Disillusioned

if i bang my fist in d wall,
wud it dent arjun singh's chin?
even if it did,
with the help of some voo-doo,
wat help wud dat be
to the issue at hand?

but dats wat i m doing,
cos i kno that protests are ineffective,
and rallies are such a sham,
petitions are mere formality,
and movements are always a failure.

i wud prefer sighing at injustice,
and saying "this must stop,
i wud be told y dont u do smthng,
n i wl say "deres no point".
a colleague would crack a joke,
and i wud laugh,
close the newspaper report on the agitation,
pack my bags, go home,
and d next day wud be d same.

why? u ask, cant it be any dfrnt?
and i tell you, "u r such an idealist, my frend.
not me, i'm 'disillusioned'."

wanderlust (finally, a poem on my favrt topic)

as i sit in dis cubicle
n think of things far far away
one sensation runs through my spine
repeatedly,
urging me to get up,
abandon everything keeping me occupied,
n set out,
on a journey unplanned.

a journey on which i see places i've only heard of,
or seen in pictures;
or maybe even those i've never heard of,
meet new people in old lands,
peep into their lives,
leave a part of me there,
and take a part of them along.
hear a new poem, learn a new song,
feel d waters of a new river on my face,
feel d wind atop a new mountain
ruffle my hair,
enticing me to stop right there,
but i see a new village in a valley nearby,
and i descend towards a new experience.
i wanna see, i wanna hear,
how tagore's songs keep women happy in the fields,
how kids derive joy from jumping in puddles,
d rain dat i complain of as i get wet on way to work,
how does it make those kids jump with sheer joy.
i wanna hear d bauls' songs,
i wanna follow them to see their life,
ive heard their society is different from ours,
what that difference is, i wanna see.

ive heard deres a pond or a spring behind every house in kerala,
how happy would dat make d ppl living there.
ive heard ladakh has d world's highest motorable roads,
do d ppl there really feel "on top of the world"?
ive heard in d desert u cant see anything for miles,
but the sand,
if i lay in the sand
would u be able to see me,
or wud i also become a small part of the vast desert.
ive heard it never stops raining in mawsenram,
i wanna see do kids jump in puddles there as well.
ive heard wives of sunderbans' fishermen
pray for their lives ever time they go to fish,
i wanna see what they feel,
when i tell them of the comforts i live in.

as i talk of comforts,
like a camera zooming out,
my mind has come back to the city i live in,
back to my work,
back to my cubicle.
is dis a place which has me tethered?
or is dis d source of d wanderings of my mind...

sahara pranaam!

lamha

use to chhor aaya, but lamha chura ke,
chupke se,
jeb me rakh lia.
raat to takiya ke niche rakh ke soya,
n subhe se baar baar use jeb se nikal ke dekh raha hu,
aur yuhin muskura raha hu..

d fly

Its lovely to see you shooing away that fly from my face,
I thank the fly for coming back again n again n again..

khwaab

aankh malo to ojhal nahi hota,

haatho se chhoo lo to ehsaas bhi ho jata hai,
madhoshi se hosh ke safar me kahin kho nahi jata,
zehan se na mitne wali yaad bhi ban jata hai;
arsa ho gaya us mulaaqat ko,
par taj mere liye aaj bhi ek khwab hi hai..

Why dsnt smbdy let her in?

The PVR Priya complex presents a strange picture. On one hand u have the huge multiplex itself, the restaurants, bars and showrooms for the ultra rich; and on the other, u have gobar-lined streets. The powers responsible for all that fertilizer share space with the unsuspecting love birds who are constantly vulnerable to bringing some goo home on their shoes. Whether the beauty of the 'posh' Basant Lok is tarnished or enhanced by this bovine grace, is not for me to comment on. Its for u 2 feeeelllll..just visit the place and take some of it home..

call

hundreds of things to do and say
missing altogether from my life today.
unheeded till now, not anymore
i've got a call from far away...