she'd draw, Pretty but not smart, Aparna. Flying with birds, swift as the cheetah, Our food and finance manager - Arpita! She's angry, but is happy when you say 'I believe ya' Cool, mad and stupid Divya. He comes out first - and when he doesn't, he cries The smartest of smart-asses - Farai! A scary woman, from a country red and green - The mistress no one can argue with, Irin A man that disturbs all with his explanations sick, Tedious, confusing, sometimes corny, Kaushik! At times scary, at times fun, always gracious, One who is in lov

It is subtle, It comes in many forms. The castle we wish to build, Lies on a cloud of storms! In hope yet we lay the bricks, In passion we stack them tall; The castle is close to complete, When the storm blows it all. It comes in all shapes, At times early, at times late- And takes away all the construct, That could've made a castle great! The blown bricks fall from the sky, Hurt heads and hearts all alike; And there remains no explanation, To counter the pain that strikes! But the castle wasn't meant for us - But for all that have been hurt; And it's not the bricks that matter, But the pain absurd. For Castles built in a day are weak, They crumble with the slightest crack; But only cracks accumulated overtime, Build something that new-fold castles lack! And when the castle has seen, All that is and could be; It is a sanctuary, a humble abode - For not us, but all that were hurt in its making!

In the chaos of tomorrow, We live today, Adjusted by compromise, Or so we say. With shields around our chests, And thoughts to play, We believe we are saved, But the heart is where the enemies lay! In madness and insanity, We grow up and grow old, We live on charity, Of the future world. Guided by incompetent wisdom, And guided by fear, To make a choice today, To the future we adhere. A future of our minds, A future that isn't clear, And we push away the needed, And hold the pain dear! Renegades write stories of revolution, Of freedom and of love, Now they are lost in evolution, Of time and time above. Someone bring them back, They are much needed now, Someone find their homes, Let them tell what the future is about. And bask in their light - a moment or two, Let the seeds of an abiding present sprout, Let the air be clean, And there be no doubt. The future terrifies us, The past haunts us do

Oh beautiful moonshine, Could you in time be mine? And keep me intoxicated, Through trembling tantalising time? Look, the sun is set to set, Is this not when we first met? The stars have risen to shower their light, But without you, nothing seems as great. If you were here in my tiny palace, I'd pour you open into the garnished chalice; Shake and swirl you in the twilight Dancing unafraid of all malice. But oh moonshine, the moon shines not tonight. Perhaps the benthic too miss this light. Because some have fallen for the dark, And Catharsis too is coupled with your sight! And this is time to dive or pull away, As I'm fixated on you across the alley, In love, lust, greed and opportunity, Should I go or should I stay?

                Do you think there is life after death?                 Do you think there is life before? Enough time has passed for me to be able to forget things. Yet I remember them, as clear as the first crystals of ice, sinking down a tireless landscape. In fact, not a day has passed when these thoughts haven’t crossed my mind. No matter the place, the time, the people, these memories always sit somewhere in the back of my head – crawling and scraping through all that is left to be called a human. In commotion the renegades sweep away places, but there are some hidden at the centre of the stage – looking over all; overlooked by all. And I wonder why they came to be what they came to be.                 Asha, a young girl, stands at the centre of the city bridge every midnight – ignored, attended by none. I first met her on the 21 st of December, when I sat on the same bridge with the whiskey beside. No security – all smeared by the holidays. One shot; Two shots;

I met a man from a distant land, He told me tales unheard of; Of clean air and clean seas, Of people living in harmony. Surely it is a lie thought I, Where hasn't greed overpowered guilt? But his stories and his innocence, Were allowance for my decadence! The world I come from, Has not much to do. There aren't solid houses; paved roads, There isn't pay, no work load. We reap what we sow, And share in times of need. Lentils, millets and rice, Is all needed to suffice. And time that is in plenty, Is spent in sharing stories; Of hardships in famines, Or of light hearted times. There's a river flowing through, A cascade we gather every moon; Sing hymns to the boisterous water, And the souls that it carries further. We care for all that's around, Or all that's around cares for us! We are the sons and the daughters, We belong, but nothing belongs to us! And atop the mighty mountain, Ins

Long had rode the Knight, Forever strong; never weak. Saddles and bridles shining bright, On a horse that every prince would seek. Her black armour glistening in sunlight, Carried by the epitome of lust - The dark horse, the epicentre of fright, So loved, when hated be it must! Whenever the rider rode past, Forests or villages or seas; Her curse held her mark, All life hid in the following breeze. But when she finally arrived, And called out his name, 'It cannot be death', he surmised - Hallucinations should take the blame Then again a whisper coarse, He looked around in fret; A majestic lady on her horse - How could such beauty be death? 'But it is not time!' 'There's too much left' he said What is work; what is time? All of life awaits death. Not your actions not your words, Would matter where I take you. You'll see how life is absurd, How its only made to break you. Enchant

I heard a knock, And you did too; I crawled through the floor, Why didn't you? I opened the door, No one to see; I heard you laugh, At my misery. I saw the words, You read them too, I climbed aboard, You left for good! All is to say - There's a voice in my head, But it's not me, I stand in the open, But I'm not free, And its guided, Not by senses or belief, But pain and misery! The root of all evil, The shoot of all love; Running generations through nations, Only thin wood up above. The ability to exploit, It knows not what it wants; Steering through dilemmas, Its a pleasure - to hunt! It calls you a hero, The saviour of the ones; Then stabs you in the back, And laughs as you stand stunned. All is to say - Loot, money or fame, Is the same - to blame Through tantrums and trains And all of your right, Leaves you in the fight, Fuelled by the voice, And its flight! And

In a creek I heard a sound, Went ahead to investigate; Stopped   midway, thinking- It was too late. Too late to keep moving, Or too late to stop; So I paused there, And I thought . What good could come, Of walking into it - Than returning, To the hard earned seat. What we want, Is insignificant; In a convoluted timeline, Words lose their meaning. So I walked on, through - Undifferentiated right and wrong; And the eerie noise turned, Gradually into a soft song. I stood at the corner, Thinking for one last time; For what I was bound to lose, Was considered a heinous crime! I walked in with dilemma, Well-guarded with a smile. The alleys croaked and screamed, As I stepped onto the tiles. And there shone a mirror, In it a reflection of my own. Mesmerised, I touched it, And the glass turned to stone. The soft songs of lore, Reduced back to moan, I turned to look, But all was gone. The i

Cemented, plastered and proud - The wall shines above all. No failures, no doubts; It's a marvel standing tall. Neither fire, wind nor rain - Can quake or scrape, This mighty wall, trained To withstand all shapes. Yet it is not the outside, But the inside that strides; When hell passes beside, The best too fall to their surprise. And now there's a crack - Crude, expected and neglected It grows a track, Where nature stands corrected. Pride, anguish and defeat - Unacknowledged, it fleets In the soul, every crevice and creek, Emotions to a masquerade retreat. The fire, wind and rain - Laugh at this countenance, For the rift is back again Life following its trend! And so clear is the rift, Yet attended by none; Apart the continents drift, Powerless, I stand stunned; Fear, pain on the air streaming, For something to be made, something must fall; And I can feel the wind coming, Through the rift

Many things have happened in the past. Things that should not have happened - but they did. Well, the world is not under my control; hell; not even I am under my control. But that is how it always has been and so here we are - staring at the beautiful sunset; Pretty; Nostalgic; Symbolic; but I am bored of it. I am bored of music. I am bored of talking. I am bored of myself. There isn't much to do in this tiny village of Mulai. For an old man like me, time becomes stagnant. Life is all but routine with no precedence. A routine of moments I do not want to live. Why should I? I do not want to spend the end years of my life whining as an enthralled pig. But is there anything I can do about it? Life after all, is not under my control. Sometimes I sit back and ponder on how I became what I am - I have all the time in the world. I cannot help but think how all desired reflections of life are balanced on critical tiny time frames. Where one silly mistake can break the refl

To be a philosopher, Is to love and hate together. Praise the Lord - While denying his existence; And stabbing your own back. It is a mix of everything everywhere; To know that you don't know, To live in minutes and seconds, And breathe through the skin, And talk with your eyes. It is a conflict, With the community inside! The brain; the conscience; the heart. To contradict self - And live in eternal enquiry. It is to talk, But to oneself - Indulged in self-inquisition. To stray away from the world, And be branded mute. Every day a war, Every word a battle, Every deduction a fight, Every green a blue, And every second a wrong! It is to question, What all take for granted; And deny, What all take for law; And sing about every flaw. It is to stand alone, And not able to explain why! It is to not know the difference - Between a gift and a curse. It is to believe and make believe.

They told me they would fight, Against all wrong; For what is right. But when time came tapping at their door, They merely watched - rooted on the floor. In chaos of routine the renegades walked slowly, Defiling the unsaid law, were beaten wholly. All clapped rooting for the law, Manifested with iron rods and knives and claw! There was a young woman I recall, On the train, at the dawn of fall, Reclined against a seat - watching outside, Perhaps dreaming all that we do, sometimes. There was a young man too, Newly in love, cheek by jowl they flew - When an old man pointed at her attire, "They're too tight, this whore's provoking desire!" It was time, when deference knocked at the door, But all they did was stand, rooted on the floor! Goons rushed to serve the elderly gentleman, Where stood the young man - stout and defiant! 'Insolent!' cried someone from the crowd, Voice incognito but loud. P

How pretty would it be, If all we were but dreams. Gliding hill to hill free, Away from our own screams. The sun would keep us warm, The moon would keep us awake, We'd sit together through storms, And what lovely days we'd make. Remember not the past, Worry only of the next hour, Smile with hearts racing fast, Laughing out loud - the only Power! Vox with our thoughts, And not entangled in them. No battles to be fought, No demons to tame. The world would be clouds, The earth up in the sky, We needn't hide in shrouds, We needn't smear in lies. We wouldn't long to sleep, For all we'd be but dreams! With no shadows creeping, Just you and me dreaming.

                “Look, Papa! A deer!” screamed Raghu with his hands vigorously jolting his father.                 “Sshh! You’ll scare it away son. It is a young gazelle” he moved his head around, trying to get a better view from the side window. “They are very shy and you are one lucky boy to see one at this time.”                 “Look, its staring at us” Raghu whispered, “I wonder where his family is?”                 “Stay put. Do not turn back. Any sudden movement will drive the animal away” he said rolling the glass down, using the driver control. Raghu felt a slight weight on his right shoulder, but did not bother to turn back, for he had transcended the real world. It was only the deer and he himself that existed. The unbroken line of sight; the thrill of looking into the eyes of a wild animal barely five meters away; the obscurity of a mind that worked, perceived and felt different than his own, was a puzzle that he could have worked on for ages. This exuberanc

There are people, Who can see the trouble, Empathise with the pain, Burst their bubbles, And burn down the drain - To rid the world of heroine, Or get high in the clatter of coins. There are those, Who see the best in all, Smile upon the demented soul - To stand tall, fall and crawl, And lift curses old; Living with heartless ghouls, Lusty, hateful and cruel. And then there are those, Who understand without words, And read the depths of your mind, Against the innocent idiots in herds, Who live and let live to waste your time, Gallantly striving together, Birds of bloody feathers. And so are those, Who can express, Through palms, fingers and fists; Amongst inappropriately dressed, The proprietors of cowardice. The silence lovers, Who hide in painted covers. And so are those, Who are alive and dead, Neither understand nor show the will. Fitting miserably in frets, Neither made nor designed for st