Harmed in the sphere of biased lives I crept inside
Knowing not the untamed struggle ,I harness my enemies easily
Like a serpents venom and a child’s heart I lived
Facing the blank space of my own desire for venegence
I struggled and struggled victory and death together I pretended
I was a strong window of bolted chains of sorrow
Until I laid my head down under the blank space .
Let me reach to you
I am a devil
Don’t do right , do wrong
I am the opposite.
Who has measured your birth?
Pictures and few faces!
Ask them ,do they have a note
Of their own doings?
Ongoings.
You are sleepless,thinking of light
Its dark away , now you are a devil
A stranger to good,let it go
World is full of bullies,you be your
Own doing, push them steal them away from the moment
Carpediem
Ongoings.
Now is time to flourish,be strong
Pluck all the Eden’s and dance
Forget about the snake you saw last
Enjoy in the black death of past
Simulacra
Ongoings.
Death ,came so fast
You wandered like a shroud
You wore it on your ongoings
Like a king in the war.
Adieu
Wrongdoings.
I watch them as plane goes over the sheets of different blue’s . I look at them from the corner of my right eye. I am not a criminal ; also, the guards carrying with them thick wooden stick for beating either ,I am just alone ,and an explorer at least I ceased to be.
It was a fine morning when I suddenly decided to tighten my laces of branded shoes and to move out from a room that was closed from all the four sides. It was suffocating now because the window had the newspaper taped from start to end to stop the entrance of little mosquitoes that ;I slept and became the biggest intruders in my reality and world of dreams. The wall was red in colour,which sometimes was happening for having a pleasant background for pictures when more people were in but sometimes it reminded me of blood ,pain and grief I have had experienced in my coldest night of dreams. It was now rotting,the person inside a well fabricated body was rotting because of the four walls he was caged in. I had to tighten my shoe laces even more stronger.
I left the place in afternoon carrying a side bag and a water bottle because the place I had thought of exploring were full of warm sun rays giving the idea of dryness it brought to my tongue that was left tasteless,because I hadn’t had anything since morning. I caught the nearest metro and escaped the eyes of people who tagged me as a foreigner just because I was fair in colour and being a non attention seeker I hated that. I knew they had been looking at my hair that was curly enough to shape my personality as one of the writer’s in town and as accidental it could be it was short too. I knew people in metro pointed at my get up that was just a jeans and a jacket that I had bought long back when I had been in my home town. They peered through every space they could get ,also from the shoulder’s which were taking the support of a pole in the centre. They thought that I was unaware of there starring but I was aware though I didn’t mimicked them . I kept longing for my station which would be my first place to travel alone and I was excited to know the fate it would bring me.
I walked and stared at the narrow streets where till date at least one billion footsteps would have been marked by our master my being five ,let alone of my family.I stalked an old man’s wooden box covered with a very old white cloth so that the dust of the street would not enhance it’s degradation. I saw him counting something and my eye was directly on the different coins he had collected . They varied from era to era and recent . The one’s which had been expired as a result of new comers in the list. I just smiled and made my way.
I was followed by numerous rickshaw walla’s who thought of robbing me of my wallet ,only be cause they thought I was a tourist and had come to India for vacations. Had they little known about my individuality they would have buried my body into a sac and God knows what more would have I suffered ,had they known I was a Kashmiri. But ,I thank God of my voice and language that I was saved.
I went through lane by lane and entered into a monument which spoke to me. It spoke to me as I turned back to my life and I found hope. I found reasons to continue living and reasons to dream. This was a very strange thing but I could see faces of number of people who have entered in my life and exited . I had an experience of lifetime . I saw how world is filled with people of all types. I then recalled my suffocation in that four cornered room and thought of our master’s job which was to protect this balloon full of gas and I again praised him for I had a perfect life. While entering this place I met with a peculiar incident . As a mark of respect people from whichever place and status needed to take the shoe’s off so that the place remains cleaner then before. I did as I was ordered and suddenly a man with Kohl rinsed eyes and a Muslim scarf around his neck and a Muslim hat covering his hair and head approaches me with a smile and a Muslim way of greeting”salaam allaikum”. I said wallai kum salaam,and he asked for 300 rupees. I was taken aback because I remembered as a kid whenever I went with my family to this place we were never asked to pay a ticket money and also people around me went free of cost. It angered me and I said with a loud voice “kyun bhaya”(why brother?). To which he showed me a board on which the message was clear cut that only if I was a foreigner or outsider I had to pay them. I sighed and changed my language into my orginal and requested them to believe my individuality. They happened to accuse me after showing them the skills of my changed dialect ,to lesson the pressure I showed them my I-card and hence I was relieved. The question didn’t come up for paying the sum it was of division between black and white. If I had been born with a black colour would I have been given respect as same to the respect I got while being fair?I just thought and as innocent as I was the answer was “NO”.
Living in the city where still history rules the present one cannot help but be surprised at the various step wells one finds in the centre. These step wells mark the prison of that time for any ruler who could go beyond the actions. These step wells now were homes and shelters of various pigeons who had flight but needed a voice to shed off the fear they had from the humans. In the evening that day I went to such step-well “baoli” which to me was an inspiration. I could write about the well designed hand made walls and could write about the pigeons which went round and round the monument and left the audiences clapping. The sight was so mesmerising that one couldn’t help but start praising at the things he has bestowed us with. I chuckled within myself on a couple who made a romantic pose for a picture memory,had they known the sights the step-well had felt and witnessed they would have romanced in Switzerland rather in ruins which had been a jail for many like us.
Being a Delhi wall-ah ,one needs to add up a spice in his journey to places his hand made map takes him.Because from a minaret to a bird everything inspires here and one forgets who came as a traveller and who went as an Inspired.
-Jamia Masjid ,Old Delhi.
-Ugersen ki baoli ,Hailey road cp.
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The graffito of life lies with lord
Being a lark my body rises up ,
It sees the sun rising; praisng the world
Eyes close:light is bright ,
My area between the two eyes; feels sick ,
Something pierces it deep down. ,
Not a bildungsroman, but epic on my life
I watch him struggling to get out ; but din stops him,
Birds chirp , nightangle sings
Why then only my heart cries out loud?
I doze off with the blanket of night,
Owl is left in me , not a man ,
I am now perfect, unaware of false
Only correct dwells me not the conscience ,
Peace is what suits me
And not pain,
Because even night is the purest
Let alone the light glowing,
I am both larks and owls
I am both light and night,
If only I fail in being
Is the human that I lack to be .
She was having goosebumps and I as an intruder could watch inside of her eyes that dreamt and had been dreaming of the old fairy tale . I wondered :was the Lord biased? Or was He giving? And I had a sigh that was unheard by the crowd .
Aeroplane flied high touching the cover of sky, sky what to say about it . It is magnificient, it is filled with charm but like the land covers the element of inequality high up above .She was watching either the plane or the birds , but she was watching high . Though living in a place where dust and home are equilant , where the purification is no word and where people call the place the slums . But still she looked high at the sky .I went to her as a friend , and a questionaire that was set up by herself , and my conscience . I wanted to ask her what inspired her to look upto the sky and that height without blinking and with continuity . With these questions overflowing my heart second thoughts arose , as to what would be her reaction , what would be her attitude . But then I let it go and approached to her . I remember she was wearing a torn skirt and a skinny shirt and looked mal-nourished . She was black in complexion and her hair was more beautiful than the fake hair actresses wear .
“HIE , I said and she smiled with the circle of silence that seemed to never end . I broke the silence for I had to ask her and I said :how have you been , my little girl ?
I dont know had she seen in me some familiarity or positivity that she started playing with my hair , started touching my accesories which I wore and gave me smiles all this way .she then started , my name is Lilly , and I live here . I saw you watching me the heights of sky and plane but I can only see and imagine for I cant buy the pen . I was day dreaming about my sitting in that airplane and what more flying it myself . A fairy land had evolved me in the day . I have heard that fairy tales occur mostly at nights but for me day and nights are all same . I am never exposed to anyone but when you came and smiled at me you actually took me out of the fairy land and reality came back to me with a blink , blink that was missing at the begginning .I cannot fly in the sky nor I can travell in plane the thing I can do is sit at one place and watch the heights . That moment she had a call from a woman who was maybe over hearing us . Or maybe who was her mother and at that moment I had a grudge cum question to lord ;
“Creator of us, all merciful , but then why to her the sky is fairy tale and why to us the death? “I had a sobbing and prayed for the protection of the fairy tale of the little girl . ..
Clean it looked from far ,
all set for a war
the naive was standing in front .
while protecting the king .
They started with a move
struggling with a storm of plots
some started with their own ,
but some got lost .
Many got killed and many lost
but the victorious wasn’t always the one having crown
its about how wisely you play it
its about how safely you win it .
Deceptions and challenges are the basics
different ranks and one departure
all are set for being victorious ,
for who loves to be a loser .
I was a king in the beginning of mine
deceptions made me a mere tank
love made me a crosser
the queen was the one who made me a horse !!.
Pen at rest 