THE DIARY OF A 20 YEAR OLD - VI

I HATE SHARING!

 

I was 9 years old when I saw a friend of mine using my pencil which my dad gifted me on my 8th birthday. I never used it. Something in me made me run towards her. I snatched away my pencil and broke it into as many pieces as possible. My friend saw me with horror. She picked up her bag and shifted to another bench. She never talked to me again. I regretted of acting so miserably rude. I changed my school soon. I don't remember much about that girl now except that she was really a good friend of mine.

My mother gifted me a tiny brother when I was 12 years old. It made me enrage with anger when I saw my mother kiss my brother and feed him. She scolded me often and I had to share my toys against my will. I hate the tiny beast (I thought). I hated my mother for sharing her love that earlier belonged to me only. I laugh aloud now thinking of how immensely crazy I was. I love my brother more than anything incredible!
I am writing this not because I regret about how I was; but because I have not changed a lot since then. There are still many circumstances which arise daily when I have to share my belongings with my friends , relatives and strangers without my will.
But am I really writing this only because I am jealous often when I see my things in hands except my? Not really! There is something which is terribly disturbing me from within. There has to be something serious and logical.
It was the day I entered my college. It was the greet of a tall handsome guy that started all the hazardous miseries in my college life. I have always been a soothing and sensible kiddo of my parents and my teachers in school. But there was something infectious in that ''hi'' which smashed my life into bits. I soon fought with my boy friend and destroyed the relationship I always wanted to be since the last 3 years. I was bound in a feeling which never was a friendship but I was afraid of calling it love. Why?
Alas! That was the worst thing I ever did to myself. The tiny creepy feelings that already managed to infect my heart were hazardous and life threatening.
I soon realized I was sharing him with another girl. whoa! It was she or me. I knew it. I let it be her. I respected her. She loved him more than I did. I wanted him to be happy. He was happy with her.
:)

Soon this feeling dropped down to pure friendship which soon got engulfed in the hatred I developed for him ; I am afraid ; I don't know why I hate him. We don't talk. I don't know why but I fail to be the natural me in his presence. Its disturbing and irritating. Still I love to be around him. Its freaking and crazy.

But true enough, I won't ever  learn to share things! ('_')

 And if I talk with attitude- ''I  prefer donating than sharing! ''

 

 ('_')....('_')('_')

 

THE DIARY OF A 20 YEAR OLD - V

I HATE GETTING MOLESTED!
 

Me , my brother , and my parents were casually roaming on the streets of kolkata in this auspicious occasion of DiWaLi.

Presumptuous were we that even in the darkness of moonless night; nothing worse could happen to us among all the million people on road.

We ate , we enjoyed , we complained of severe ligament pain but we walked!

The streets were decorated with big banners of light works.

Twinkled twinkled the little lights!

The pandals were huge but generalised. The stages build beside them played presto. The idols of goddess Kali ( one of the several deity and wife of lord shiva ) were featured incredibly.

Nothing annoyed me. Neither the loud music and sudden onset of bursting crackers ; nor the shoulder brussing crowd.

Annoyed me few guys!

Those stupid creatures pushed my brother who eventually collided with me. They kept giggling and turning back to see the fumed- me and called out names.

They were in a massive group of around twenty boys.

I felt a sudden urge of breaking each one's teeth. I felt like trashing each one down on the street and run buldozer over them. My anger reached higher proximities with each passing second.

I kept watching them while walking behind them while the foolish-they kept laughing and abusing the passing young girls.

I noticed a gang of special road police about 100 metres from where I was standing.

Running to them would have acclaimed their notice. I decided to walk silently.

The air suddenly candied and I was feeling much better thinking of what enormous damage I would do to their careers if they incase studied in any college or institute.

We breathing hairy creatures have cognate from the same divine being up in the sky. But the diversity in each's character and behaviour is solely due to the environment we get since childhood. I thought.

Those 'khaki' wearing men are looking out of the world. (^^) I thought.
My parents were yet to know about my plans. Out of no where (they thought) I screamed at the policemen.
They soon were caught in anxiety and horror. The horror of a young lady shouting at them for being molested despite of their honorable presence.
I showed them attitude. I walked ahead with my parents who were still too shocked to understand anything.
Might be that I reacted a little too much. Might be I made a drama out of nothing. But I still believe I did no mistake.
The policemen started running towards those casually walking guys and caught them by their collar. 
The highly amazed people walking aside us wondered what was happening.
Soon a crowd of people surrounded those loafers. I walked super-boldly [;)] towards my so called criminals.
I stared them and they stared back. Fought I with my un-blinked eyelashes. Fought I with them. I shouted at them. ''How dare you call me a name? How dare you taunt me? Don't you have a sister at home? Don't you have a mother? You bloody scoundrels! What did you people think? Not every female keeps mum to your daily nuisances. You wretch dogs! Just keep your creepy habits in your pockets when you walk on public roads. You like bastards should be hanged till death. Bla. Bla. Bla.''
Silent was the whole ambiance. Furious was I but my throat ached. Enough!
The policemen took their charge over me now and made those decayed-from-within-shits stand in a single straight line.
I don't know why and how, but a little line escaped my lips, '' Leave them after giving a last warning''.
This was something against my evil will. But somewhere I knew they did nothing as compared to the daily crimes!
Sins like-
rapes,
female foeticides,
dowry,
bridal suicides and murders,
prostitution, etc.
are programmed and accomplished in a wholesome amount daily and in fact every minute.
I truly don't regret even a penny of being a lady.
Enormously contrasting are the poems, portraits and festivals we rejoice depicting the supreme power of a women.
I thought the whole night that where did it started and where will it end?
Alas! I still lay clueless to the miseries of a NARI (female).

THE DIARY OF A 20 YEAR OLD - IV

The vivid festival of lights is knocking at the door yet again.
Incredible indeed it is!
We Indians call it ''diwali''.
We Bengali call it ''kali pujo''.
Since morning I helped my house to look a little more beautiful.
I decorated it with tiny lines of lights of several colours- red, green, yellow, white, blue and pink.
Lastly I overcame the misery of connecting all the lines to one single plug.
Switch on!
Whoa!
I did this?
The tiny bulbs started twinkling.
Off!
On!
Amazing are the lights. Amazing is the creator of these.
This auspicious day is marked by a moon-less sky.
The darkness is fought back with trillions of candles, diyas and lights.

The epic of lord Rama returning back to ayodhya after an exile of 14 long years is known to all.

But what irritates me are the evils we fail to analyse in us.

The festival does not demarcate between religions and the people following it.

It demarcates the evil and cupid parts of a society.

Every occasion brings with it several reasons to celebrate.

But what seldom misses our consideration are the values it conquered years back.

Respecting our parents and elders.

To be honest.

To be sincere to our works.

To avoid conspiracy.

To be friendly to friends.

To be less demonly to enemies.

To sleep less. Study well.

:D

My dumb brain revolved around my daily schedule.

But there are yet many heart throbbing evils to conquer.

Starting from female foeticide to gang rapes!

Starting from child labour to aborting parents!

Starting from kidnaps to murders!

Phew!

To write and read the society problems is unnecessary but immensely easy.

To fights back the troubles is necessary but tough.

The cloudy Almighty destroyed all evils in a single thunder stroke.

We are not given such powers. Devoiding self from evils is not a big deal though.

Apart from the nuisances I have decided to scribble down in my ''don't list'', I have also decided to think a little above my selfishness.

:D

Its not just-a-festival that we Indians celebrate.

Its ''the-festival'' of sweets and hugging each other.

Its ''the-festival'' of joy and lights.

Its ''the-festival'' of colourful rangolis and crackers.

Its ''the-festival'' of praying for prosperous life.

Its ''the-festival'' of good winning over evil.

This single day of gregariousness is long awaited.

Trying to purge from within my thick rooted devils, I am still rejoicing the holy aroma in air.

HAPPY DIWALI!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE DIARY OF A 20 YEAR OLD - III

I see him often staring at me aimlessly. I really have no idea if he stares at me with charm or disgust!
I am afraid of counter interrogating him directly.
But my friends told me he still wants to talk to me.
Few others told he still hates me.
I did nothing to owe his hatred.
Or may be I did a lot of nuisance which he could not tolerate.
It could have been a beautiful friendship between us.
Alas! We are die-hard enemies now.
I feel like shitting at his face. I don't know if he is worth my hatred.
It started with just an asking name to late night talks.
It started with giggling on a joke together to dancing at the fresher's stage in college.
He still owns the same girl friend and I own my boy friend.
Where did it mess up then?
We still could be best of friends as I addressed him and wished he remained the same.
But everything abruptly ran out of place solely due to some misunderstanding creators.
I hate them too.
But I knew the truth and never denied. He should have done the same.
He kept boasting out the secrets between us to other non-sensible persons and disturbed my mental peace.
A clapping sound is never produced unless two hands merge with force!
It happened the same way between me and him.
Somehow we forgot where our intimacy boundaries should end.
It never would have moulded into such an uneasy disaster.
I often precipitate seeing him in the same classroom bench.
We have no group photograph together.
I don't regret the times I thought am lucky to have him.
But the torturous bet between us of who-comes-to-talk-first is unhealthy and wretch.
I insulted him cause I came to know he calls me 'names' at my back.
I instantly forgot the tiny names he called me with when we were 24*7 buddies and how much I loved those names; the name!
Envious of us were many people.
Envious of me is he now.
His name gives me nightmares!
My colleagues have yet not stopped giggling and calling me names at the site of him and me together somewhere by fate's disgrace! 
I don't know when this phase of my life will end.
I wish it ends soon.
Not that I am dying to talk to him but I wish this foulness to end.
I want everything to become normal and fall back to place.
I have always wished him to be happy with his girl.
Fighting with me at the site of my happiness with my man was insane.
Phew! There is still a lot in the depth of my heart to share.
I am afraid. I can't share all.

 

BEING A SCANDAL MONGER

Scandal's dictionary meaning is a feeling of indignation and surprise.
Being a scandal monger is being one who listens to scandals or experiences miserable journeys and shares to each and every one he feels like sharing.
A feeling of desolation creeps into my mind whenever I dispatched vomit out of the window of the bus.
This incredible bus had no glass pane over the window and I was expected to enjoy all the moods of nature while travelling ; might it be the sun rays or be the storm dust or be the drizzle droplets or be the chilly winter breeze. I imagined the owner of this bus as a briber who might be paying 100 bucks to each and every policeman coming across for twp alternate reasons.
Focusing on the first reason brought a instant smile because the policeman surely would have vomited first time ever in his life, thus the bus driver is being charged for his nausea.
The second reason might be that to avoid such an unpleasant charge sheet again, the driver provides no bus stand stoppage wherever he locates any other policeman; hence the policeman already evoked notes down the bus number and catches it at the bus depot thereby charges the driver again.
Reconnaissance of why the bus was performing such circus jerks, provoked me to hastily behave un-womanly. I stood up eventually to enquire the conductor if I was on the correct bus to my grandmother's place. He nodded his head as he was busy chewing beetle leaves. His teeth were completely dark scarred and my sense at the sight of outburst of red chewed beetle from his mouth over the people around him prohibited me from approaching him further.
The graceful and enchanting moves of this bus endowed me with all sorts of stupid imaginations. The zestful jerks made me linger at the back seat from left window to the right one and again aback to left one simply like a pendulum.
I stood up again to glimpse if actually the road was guilty of my condition. To my astonishment, I found the road a smoothly gliding highway like. I again mingled my thoughts as to why the bus was jerking this way.
I vomited out once, twice, thrice even. The driver whose I could watch only the bald forehead with patches of gray hairs marking the arena from one ear to other was enjoying his drive. This havoc vehicle was ruining me like hell when suddenly I found all the colorful people around me fading and few seconds later they disappeared completely and I found myself transformed from sitting position to sleeping one. Those painful jerks were still there. I swirled my upper extremity and ended up being thrown from my couch to ultimate floor, hence my mother punishing me for waking up so late!

THE DIARY OF A 20 YEAR OLD -II

Urgh! When on earth will these trains stop being late?

Never ever have I experienced a journey on time. Punctuality persists only for the first few hours after the train bids bye to the station platform. After that it gradually slows down ; halts at vivid places like jungles and slums for hours and eventually fails to run on time.

What fumes me are the hawkers and insanely screaming slum kids who manage to slip into the non-air-conditioned train compartments.

Even if you are not an early riser ; you find yourself awake at the dawn hours and stare at people aimlessly.

No doubt the picnic trip kids enjoy a lot in train. Their constant chatter and giggles often become the sites of all visions. Some like me stare at them with disgust while others ( I wonder what made them so generous) poke their nose in each and every topic they hear the kids discuss.

A whole gang of footballers continue to toss footballs and a whole troop of fashionable girls comb their hair after every few minutes.

As a whole the passengers in a train are simply incredible as is the train! 

While I was cursing the people around me I shifted my view outside the standing window of my running train. The agitated me was lost somewhere.

Beautiful!

The saffron sun was fully awake now spreading its rays. The green creatures underneath breathing the warmth.

Whoa!

Shallow within me were my fums. I was cold. I smiled.

Almighty is great!

He made these beautiful scenarios. He made me. He made these insanely shouting people around me. As a whole he made this earth a lovely place to live in.

(He made brains in man and man made this train but I wish it ran on time.)

THE DIARY OF A 20 YEAR OLD - I

PHEW! I am totally pissed off!
My mother screaming at my father and vice-versa.

Often i wonder why the hell are they together.

I remember my mother narrating me stories of their ''love marriage''. The smile she showers while doing that is incredible indeed.

But at the very next moment; no other site iritates me to my nerves when I see them fight at some silly egoistic issue.

Since child, I have seen my mother suffer a lot due to us(me, brother, father).

My father no doubt is a wonderful person at heart. But I don't really remember the last time he went unnoticed by barking at my mother over a stupid topic.

I and my brother have always fought back against him whenever it has been a fight without brains.

Somewhere though I still love him more than my mother and the guilt of betraying him pinches me; every time he stares me with his cold eyes begging for support.

I don't want  him to believe that I have taken my mothers side forever but just want him to acknowlegde my mother's deeds for the family.

I wasn't born in a very rich family but my attitude never said I am poor. Not because I am egoistic and love to boast but because my parents kept no stone unturned to provide a very rich atmosphere to their kids.

The commotions in my family are nothing to be proud upon. They are held in every family. But to analise the reason behind it is really tough.

Its not that writting on them will solve everything but somewhere I strongly beleive that someday it will end.

You must be thinking I didn't get a topic to blog so am wasting your time. But it is really not so. Being the elder kid of an always fighting couple is tough!

According to my mother, the only reasons she still is entangled in such a miserable family and with such a disgusting husband are her kids.

I strongly oppose her saying she loves my father more than she loves us.

My answer is never opposed back!

Nothing iritates my brother though, who still manages to dance around while my parents are fighting to lighten the gloominess and make them laugh.

He is a sensible child. I have often seen him run to terrace when conditions become uncontrollable.
I earlier use to run behind him thinking he would harm himself but realised it soon that he is humble enough to not cause any disaster over his family but very weak at heart. He runs to terrace so that while shedding his silent tears no one sees him.
I know writting all this is totally insane.
There are crores of important topics and agendas in this world to ponder upon and write.
But when one's own peaceful heaven turns into an upside down hell, there is nothing one can think except bringing all back to normal.
My feelings for my family were never priggish and pretentious.
The cheerfulness is so britle and crisp these days ; lost somewhere.
The only giggles heard are that of me and my brother often at some silly joke or nasty television serials.
I wish all of us laugh together again. I strongly believe we will soon sit around the deserted dining table and share coffee from each others mugs again!

 

LOVE FOR BEING LOVED

To divulge about self ,

is to divulge about the biggest entity.

No one but you ,

know the reason about every knot untied in your life.

You know everything about your past , present , future.

You liked enumerable ,

you adored many ,

you loved few.

You laughed , you smile , you shed tears.

You shared some ,

you kept unshared a lot.

Monotonous can be no body's life ,

yours is the same.

Heart does a rhythmic beating ,

so does your fate.

Vulnerable to all kinds of emotions.

You fall , you rise , you walk again.

Everyone loves you ,

they will hate you someday.

They help you succeed ,

they will be envious of your success one day.

You are breathing now ,

you will be dead the very next moment.

You know everything , still pretend to be ignorant.

God has made you someday ,

he has a count of your beats.

Live your beats to the fullest.

Let others live their beats to the fullest.

Earn blessings , give blessings.

You think you are unique?

Its not because of the name you inscribe aside your doorbell.

Its cause of the love you gather cause you someday bestowed them too.

 

 

 

TERRORIST

He smiles.
He shed tears.
He breathes.
He sleeps.
But never can he be called a human.

He has a mother.
He has a child.
He has a wife.
He has a father.
But never can he be called a family member.

He attacks.
He destroys.
He snatches.
He kills.
But never can he be called a god.

He is a bruiser.
He is dangerous.
He is cold-hearted.
He is dreadful.

But never can he be called an ultimate devil.

 

For money once he fled away.

For being called rich; he had sway.

He hates self for being a killer.

He kills his soul every passing day.

But never will he be pardoned anyway.

 

His family curses him every hour.

His return will still be a pleasure.

Though he has caused them millions of misery.

Though they know he is a bloody looser.

But never will they want him to hang from the highest tower.

 

He was born as any other normal human.

His mother has fed him alike her other children.

He has stained self in game of blood.

The crackers exchanged with bombs and gun.

But never is he blessed long life by his mother insane.

 

He thinks he is brave.

Terror has created in him the slave.

The defiant slave against humanity.

His eradication is a necessary wave.

But never will he surrender till he is dig deep in his grave!

 

 

 

 

LADY DEATH

You write about love.

You write about flowers and dove.

You write about life.

You write about the beautiful bride.

Ever have you written on death so divine?

Or have you always thought her predestine?

She is a curse ; thought you.

She is an ugly demon ; screamed you.

Begged you ; to keep her away.

Worshipped almighty ; but she did not sway.

She rides a white silvery horse so beautiful.

Surrounds her the air chilly and cool.

She has wore a thousand jewel stuck crown.

Seeing you she does nothing but frown.

Mesmerised you walk to her briskly.

She grabs your soul slowly.

Tears it off from your earthly body.

Her face so enlightened and holy.

She wears a golden gown.

Throws your body harshly down.

Orders your soul to sit at her back.

You wonder why your conscience earlier lack.

She kicks her horse for a heavenly ride.

You hold her tight with your eyes open so wide.

Death is so beautiful you didn't know.

Thought you ; it was just a countdown show.

The horse brings you to heaven.

The path it knows from age eleven.

Welcomed were you with aroma of roses.

Giggling of the deceased and chirping of the closest.

Didn't know you ; being dead was so divine.

Living was difficult ; called dead is so fine.

Beautiful  is the lady ; so is her empire.

visits she but with a horror in shrine.
 

 

 

 

 



 

IN NEED OF AN ANSWER



Can I ask the seraphim of my delusions ,

why couldn't I commit rectifiable omissions ,

though which still gift me pain ,

incompetent when I am on the lonely lane?

 

With the ineffectual land of melancholy ,

and inherited misapprehend staring deadly ,

can I ask you my seraphim ,

where gone the precursor of my dream?

Where beauty is born of mute , insensate things ,

and life in it does prehensile;

O! seraphim of my delusions ,

couldn't I had my fate predestine?

 

  When I was left with betraying isolation?

Why didn't passion engulf me in allure?

Why wasn't I allowed to live precocious?

I need an answer from seraphim of my delusions!

I approached with friendliness and cared ,

still I was an element who interfered ,

I am honoured to ask you my seraphim ,

why the deadly scab was not overwhelmed?

 

Now when i prolong to forget ,

the days longer than years that i regret.

Why do you tend to leave my delusions ,

and make obsolete life bear no implications?

The etiquette of explainable feeling ,
seems to lack in the seraphim of my dealing ;
then just let me ask you my last question.
Why life for me is yet not an extinction?
 

 

 





I AM ON THE NINTH CLOUD TONIGHT

I saw you.
You saw me.
I passed a smile.
You returned it to me.
I touched your fingers.
You hold my hand.
I am on the ninth cloud tonight , I am.

 

You saw me.

I saw you.

You flew a kiss.

I caught it tight.

You spoke to me.

I saw your lips move.

I am on the ninth cloud tonight , I am.

 



I saw you.

You saw me.

I bid you bye.

You bid it back.

I dropped my tears.

You wishpered , ''don't cry''.

I am on the ninth cloud tonight , I am.

 

 

I HATE YOU

I hate to see you in peace.

I hate when you smile.

I hate you.

I love to see you drenched in tears.

I love when you stand in pain.

I hate you.

I love to see you lonely.

I love when you are in mess.

I  hate you.

 





I hate to see you alive.

I hate when you breathe.

I hate you.

 

I love to see you fail.

I love when you are being ditched.

I hate you.

 

I would cherish the moments I see you no more.

I would love when you die.

I hate you.

 



STOP THINKING

With chin over my palm.
I briskly think of my life.
Brevity of some sort is smashing it down.
Smashing it to lifeless minutes.
                                                           

                                                                      Breezy air has transformed into storm.

Estuary to painful brine.

I wish i could hold all changes.

Never would a tear scroll down.

 

 



 

 Responsibilities grabbing me tight.
Facial expressions doesn't change at all.
I eulogise of those childhood days.
Never did I think at all.

Money though luscious to soul.

My brain can't give up its thinking.

If my heart could stop bleeding profusely.

I would have frozen its feeling.

Life is molding into a beautiful me.

Still am ashamed of my selfishness.

Of all I can do to lighten this sane soul.

Is to stop thinking so tenous.

 

DRIZZLY LONLINESS

I woke this morning.

Discovered  my window panes wet.

Thought I cried the sky.

Open wide my window.

I saw nature's beauty rise.

Rejoiced the flowers and leaves underneath.

Green was all that I could see.

And plenty of colorful butterfly.

Thrived my mind to join them all.

Ran out of my rug and pillow.

It was a drizzly morning.

Never did I feel it before.

Divine was the breeze.

It cleaned me all.

Amidst those spherical tiny droplets.

I stood all alone.

 

HER ILLUSION

 

She just saw a mirage on an empty desert land.
She ran to it bewildered over the sand dunes destroying them.

She was about to reach when he again mislead her.

He disappeared and she found no trace of him.

Existed neither him nor the sand dunes.

 

No precipitation ever had squeezed out the life out of where she was standing.

She closed her eyes and swayed her breathe out.

Her head ached and feet burned.

She sat down like a lifeless doll.

Seldom did she smile.

Earth beneath her all wet.

Dusty , hungry , thirsty she.

Dying she.

Dead was her illusion.

Often an urge to stand up straight woke her.

All she saw was never ending earth.
Dried her tears before streaking down her cheeks.

Eyes half closed and eye lashes all wet.

'He' was running towards her with superiority and strength than others.

She smiled and slept again thinking it was a beautiful illusion.

She slapped her for seeing the impossible over and over again.

He came closer, kissed her forehead

and picked her up with gratitude.

His eyes wet.

She smirked and said,

''you are not late.

You kept your promise.

I can still die with you caressing me and

I lying over your lap''.

 

COME BACK

 

 

A tear streaked down my cheek.

My eyes could not hold it longer.

O DAMN! I still cry.

Your absence besides me hover.

I miss those endless talks;

giggling on silly jokes;

hand in hand for hours long;

eyes pained but didn't drop.

Cursing you for being late;

because u once made me wait.

O DARN! Come back now.

Am waiting the longest wait.

I slapped you for driving wild;

for dying was all i scared.

Lend your lap for a minute now.

I'll tempt to end my breathe there.

Chocolates and pizzas I didn't share.

I admit all was unfair.

Begging you a last chance.

Just want to enjoy your satire.

Honest I accept were always you.

I combat and mislead you with false tears.

Trust me I didn't intent wrong;

but I'll pay back all your defeats.

Sand had our legs droop in.

I quarrelled for not going back home.

Regretting those fights when you carried me.

Hugging you tightest should have I done.

I told you am sorry for everything.

''Can't forget you'' is my tag.

Come once atlleast on my funeral.

You'll see it inscribed over my heart.

 

STONE - A LIFELESS PIECE OF ROCK

It sat there with face down.
The rays were warming up.
It burned under the cruel sun.
Didn't utter a single complain.
Its mistake was it didn't breathe.
It was the dead creation of god.
It was the road side 'stone'.
It ws a lifeless piece of rock.

 River water spatter it again.

Still they say it didn't drink.

It woke up rinsing its eye in suprise.

It was among vivid beautiful organisms.

Harmed they each other but it remained unharmed.

Still it wanted to be among those breathing creations.

It knew it was just a wet river side 'stone'.
It was a lifeless piece of rock.
 

 A crying child kicked it hard.

                                                          It silently jumped high in pain.

                                                          Fell amidst the garbage scattered.

                                                          Thought it why the child cried.

                                                          It earnestly prayed for a single second life.

                                                          Unaware was it of the bitterness being alive.

                                                          Cause it was the tiny pebble 'stone'.

                                                          It was a lifeless piece of rock.

 

Came there an old gray haired lady.

She caressed it like her only dead child.

Cried she but silent tears.

She narrated all the pains suffered.

Listening was it; though dead.

Thanked almighty for not being alive.

It was the caressed 'stone'.

It was a lifeless piece of rock.







A DUST

A dust in air,

settled with a drop of rain.

Asked it bewildered,

"Ouch! why did you hurt me?

I was flying up in the sky.

 

 Could have flown till zenith high.

Why did you wet me, rain?

Answer me before you dry."

 

Smirked the rain drop.

Kissed the dust with pleasure.

innocent it was but wasn't ignorant,

about the rituals and fate.

Said it calmly but did console,

''How well could i help?

When your flying wasn't destined?

You are a dead ambiance.

No right to fulfil your desire.

I came in time to stop you.

To stop you fly high.

You will be blown away far across.

Cry will your native mother."

 

Timidly replied the dust.

"I wanna grow big.

Wanna see the world around.

Though my moving away

will make my mother cry.

I can't help my curiosity,

about the colours and their shine.

Wanna kiss the cloud.

With the swan wanna fly south.

Wanna burn under the hottest sun.

Chilling cold will surely be fun."

 

Dried the rain.

It was dead.

Dust missed its company.

But its little zeal couldn't die.

Came a blowing wind

ans it flew high.

Winked it at the wind.

Directionless was its journey.

But it went flying to explore.

Promised it, its mother sobbing,

"I will come back 'mommy'

with a grown up me."