New book…

 

Hello friends,

My new book titled ‘Voice of the Soul’ is now available on Amazon. Please Read and tell me what you think.

 

How does it feel to lie just by yourself and delve into the silence? The silence that is a path to a deeper self, a self that is unexplored. That same unexplored self can also be regarded as the soul. While the time ticks on the clock, a bond with your soul is timeless. Such metaphors are rendered powerless when a conversation is created with oneself. These poems mean more than just words, they scream soulfulness. It is rather weird that we go looking for answers outside when all that we have to do is seek deeper within ourselves. The poems are experiences that the poet shares with the world and these experiences are nothing fancy- they are all moments that the poet experiences with himself. They are questions risen from inquisitiveness and introspection.

Here is the link:

Buy now

Look down.

 

 

I might face the charges of blasphemy

But I never understood heaven and hell

They say heaven is beautiful and glorious

But what do they mean by beauty?

Isn’t beauty a material desire?

A desire which may manifest into the roots of hell

They also say that heaven will have lots of food and wine

The appetite will surely be satisfied with heaven

But isn’t the appetite responsible for hell?

Are they saying that heaven leads to hell?

The obdurate mind loves the theory of heaven

So fed up it is of life

It can’t deal with any other hell

The mind is living in hell and it hopes

For things to get better in heaven

And it keeps on living

Travelling from hell to hell

Hoping to reach heaven

Life is a mirror

It shows you what you are

The mind is standing on a trap door

Searching for heaven

It’s been long

Soon it will realize and look down.

 

Devil.

 

 

I looked for you in the munificence around

In the summery afternoons and chilly nights

I tried to find you in the halcyon days that passed

But you were in hiding, very clever you are.

I got robbed two days before by a man

I thought I will catch you this time

Inside that man’s heart, I looked

But you escaped.

I walked for days and hours

Knocked every heart that passed

Met prisoners who murdered for money

And you were still lost.

They say that you are all around

But I don’t see you

 Do you even exist?

I wonder if you really do

I know that you don’t

I knew this for quite some time now

Those who see you are inside a trap

Because you are not real

Dear devil, you do not exist

You are nothing.

I walked farther and farther

Below a big tree, there was a beggar

He asked me for some money

I neglected him and his broken legs

I neglected his hunger and his dirty face

I blocked my compassion

And I moved on

After a second I heard a noise

‘Welcome to the illusion’, it said

I turned back and asked, ‘Who is there?’

The reply came, ‘Devil’.

Texture.

 

 

A texture reaching infinity

Walking in all directions

Carries people

Living and dead

Happy and sad

The stars are rolling

As if balls rolling on satin

Life is only ephemeral

It perceives the texture in units of time

There are some moments though

These moments throw you on the texture

You roll along with the stars

You become time

And in those moments

You find yourself.

Disentangle…

 

A woman is sitting on the front verandah of her house, trying to disentangle a long thread. She is totally involved in her work. Her face is wrinkled and dull, her eyes will take one to abysmal depths of pain and suffering. There is calmness in her breath. She has finally made peace with life.
A young man aged around 25, came rushing from his room. He is tall and has brown skin. He lambasted his mother who was sitting on the verandah. ‘How can he spend this much money on his portfolio?’ he asked. He has hardly made any progress on his acting career. I have spent enough and I want my money back.
‘He is your little brother son, he needs your help’, his mother replied. ‘He will definitely pay you back. Just give him some time.’
The little brother, aged around 20 came outside his room yawning. He sat near his mother. He asked, ‘why does he always behave like that?’
‘He loves you’, his mother replied. ‘He is just tensed. That’s all.’
‘But father left all this money for both of us. Why is he in charge of everything? I want to spend my money according to my wish. Why can’t I do that?’, he asked disappointingly.
The mother started shouting loudly, ‘You should be thankful to your brother. He has made a lot of money with the little your father left. He has been spending a lot of money on you as well. And now I will tell him to stop giving you money. You don’t deserve it.’
The big brother hears everything and says, ‘Mother, don’t shout at him, he is my little brother. I will do everything to make his dreams come alive. He has all the right to my money.’
Both the brothers hugged each other with teary eyes.
Their mother went outside. She sat on the verandah and got back to disentangling the thread.

5 YEARS OLD…

 

 

When I was 5 years old

I used to watch birds fly

Flapping their wings

And producing dulcet tones

I used to inhale the fragrant air

There was some mystery around

I saw people walking and not rushing

Meeting each other and discussing

A sense of wonder was there in all eyes

There was a bird’s nest in my house

I saw the bird and its hard work

When it carried every single twig

And build its home

I was left amazed

By that creation

Today, when I see buildings rising high

Floor after floor

I miss that sense of wonder

I live on the 25^th floor

And yet it doesn’t seem implausible

It’s been 20 years

The dulcet tones are hiding

Behind the mechanical and religious sounds

I enter the elevator to reach my apartment

I am not amazed by the elevator

I am just happy that I don’t have to climb the stairs

It is all so comforting

But not surprising and wonderful

I enter my house

Open the window

A bird flaps its wings

Flies to the corner of another building

Brings a twig from there

And twig by twig it builds a house

I just sit near my window and look at it

I am amazed at it

With awe and wonder in my eyes

I am 5 years old again.

Desire.

 

I fall from a window

and I wake up in another world

the trees and the roads are different

the winds and the people are different

the sky is less dark

the rains are less harsh

I walk on the roads

and my thoughts fly

to the old world

It is peace I desired

when I was falling

but now I desire something else

I desire the old world

I always desire what I don’t have.

 

The window.

 

the crowded roads

and the running humans

the street dogs barking

and the unnecessary fighting

nothing escapes from my view

the silent gossip

and the noisy traffic

the birds chirping

and the winds rustling

I hear everything

the woebegone reality

passes through me every day

But I don’t say anything

I maintain my calm

Life needs some things in order

to counter the disorder

I just move my glass doors

on the tunes of wind

and strike the wall

to thrash my frustration

I maintain silence in my house

I try to bring fresh air

and dulcet tones of birds

to refresh the minds of humans

I am just a window

and all I do is just my job. 

 

dark room.

 

An empty dark room

Signifying lassitude

A few of them came

And started circling the room

Finding a way to enter

They knocked from all sides

And tried to enervate

The emptiness inside

They were being deceitful

But it was obvious now

The doors of the room remained closed

The lost courage rose to power

And threw the fear away 

The state of thoughtlessness

Was reached

Filling the room

With bright light

And sempiternal bliss.