Amanat

जिनकी गोद में हंसती-खेला करती थी 

आज उन्हें गुमसुम चुपचाप रोते देखती हूँ 

जो लड़ गए मेरे लिए लाठी-बर्फ पानी से भी 

उन्हें आज हताश हारा हुआ बेबस देखती हूँ 

जिन जानवरों को जीते-जी जलाना चाहती थी 

तुमको उन्हें फांसी देते भी डरते देखती हूँ 

ठंडा हुआ जब सबका गुस्सा, मुझे कर अनदेखा 

तुम्हे आज आज़ादी का जश्न मनाते देखती हूँ।

Growing

"Growing" has been amongst my favourite verses, which has time and again inspired, motivated and encouraged me. Given me hope, ambition and zeal. Made me feel brave, grown up, responsible and a bit more loving. Sharing my favourite poem with you, which always stirs my soul in a manner yet inexplicable to me :)

I'm leaving now to slay the foe-

Fight the battles, high and low.

I'm leaving, Mother, hear me go!

Please wish me luck today.

I've grown my wings, I want to fly,

Seize my victories where they lie.

I'm going, Mom, but please don't cry-

Just let me find my way.

I want to see and touch and hear,

Though there are dangers, there are fears.

I'll smile my smiles and dry my tears-

Please let me speak my say.

I'm off to find my world, my dreams,

Carve my niche, sew my seams,

Remember, as I sail my streams-

I'll love you all the way.

- Brooke Mueller

PS:- If anyone knows anything about the author of this beautiful poem, please let me know. I shall be very grateful! :)

Until later, Cuidate!

Dusk

In the chilly wisps of dusk

When you came to bid me goodbye

Instead of the other way round

And kept whispering cheerful nothings

While I stared at the ground

And grew more agitated, thinking

Of the words yet to be spoken

Of hugs yet to be shared

Of kisses yet to be stolen

Of smiles yet to be flashed

Of eateries I wanted to take you to

Of the things I wanted for you to buy

Of the grounds we had to stroll on

And the million other things we had to try

And not noticing that home was nearing

I didn’t hold your hand when I still could have

And kept asking you to turn back and go

When only you by my side I wanted to have

And at the time of parting

As you drew me in your embrace

When I actually wanted to melt

I instead put up a stone facade

But Love, had I not been foolish enough

To be angry at you having to go away

I would have held you tighter still
And for longer than I did that day.

When Will My Life Begin?

Starry eyed as I watch them march

Towards their Banyans from beneath my Larch

Basking in their warm glowing delights

They stand taller as I watch with starry eyes

They flew the coop and I was left behind

They conquered realms and I'm yet to myself find

They achieved the most and became stuff of lore

I'm still under wings when they fearless soar

They toiled to the bones when I soundly slept

I procrastinated when their tears of accomplishment were wept

And opportunities passed me by when my eyes were shut

Wondering why didn't any ever my way strut

Dreaming of the future while my present ran past

Blind to the icebergs though perched on the mast

Knowingly a fool and losing while waiting to win

Asking my decades old life when will it begin?

Open Proposal To Corazon

The moment I first laid my eyes upon you

My heart jumped a bit and mightily proclaimed!

That you, oh dear one, are my equivalent mechanism

and my life's mechanical advantage, it acclaimed!

My heart plundered forward like a 16 cylinder V engine

And used up twice the fuel whenever you came into view

The hound! Power steered after wherever you went

And went into resonant motion when it met you ;)

And my time since with you has been exceptionally stable

No friction, no vibrations, only and only lubrication!

Ah, lucky me, God has indeed blessed me, I feel

as if I'm an electric car in times of fuel inflation @}---

Because you have been my perfect truss of strength

Reinforced with fiber composite material

And strong as stainless steel in times of need

Standing like the Golden Gate Bridge imperial!

My piston, we are like the mating teeth of cycloidal gears

No possibility of interference, no fear of undercutting

You impart me with positive drive, oh Love!

And are my safety pressure valve in times trying.

You are as dear to me as bearings in a hub

Like bushing around a pin to guard from rub

So I go down upon my knee and beg you to dare

My soulmate, will you be my closed pair?

Source: Theory of Machines, S S Rattan

The Coward That I Am

My nation has already expressed all the horror, anger, shock, measures, punishments, grief, and finally, condolences. Though much has already been said and written, and knowing that I have nothing that hasn't been uttered before, yet I have come to learn something new about myself.

That I am as much a coward as she was brave.

I am a coward because though the Brave heart fought a fierce battle for her life, without a single sign of mental breakdown or stigma associated with the crime, I, on the other hand, followed her story and read every single article while crying copiously.

With the shock that the girl who got cremated could easily have been me, I had thought of writing open letters to the President, the Chief Minister, the Chief Justice, or whoever would listen to express my horror and indignation, and demand that they restore my sense of peace and security. But the coward that I am, I convinced myself that my voice shall not be heard. The coward that I am, I only kept telling myself that I will join the protests once my exams end, but now I know that I don’t have the courage, and shamefully, that I am lazy to get out of the house, to give voice to the girl who had to die to awaken me.

And while she heroically asked that the innumerable tubes running in and out of her body be detached for a while, so that she could give her official statement to the police, twice, the coward that I am, I dream of evil silhouettes brandishing rusty rods at me, and I wake up in a sweat.

I will not ask the men in my life what they have done to ensure my safety. I will not ask the government that who is responsible for my dignity. Because I don’t have the right, for what did I do for myself when a man once groped my behind in a crowded compartment and grinned at me, and I could do nothing more than abuse his back once he had passed me? I am a coward, because only cowards like me sometimes fervently pray that they meet the same man, so that this time, instead of writhing in a helpless angry impotence, they can thrash the bastard. Each time the memory sends shivers of rage down my spine and my inaction makes me feel ashamed to look at myself in the mirror.

I have been following the newspapers very closely, and they say that the rapists lodged in Tihar have hardly expressed any repentance. That the juvenile will get away with nothing more than raps on his knuckles. That the juvenile was caught with the burnt mobile of the brave heart, and pieces of cloth torn from her body. I had read somewhere that such monsters collected “souvenirs” from their exploits, which turns them on at a later time. The coward that I am, I fear of what will happen once that juvenile is out on the streets again. Which will see the light of another day, his lust or my life?

And even though the coward that I am, I want to use the same rod on each one of the rapist bastards.

Real men don’t rape.

And real women fight back.

I, for once, know that I don’t seem to be one, and I am ashamed. Of myself.

Calvin Says It For Me!