Little Fawn and Her Adventures

Little fawn stood next to her mom,

Drinking the sight of her new surroundings,

That is peaceful and calm.

Suddenly a wasp appeared from nowhere,

Attracting little fawn's attention,

Who hasn't seen anything like that anywhere.

She peered carefully,

At every movement of the wasp,

Unaware that she had strayed away from her pack steadily.

The wasp disappeared into bush,

A lioness appeared instead of tiny wasp,

Looking scary and huge.

With eyes closed tight,

Little fawn screamed,

While she shivered in fright.

Suddenly herd of mumbling buffaloes arrived,

Seeing them, lioness ran away,

Leaving the little fawn relieved,

In safe custody of her Uncle Buffalo and his herd.

Dreams

Across few blocks,

Stands tall and colossal,

A building named The Royal,

Which is home to a girl with coffee colored locks,

Unassuming and Docile.

She watches out of her window,

Staring blankly at sky,

That is clear and sunny,

While she dreams on things to do,

If she had wings to fly.

She would soar up,

Away from the silly world,

That laughs at her every flaw and blunder,

And makes her feel want to give up,

On dreams she had carefully stitched.

She would spread,

Love and Joy,

To places ripped,

By war and misery,

Conflicts and poverty.

She would remove,

Fears and insecurity,

Engulfing everybody,

And instill in them hopes,

To fly high.

Weekday Blues

Every week, it's same old thing,

'Mondays bring no joy', we sing,

While Tuesdays ,Wednesdays and Thursdays seem bearable,

But during Friday evenings, our patience level seem negligible,

Waiting for the weekend to spring.

Long gone Youth

His eyes are still bright,

Though he cannot see,

Clear blue sea,

That brushes him slight.

His ears still longs for that voice,

So melodious and mellifluous,

Now he has no choice,

But listen to nature's raucous.

His lips are dry,

Like the barren land,

They curl up into smile,

As he remembers sweet memories of holding her hand.

His bald head shines,

Which was once filled with hair,

Long, thick and fine,

Waving and dancing in the air.

Youth held his hand,

Like gorgeous trophy wife,

Making him beam with pride,

While his ego grew leaps and bound.

One fine day,

He woke up from his dream,

And found himself alone,

With no one to care,

Only memories of past

That were once so sweet.

This journey called Life

There will be hiccups,
And there will be smooth landings,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.


Relationship you once sowed,
With love and care,
May break apart,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.

After season of good times,
Comes the severe drought,
Making us desire cool breeze,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.

Success and Failures,
Are part of picture,
That is bigger and brighter,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.

People will say,
Words of wisdom or folly,
That may take you up,
Or pull you down,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.

The cycle of sorrow,
Will end surely,
And bright sun will shine,
Over you,
In this journey called Life.

What shall I write?

What shall I write,

I think casually,

On cool Friday evening,

With my eyes open wide,

Staring at empty post,

Blank and bright.

What shall I write,

I ponder and wonder,

While rejecting the ideas,

Wandering in my mind.

What shall I write,

A poem or short tale,

That makes one smile,

After coming from tiring day.

What shall I write,

To satisfy my creative cravings,

And love for written art,

On this lazy Friday evening.

What shall I write,

Is puzzle on my mind,

Unsolved and untouched,

Like a hidden treasure.

What shall I write,

I think restlessly,

While time flies by,

And my hubby arrives,

Hungry for dinner,

That I am yet to cook.

Summer nights

On cool summer nights,

The breeze is feast,

To hot bodies,

Burning due to heat.

It's that time of year,

When we lay on terrace tops,

To watch stars twinkling,

And bright moon shining,

Above us.

During those nights,

Closed ones get together,

To share juicy stories,

Or make false spook tales.

Waking up till odd hours,

To watch first ray of light,

Fall on our tired faces,

As we cuddle in our thin blankets.

It's camping night,

On terrace top,

For days until holidays end,

And we are back to monotony,

Of our lives,

Back to school,

With mind full of memories.

The Gossipmongers

Insecure and desperate,
With lives of their own,
They ruin others smile,
By spreading lies,
To bring smile on their face.

Juicy scoops,
Of that girl next door,
Or colourful tales,
Of that guy who looks rouge,
They are never short of any lies.

Walls have ears,
Because of them,
As they snoop behind doors,
To watch the dramas,
Of other people homes.

They are like wild fires,
Spreading quickly,
Entertaining those not involved,
But Destroying houses of ones,
Tangled in this mess.

They spread news,
Like game called Chinese whispers,
Changing the stories,
Adding flavors,
Wherever they like.

They are found everywhere,
Within your social circle,
In form of nosy relatives,
Or toxic friends,
Or jealous colleagues,
And day will come,
When they are victims of their own actions.

The Ego and it's friends

A tiny little desire,

to scale up higher,

grew larger and bigger,

with ever step.

Ego took place of desire,

In form of wildfire,

Burning relationships,

And anything that came in it's way.

Ego bought in its friends,

Lust and arrogance,

To corrupt mind,

With all things evil.

The pride arrived,

When ego appeared,

From the same seed,

Called tiny little desire.

When mind got disillusioned,

By the mirage of success,

Anger seeped in,

With his sister hate.

From these nine emotions,

Greed was born,

To trap the soul,

To confinements of  misery.

Suddenly hope arrived,

From spiritual blessings of God,

Burning each negative emotion,

Replacing them with kindness and submission,

To Lord Almighty

Other side of the world

Grass is greener,

Air is cleaner,

Life is beautiful,

At the other side of the world.

She looks happy,

He looks lucky,

And everything looks good,

At the other side of the world..

The plate is  served golden,

Filled with delicacies,

And sweetmeat,

At the other side of the world.

Cities are wide,

Filled with riches,

That is enough for generation,

At the other side of the world.

Tables get turned,

Life looks lacklustre,

What seemed nice once,

Looks dull and dead,

Once you reach the other side of the world.

Stop whining,

Stop complaining,

Grass will always,

Look greener and brighter,

At other side of the world.

Save the world

We cut trees,

Thick and green,

That was home to animals many,

From ant so tiny,

To leopard so ferocious,

For our greed that's limitless.

We build tall buildings,

That are taller than mountains,

But not higher than our egos,

With only purpose,

To fulfill our desires,

And appetite that's limitless.

Every inch of land,

Is burrowed and unearthed,

In search for gold and other precious stones,

Or for erecting magnificent palazzo,

To boost our pride,

And pretentious legacy.

Water is polluted,

Air is poisoned,

Soil is contaminated,

Due to our heinous actions,

And reactions to our sins,

Which we will one day pay for gravelly.

After years of torture,

When life is becoming extinct,

Humans have woken up,

And walking on the streets,

Giving emotional speeches,

While they continue to pollute the world.

With clock still ticking,

Words won't work,

Unless we commit,

Each one of us,

To make the world better,

Not just for generations to come,

But for animals,

Whose homes we have destroyed.

ss

It's Friday Night

It''s Friday night,

Time to unwind,

And bid farewell.

To the work spell.

It's Friday night,

Time to get high,

With laughter and smiles,

All the way till the sun is up high.

It's Friday night,

Time to forget,

The struggles of life,

And enjoy every moment like it's our last.

It's Friday night,

Time to tick off plans,

To getaway that's nearby,

Or just plain long drives .

It's Friday night,

Time to kick that ass,

Off to dance floor,

Swaying up our hands.

It's Friday night,

Time to heal the pain,

And get back with new energy,

To restart again.

Smoggy skies

I wake up in morning,

To sky that seems foggy,

I open the window,

Waiting to feel cool wind blow,

To my dismay,

it's just hot air.

The sky is dull,

Like cold November in London,

With sun missing in action,

And birds chirping in morning.

It's like summer in winter morning,

Dull but not cold,

With air covered in smoke,

Dust and polluted particles.

Where does this dusty wind come from?

You may ask,

Is it from the burning of garbage dump nearby,

Or from the forest fires faraway?

Whatever it may be,

Our world is burning,

By global warming,

As we sit in man made safe heaven.

Sea level is increasing,

Wild animals are dying,

Forests are turning into ashes,

And if we don't act now,

Life will come to an end,

And world will become barren.

Pretty Face

Red Lips,

Big wide smile,

Hides pains,

She carries in her heart.

Lotus shaped eyes,

That shine in her eyes,

Conceals those tears,

She had shed last time.

Her pink cheeks,

Painted by layers of makeup,

Burying the scars,

Caused by years of struggle.

Her dark black hair,

Wavy and Curly,

Though she wishes,

It were straight and perfect.

Her long legs,

Every girls envy,

Which she protects,

From her self doubts.

Her pretty face,

Round and full,

Slight wheatish

But nothing ordinary,

Yet she feels unhappy,

Comparing her own beauty,

With standards set by virulent society.

I Write Stories

I  write stories,
Of childhood fantasies,
Wisdom and morals,
That touch your heart.

I write stories,
Of orphaned girl,
Looking for love,
Throughout her life.

I write stories,
Of lovers separated,
By their political views,
And bureaucratic family.

I write stories,
Of oppressed Kashmiri Pandits,
Who lost their land,
And everything they cared,
To the tyrannic monster.

I write stories,
Of girl next door,
In search of Mr. Right,
With her friend,
Who is head over heels for her.

I write stories,
When I am very happy,
I write stories,
When I am very sad,
I write stories,
All the time,
While sleeping or wide-awake,
While walking or sitting,
While eating or drinking.
And When the passion is high.

I write stories,
Of horror encounters,
With spirits so evil,
Revengeful and spiteful,
That can give you nightmares.

I write stories,
Of an anxious man,
Who never steps out,
In fear of being dragged by a monster.

I write stories of boy,
From small town in Thailand,
Who becomes a girl,
At local crowded bar,
To earn quick money.

I write stories,
Of bored housewife,
Who chances upon solutions,
That can solve million problems,
Of country she belongs.

I write stories,
Of a warrior,
From Vedic Age,
Cursed by powerful sage,
To be born as mortal.

I write stories,
Of troubled youngster,
Who falls in trap,
Of false beliefs,
And becomes a terrorist.

I write stories,
Of beloved pet dog,
Who runs away,
In quest for adventure,
And becomes a hero.

I write stories,
Of spiritual journey,
Of  chauvinistic  atheist,
Who turns into devout bhakt,
By the mercy of God.



I write stories,
When I am very happy,
I write stories,
When I am very sad,
I write stories,
All the time,
While sleeping or wide-awake,
While walking or sitting,
While eating or drinking.
And When the passion is high.

Cravings

Hot chocolate on chilly rainy day,

Tucked in blankets from top to bottom,

Watching favorite movie on rerun,

Is what I crave right now.

A long drive on empty roads,

At the midnight,

With stars twinkling in the sky,

And my beloved on my side,

Is what I crave right now.

Sleeping peacefully on my mum's lap,

While she sings a lullaby,

And brushes my hair softly

Is what I crave right now.

A new adventure,

To place undiscovered,

Making new memories,

And friends who will be besties,

Is what I  crave right now.

Watching a horror movie,

On Friday the 13th,

Relishing how good wins over evil,

Is what I crave right now.

Cravings are desires,

Sweet and spicy,

Innocent or naughty,

Increasing the adrenaline,

With every passing minute.

Life gives you lemons

Life gives you lemons,
Sometimes bright and yellow,
Sometimes green and raw,
Sometimes large or small.


Life gives you lemons,
You either make a lemonade,
By mixing sugar to the juice,
Or you complain,
Why it's too sour?

Life gives you lemons,
Offer them to someone,
Who has been punched,
By blows of sorrow.

Life gives you lemons,
Enjoy a glass of lemonade,
At a sunny beach,
Watching the clear blue sky,
Meet the sea.

Life gives you lemons,
Cut them into half,
Squirt the disappointments,
In their eye.

Life gives you lemons,
Don't get mad,
Thank life for it's precious gifts,
And use it to make wonders in life.

Let’s travel !

Let’s travel,

The snow capped mountains,

With breath taking views,

And watch sun melt,

Into golden hue.

Let’s travel,

To sun kissed beaches,

And breathe smell salty air,

While we walk hand in hand,

On soft beach sand.

Let’s travel,

The thickest forest,

Filled with species,

You never seen,

Embarking an amazing adventure.

Let’s travel,

To busiest carnival,

Enjoy local sweets,

And meet new people,

While we play merry go round.

Let’s travel,

Faraway east, 

Or unexplored Africa,

Or any new places,

Which we have only heard and not seen.

Let’s travel,

For fun,

Or to getaway from monotony,

Or to fill our lives with memories,

And tick off wishes from our bucket list.

Long Drives On Late Nights

The night is young,

And stars are smiling,

While we ride,

On road so wide.

Oh these long drives,

Makes my heart cry,

Out of excitement,

And enthusiasm. 

The roads are empty,

As we speed at hundred forty,

There is no one to stop us,

From having fun and zest.

The cold air is blowing,

The music is playing,

The time is flying, 

And fun is never ending.

Long drives on late nights,

Makes my face bright,

With happiness and pride,

And everything nice.

Life can be boring sometimes,

Take a ride often times,

To a place unknown,

For quick unwind.

It’s Namo again

He came,
He conquered ,
He won,
The hearts of many,
With his dedication,
And love for the country.

His simplicity,
His hard work,
His modern outlook,
His vision for the nation,
Strengthen the trust of many.

Fools belittled him,
Greedy defamed him ,
Egoistic called him thief,
But that didn’t fool
The smart public.

Whole nation is struck,
By the Namo fever,
Filled with the same vision ,
As our people’s leader.

It’s victory,
Of the people,
Of truth over lie,
Of  growing nation.

The song of Krishna

The night is young,

And the women,

Old and colleen,

Wander aimlessly,

In search of melodious tune,

That stole their heart.

They left their homes,

Their families and friends,

Unafraid of danger ahead,

Only to get glimpse,

Of that boy with flute,

Who stole their heart.

It wasn't his charming eyes,

Or his sweet voice,

Or his childlike innocence,

But the music he played,

With his flute

That stole their heart.

The stars are shining,

As well as the moon

Guiding them along,

Path amongst woods,

That could be dangerous

And poisonous.

At last they find him,

Sitting below Kadamb tree,

Playing his favorite tune,

On his flute,

Enchanting everyone around him.

He is not alone,

With him is Radha,

Who is enchanted like them,

Sits with her head,

On his shoulder,

Looking more beautiful.

Past, present and Future

As I move one step ahead,

My mind moves backward,

To the past,

So dark and downcast.

The future is bright,

Says my heart with pride,

But my mind fails to accept,

Instead rejects every prospect.

The mistakes I made,

The errors I committed,

The defeats I experienced,

Is stuck in my mind.

My present is affected,

And everything is complicated,

Because my mind fails to accept,

The bright prospect.

I push my mind,

One more time,

To the world full of possibilities, 

Opportunities and positivities.

This is not the end,

I say to my mind,

I still have my present,

And future that will be pleasant.

The song of God

His pointed ears stood up,

And his head tilted slight,

Like he always did,

When he was pup.

At the sound of their song.

He ran excitedly,

Towards them,

And watched them,

Sing song and dance joyfully.

Their song seemed familiar,

So did their dance,

And this triggered,

Him to trance,

To memories of his past life.

He was human,

Just like them,

Except he had attachment,

To desires unlike them.

He had traveled many places then,

And heard the same song,

Glorifying Lord Krishna back then,

But he did something wrong,

And was paying for his sins now.

Back then, he was attracted to God,

And wanted to turn into new leaf,

But he was blinded by grief,

Hence his sins distanced him from Lord.

He came back to the present,

Forgetting the pain he endured,

Feeling fortunate and content,

For listening to the song of God.

He danced and swayed,

As well as howled,

To their song and dance,

While his heart filled with benevolence,

At the sound of Lord's Holy name.

And those who live each moment

Tiny little moments,

Precious and dear,

To the ones,

Who live each moment,

Like it's their last.

That sweet smile,

On the lips,

Of our dear ones,

Gives us pride and joy,

Which is everlasting.

Those fragrant smell,

Of colorful flowers,

In my mom's eternal garden,

Makes her beaming,

With pride.

That great happiness,

Shining in blind man's eyes,

When he sees,

The world for the first time

Is very childlike and ecstatic.

Life is like,

Box of surprises,

Filled with little sweet,

And little bitter times.

Take each bite,

Savor it like a blind man,

Feel pride like my mom,

And those who live each moment ,

like it's their last.

The success mantra

The sun may not be shining brighter,

The storm may get stronger and stronger,

But my heart will still go on,

With the fight against the odds.

There will be rough days,

When things won't work as per my ways,

But I will remain calm,

Even when my heart is ticking like a bomb.

People will speak,

To make me freak,

But I will stay deaf,

And listen to myself.

Failures makes me tough,

And sometimes I want to say enough,

But I won't give up,

Because it's no or never.

My plans may not work,

And my backers may avert

But I will not stop,

Until I reach the top.

Victory is possible,

For not those who are eligible,

But for those who don't abandon,

And keep doing until it's done.

Every Love Story

A girl meets,
A boy of her dreams,
On rainy day,
Or on sunny day I think,
At the rusty bus stop,
Or best friend's wedding.

It's first sight love,
Or  are they foes turned lovers ?,
But sparks fly anyway,
Between opposite poles,
And love blooms,
With every passing day.

They meet secretly,
Hiding from their besties,
And even their families,
Yet that evil cousin,
Reveals their treasured truth
Adding his/her distorted lie.

They part ways,
Or become one,
By their families,
Friends and companions,
who either are on their side,
Or against them.

Every love story,
Has two individuals,
Fall in love,
But part ways,
When poisoned by,
Their false egos,
Third wheel in relationship,
Or irrelevant expectations.


Every love story,
Can have happy ending,
When two individuals,
Fight their struggles,
Help each other,
And stay together,
With a promise,
To be there for each other,
Forever and always.

Those gossip mongers

Those gossip mongers,

are like Page 3 reporters,

ever ready with news,

on half truths.

Those gossip mongers,

are like scavengers,

always preying,

on discarded past

of others, of course.

Those gossip mongers,

are like players

of Chinese whispers,

distorting stories,

with their own words.

Those gossip mongers,

are like investigating officers,

always on lookout,

for new stories,

on who did what.

Those gossip mongers,

are twisted messengers,

always eavesdropping,

and snooping,

on other's business.

Those gossip mongers,

find joy,

in other's sadness,

or other's sufferings

unaware their grief,

could be hot discussion,

for someone else like them.

Monday Blues

It's seven in the morning,

Time to get in on the action,

With brushing and dressing,

But mind is still in inert-ion.

My eyes are half open,

With strong need for sleep,

As I try to awaken,

My heart is weeping for more sleep.

I sip hot tea slowly,

Counting the days to weekend,

There are five more days totally ,

Weeping my soul exclaims, "There's no end".

It's one of those Monday blues,

Where everything is black and white,

And there is nothing new,

To look forward in delight.

Come soon, dear weekend,

My heart cries,

I have no intend,

To say goodbye.

This time will pass

The sun sinks slowly into it's den;

The once blue sky is turning red;

The rays were bright back then;

And moon will rise instead.

With cool winds brushing my hair;

It's time to relax and unwind;

And play a game of solitaire;

Or meditate with fixed mind.

But distraction of unsure future;

And mistakes of gloomy past;

Will I be able to move ahead sooner;

As minutes of this lifetime last ?

My feet tingles on touch of the wet grass;

And I know this time will pass;

Memories

Those carefree memories,
Preciously imprinted,
In our minds,
And our hearts,
Reminding us lost times,
We miss greatly.

Those lovely afternoons,
With slight cool breeze,
And that bright sun,
Smiling at us,
As we chatter and prattle,
Reminding us lost friendship,
Distanced by egos.

Those colorful pictures,
Of us smiling,
Holding hands,
And posing funnily,
Reminding us lost laughter,
Hidden by grief.

Those serene gateways,
At sunny beaches,
Or snow capped mountains,
Or unexplored heavens,
Reminding us lost peace,
Replaced by tiring work life.

Those first time,
you held my hand,
Or called me mom,
Or  walked on your own,
Reminding me lost joy of motherhood,
That will never come back.

Life is full of memories,
Some we cherish deeply,
Some we miss greatly,
And some we grieve intensely.