The divine fragrance…

The divine fragrance…



When the dark cloud in the azure sky,

Mingled with the airborne dust,

Its ebullient journey began,

it rolled with ecstasy towards the green leaf,

which waved its curvy shape calling it,

it slipped over the body of the leaf,

as if it was sitting on a rollercoaster,

it continued with consistent allegiance,

falling and tripping from one leaf to another,

dancing to the tunes of the ferocious winds,

every single leaf was shining and glowing,

after interacting with it,

they blessed it with their soothing touch,

and guided it towards its destiny,

and it was finally there,

the cracked and dry earth looked at it above,

with a craving for a union,

it met the earth and moistened it,

by immersing itself into the crack,

it is the dalliance of a drop of water,

traveling from the clouds,

and the dry earth,

which spreads a divine fragrance,

every time it rains.

The rule of majority…

The rule of majority…



They are many, I am one,

I am Befuddled in life,

They are not, They are clearly stupid,

I followed egalitarianism, but they were elitists,

They thrashed me, was not their fault though,

The rule of majority suggested it,

One wise man in a group of idiots,

Same as one idiot in a group of wise men,

I was the idiot they thought,

They were the idiots, I knew,

I put on a mask of an idiot,

Only to be among them,

They thought I became wise,

For me, I turned into the biggest idiot,

Otherwise, Which genius wears the mask of an idiot?

To make the other idiots feel like geniuses,

It is like I don’t know anymore,

Is there an absolute genius?

Is your own vote enough for you to be a genius?

I asked them these questions,

It is all rubbish, they said and started laughing…

An old man and the innocent child…

An old man and the innocent child…



A cantankerous old man,

A wrinkled face,

Infinite desires,

Small but Impecunious family,

An entire lifetime,

Desecrated soul shouting,

Trying to ameliorate the living,

That innocent child is dead,

For many years now,

Which laughed uncontrollably,

The consistent carping snatched his breath,

Now, the lethargic body,

And the inefficient mind,

Are waiting together,

There is a presentiment of death,

Death for all,

But, for the old man,

It is his reunion with the innocent child…





A gift box,

Shining and glowing,

Rimmed with colored dust,

Made with finesse,

Is sitting  on the table,

Projecting its surreal beauty,

The variegated stripes on its cover,

 tried to add value,

To the gift sitting inside the box,

The magnificent  box increased the curiosity,

What might be inside?

With fervor, it was opened,

And there were a few rotten apples,

Degrading the inside of the box,

Reducing the entire value,

To zero…





I woke up,

And walked away,


The body,

As it was moribund,


The body was behaving,

Like a sluggard,

Dragging itself,

As if it was,

under lots of pressure,

to fulfill the dreams,

to stop the heart’s screams,

to live before dying,


As I saw it,

Resting under the mud,

I felt weightless,


The union with the body,

Over the years,

Killed me,

And as it was dead,

I became alive,

I, the soul of everything,


The house of wood…

The house of wood…

There was a house made of wood,

10 feet above the ground,

On the large tree it stood.

There were windows which brought fresh air,

And there was dust,

which accompanied the air.

The rustling air flowed from one window to the other,

and the soul sitting inside was peaceful,

It felt as if in a limerence.

But the dust kept accumulating,

disturbing the soul’s dalliance,

with the air.

The soul realized this in time, and  played a trick,

It covered the window with a long net,

which filtered the dusty air.

The dust now sat outside the window,

and watched the peaceful interaction,

of the soul and the air.

What if my body is a house made of wood?,

What if my mind is the window?,

Lets say, it is so.

Then,for a peaceful life,

I only need a net,

To filter my thoughts…

Eluding life…

Eluding  life…



the eyes full of innocence,

the heart full of love,

the inquisitive mind,

and nothing to bind…



the crying passion,

the need to make impression,

the exuberant  desire,

and a burning fire…



the mature comprehension,

the nostalgic emotion,

the practical dreams,

and the thirst of solitude…



the fear of dying,

the reality lying,

the rekindled curiosity,

and the heart feeling pity…



the longing of soul,

the mind’s goal,

the medicated body,

and  eluding  life…