Calculator

Calculator

Click, click

Clickity click

I’m Mr. Calculator

I calculate

Add up the smiles

Bracket your secrets

Divide your pain

And minus all the hate

That’s what I’ll do

That’s what I am

I’m Mr. Calculator

I calculate

Use the power within

 To give thyself soul

Use your fingers

And control your own fate

That’s what I’ll do

That’s what I am

I’m Mr. Calculator

I calculate

Use your memories

To behold your future

Multiply your knowledge

Equals to your state

That’s what I’ll do

That’s what I am

I’m Mr. Calculator

I calculate

Let me calculate

The meaning of love

Simplify the conflict

And algorithms of a debate,

That’s what I’ll do

That’s what I am

I’m Mr. Calculator

I calculate

Let me learn

To use myself well

Let me have a pounding heart

Let it pound for humanity

And peace and knowledge

Let me see only what I

Dream and know of

Till I sustain my heart rate.

Because that’s what I’ll do

That’s what I am

I’m Mr. Calculator

I calculate

Blessed with a mad husband

Blessed with a mad husband 

He trumpets

And he shouts,

His quarrels

His confidence and

 His doubts

Her beloved husband

Drooling and drunk

Then to rid the house

Of his stench

She would seek a skunk

His bubbling face

His bone shaking breath

She would conceive

Slowly at times

Feel his forehead gently

To check on his health

But he’d shout

Shout even harder at her

Love is not a symphony

He knows

His hands are all

That moves to show love

Wherever he goes

He drinks

To forget the things

The ones he could not be

Then drinks some more

To conceal the reality

Too blurred to see

He brags

To her, all about

What he has done

She listens and “humms”

Knowing,

There are none

She was blessed!

Blessed with this

Mad husband long ago

Two children on the account

Whose eyes still sparkling

Their father, vigor

He has no guilt

Of not being able

To put up smiles

On his children and his wife

A drunkard he is,

Submerged are his actions

Submerged is his life.

Cold game

Cold game

     I walked through it all, that day! A maze, a silent village, hidden under the persona of a ruthless city. It had everything to offer you; love, kindness, peace, anger, fear and happiness. It goes inside you and opens you up like a fresh blossom, within you and then you soul is the boundary. Your eyes become the boundaries of your imagination. And your legs become your ride into the trance.

     Everything that you see succeeds in mesmerizing you, touching you and moving you. The newly paved pavement, recently planted shrubs and fast painted light poles. The covered up pot holes and cleaned garbage-corners. The polished leaves and the exiled dogs, who were allowed to mate, by god. The road is so empty yet so filled. So clean! Yet so artistic. The opening hours of a small-built vegetable shop, vendor. The dreams of the woman, owner, who probably is a mother of two or more waiting upon her back home. Her own shopping list though, is the matter of thought.

     There were masks on sale. A lot of them, wooden, strong, small and big masks on sale. Carved to perfection. Still incomplete. Someone laying out there, a man of age with nothing but drizzling, bone-chilling morning mist to cover his blue body. Sound sleep-drugged body. A careless and carefree body. Scars and medicine.

     The melodies ringing in the music shops of blissful serenity, brings the chill right into your arteries. The calm words of the houses and the roads, who are worried about how they aren’t going to be able to talk all remaining day till midnight! You reach places, but the scene is same, the sounds are the same. Your legs are tired but you heart is strong and your eyes are curious. The temple horses, kings and queens, wood and metal everything is cold today. Silence and eloquent. Proud but beautiful.

     And you are the little master of your own dimension. You are the game and so you play. What a cold game it is, you think !

I am

I am

            I am the appetite of hatred. I failed to find where I fit. Do I try hard? I do not know. I don’t even know do I even try? I fail! Not that everyone doesn’t fail.  But I fail, even when I know that I am failing. SI, I fail. I fear failure and am one of those who cannot afford to let his dream fall, fade or fail. I do not fear hatred. Because hate is feared by the weak hearted. I lost love, a love that lost to lust. But never lost! Here!

          Tears lost, tired, but that’s good. I cannot afford those as well. Thoughts changed. Now I don’t believe that the tears and blood of two people is the same. Blood maybe! But I found that there are tears of a black heart and some tears with reddish tone. Colors fade! A black that is the result of white faded, me!

          Dreams die, desires die along. One moment you’re able to imagine yourself flying like a bird and the next, you fall so deep that you have to call yourself for help because no one else bothers, care or can. Even the lord!

          Questioning your faith will get you into this circle of faith. Much like a cycle! Tormenting your weakness and willingness to see power in the unseen, to let you be gifted with what you deserve, and in my case for say, justice.

          And I tried, with much success now, to keep myself as busier as possible. Busy with myself. Self-actualization, they say! But no, can’t I lie to myself? Just once in a while? Shouldn’t I let my feet off of this boots leading me to my dreadful destiny, like of everyone’s, of course, shouldn’t I?

          The answer always remains unanswered, no matter how strong I become, no matter how much cold I withstand, I fail to understand the mathematics of a smile. The science of social acceptability and the chemistry of love. I am what my mind wants it to be and only what I don't try becoming.

The Brightest star

The Brightest star

The moonlit silver,

Below the ocean

Or the great blue

The lightest, I’d seen

Your illumination outshines their shine

The color of all colors, Oh lord divine,

I’ve shrunk in the deepest purple,

Listened to the million shades of green

Darkness of black was all white could offer,

Yet not white as your tears had been

Red was the color that you drenched

And now flows through my heart,

Yellow’s madness led me away from you

Its rattle made my hands short

Burgundy, pink, violet and magenta,

None could give the love you give

Oh lord, my Jesus, you’re my brightest color,

The color I sought, in you, till I live

Being a fiddler’s friend

Being a fiddler’s friend 

     He mocks, he slams, he sings, he fingers and he strings. My friend, Oh fiddler! The little notes he knows, dives me into this wild imagination of a Woodstock artist, or perhaps…

He drills into the melody of Narayan Gopal and does with class and with devotion enough to make it comparable, at least, for a friend.

      You get to carry his love of life once a while. But it is too heavy an effort for you! And yet you do! For the sake of doing it. But when he gets one with his love, it seems, they were never two.

      He speaks less. But you would love his voice, the voice of his entwined with his own. The audible bliss or so you would feel.

You get to see his beard getting longer every next time you see him. And with his beard you see this immense growth in character and knowledgeability. So much as to astonish you sometimes.

      You would envy him, for I know I do! Not jealous! But envy yes! It forces you to mock yourself sometimes. You cannot aspire being so. And to live your fantasy, you sing along. In a tempo so cautious as not to alter his decibels and to attract other meditators towards this awry mix of two definition of voices. You surely would not want that. You look at him play, he looks at nobody. With tightly shut eyes he gardens himself, he masks himself and lives. You stare and see him live.

Your love

Your love

You scream,

With joy and love

Without patience but 

With loud eyes

You see

the wonders of deception

the masked compassion

upon the buried lies

you hear only

the arrows of the cupid

piercing slowly and slowly

into your heart

you understand

only what you've been dictated

only what you hear

but, boy that truth is short

your love

 was a race,

you thought of only winning

that too

 with bare feet and

feet upon feet

you, Oh fool

are a horse being run

open you eyes

stretch you back and

look upon you,

there's a demon

 for you to meet

And you don't

Don't see him do you ?

your eyes

they're not yours too!

And they are

his eyes

his mind, his words!

So i see now

the deception is complete

the illusion is true

And you laugh

with his set of teeth

on his jokes

on your own fate

less you care

of how he is

what he is

his mockery of love, his betrayal

his soul's past state

He, has done this,

To someone already

To someone you see

Given smiles, yes!

At the cost of a soul

Left undone then

Miserable and drenched

At his feet

Trembling for lost love

And yet you see

His soul not at foul

Your silence

Is your undoing

Your sin,

A love upon someone’s tears

has less days to go

What goes,

Comes back

With a bigger burden added

For the sake of justice, godly,

This, you fool,

Should at least,

Know !