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;