Amidst fiery battlegrounds,
Where wolves roam free,
She stood brave and strong,
Facing squalls of envy.
Fearless, she drew her sword,
Unnerved by deathly winds,
She charges ahead with vigour
Swiftly within an eye’s blink.
‘Twas a battle of filthy lust,
She fought with hallowed silence,
Wearing armours of virtue and trust
To end this smutty pestilence.
With fair grace did she lodge,
The pennant of pure victory
Though death she couldn’t dodge
But immortalised in human history.
Did you hear the cacophony,
Of men burly ‘n’ wearing tights,
Who swore by common ancestry,
In mature yet mindless fights?
Over sour ale did they chatter,
Questioning the fancy regime,
That gave not a full platter,
But doses of a hollow dream.
Their fists they banged with might,
While the tapers flickered with fear,
To an uprising that was alight,
For castigating the pitiless royal tier.
With pitchforks, axe and spade,
The bastion they stormed in a flurry,
With a war cry of profound hate,
As the horizon blazed with fury.
“Execute ‘em all”, they roared,
Dashing the china to smithereens
Stagecoaches and satin all burned,
Ending the loathsome regal reigns.
Sharp and graciously refined
Walking with steps speedy,
Symbol of elegance well defined
He is a man of thirty.
Sporting a bonny coiffeur
And a suit so royally navy,
Shoes shining like silver
He is a man of thirty.
Apple of his friends’ eye,
Candy of ladies pretty
Always with spirits high
He is a man of thirty.
Echoing a boyish charm
His laugh breaks all monotony
A personality so deeply warm
He is a man of thirty.
Carefree yet so matured,
Values and emotions saintly,
Making you feel assured.
He is a man of thirty.
Time has stood still today,
Frozen with thy words, mocking,
Crude ‘n’ coarse than dried hay,
Spewing deep hate so shocking.
Etched hastily on this pasty note,
“I dost not any love for you”,
‘Twas a verdict you wrote
My life into shambles it threw.
Was I a tawdry plaything?
An article of fleeting pleasures,
Cast into the alleys stinking
An object worthy for beggars.
Sweet words of fancy passions
Thy promises of endless ties,
Were they mere pretentions,
Thee uttered in our love nights?
In faith my soul I pledged,
Surrendered to your free will,
Your wish with grace I obeyed,
Yet to befall this ordeal.
For thee I shall though wait
Through the eternal realm of time,
Destiny cannot but join our fate,
‘Cause the heavens know you’re mine.
The blessed sun of spring
Bloomed with mellow beauty
Evoking innocent feeling
Of love, peace and serenity.
As darkness bids fond adieu
To morning’s golden haze
Blue birds twittered notes a few
To usher this pristine phase.
Gentle breeze hugged the trees
And whispered secrets of life
As flowers in a bid to appease
Stood to greet the merry wife.
Sunken eyes that opened wide
Gazed with a dreamy guise
Unnerved of the wordly chide
Lost in a lover’s paradise.
Ever since he was a child, Aditya had hated the rains. Not only did the dull gloomy weather give him a horrible headache, it also dampened his mood. A feeling of suffocation used to engulf him the moment the dark clouds loomed over the skies, all ready to pour over the parched earth.
He used to watch his friends clap and jump with joy when the sparkling drops of water with their grandeur fell to moisten the arid land. But for him it was some kind of torture that he was being subjected to. The very sight used to make him feel low …it was as if the rain like shards of glass pierced through his heart and stole his spirit.
On such morbid days, it was a common sight to see Aditya either spending the entire day in bed, or sitting all by himself, lost in thought about the most obscure things. The monsoons were his biggest enemy. A vague sense of irritation, frustration and other negative emotions used to consume him. It was like a curse that had been cast upon him for life.
But today it was different. As he sat by the window of the bedroom of his rented accommodation, a strange sense of joy seemed to seep through his heart. He placed his finger on the window and gradually traced the path of a water droplet as it made its way from the top to the bottom of the window pane. He could instantly feel the goosebumps on his hand. His lips quivered, but he somehow enjoyed the entire sensation.
He gazed at the silver showers intensely, trying hard to locate each drop of water as they landed gently from the skies above. His heart started beating with excitement. A strong urge grew in him that kept repeating, “Make the move Adi. Go for it.”
Unable to control his emotions any further, Aditya dashed out of his house barefoot into the road. He stood there with his arms wide open, his head tilted up and eyes closed. A slight smile emerged on his lips. He could feel it. He felt his spirits become one with that of the heavenly waters. He stood there trying to soak in the merriment while images of his friends clapping and enjoying moved rapidly in front of his eyes.
He had done it. He had broken the curse and befriended the enemy. The shackles of the torture he had been subjected to were broken. A deep feeling of pure joy, and peace descended upon him. He was no longer scared. He knew now that there was nothing that could come between him and perpetual happiness.
Aditya had always loved colours. To be more precise, colours had always intrigued or rather fascinated him. Whenever his eyes spotted something bright and colourful, he used to gaze at it with intense eyes amazed by their beauty. Red, green, blue, yellow, magenta, turquoise; be it any shade…for Aditya each of these were more than mere colours. For him, they were a manifestation of his inner feelings. A representation of the gift called Life.`
But in spite of his love for colours, somewhere deep inside Aditya used to feel sad. That is because he lacked the skill to draw and paint. “If only I could draw”, he used to say to himself. He used to watch the artists of his class etch fabulous pictures and fill them with all the colours.
“How wonderful! I wish I could create such beautiful pieces of work and show everyone. My parents would have been so proud of me”, he used to say to himself. Little did he know that his only wish was going to come true very soon.
During the spring of his 13th birthday, Aditya fell seriously ill. He suffered from high fever and was confined to bed. He had almost forgotten how to walk. For three months, Aditya was unable to attend school. One day as he lay on his bed, his eyes fell on some crayons and a sheet of paper that were lying on his table. He stared at them for a long time.
He called out to his mom and, when she came, asked her to hand over the crayons and paper to him, which she gladly did. He held the paper in his hand and looked at it intently. Then, as if in a daze, Aditya picked up the red crayon and started sketching on the paper. Fine lines started appearing on the crisp white sheet. After a while, Aditya stopped and looked intently. What he saw he himself couldn’t believe. There in front of him was the face of the person he loved the most…his mother. He had drawn his mom’s face.
An immense sense of joy filled his heart. Unable to control his excitement, he called out to his mom earnestly. She came running to his room all worried and asked, “Adi, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” He looked at her, gave a broad smile and said, “Ma, I can draw.”
