Drive on the moonlight

Let's drive on the moonlight,
Let's ride the tides
Let's fly the air we breathe
Let's drop the pretensions
which city sleeps to hide
Don't trap the fairies of happiness
watch them dance in the moonlight
make your horizons a little wide
Please drop the pretensions which city sleeps to hide
Lost in subtle nuisances of life
I managed to drop the pretensions which city sleeps to hide
b'cos a fairy of happiness did touch my life

Rain and cities

I loved rain as a child in Doon,
Vast, empty, parched landscape waiting anxiously
like the bride waiting for the warrior to return
She almost knew him but that seems a longtime ago.
Waiting with open bosom and throbbing heart, coy but not shy
“Drench the nymph with the shower”, I would say.
The pitter- patter would start and I would extend my hand for that elixir of life,
I missed it often and the thirsty, greedy nymph would lap it up to ease off her pain.
“Whose love was truer?
Mine, The nymph’s or the bird’s that waited a year for the first drop of rain”.
I again missed the first drop as usual, “Nymph will lap it up”, I thought
I see myself on the road, staring, perplexed, wet
Water flowing to the drain, “Someone spilled oil on the concrete road”
Anxious, thirsty, Greedy Nymph
Waiting with open bosom and throbbing heart, coy but not shy
How will it survive the thirst? Wait seems forever
‘Elixir of life’ flows into the drain
I loved rain as a child....

Death, my friend

Death as an old friend,
I seek to know you.
How you survived the test of times,
How did you live so long?
Death as an old companion,
I seek to know from you,
How you manage to be so just,
Enamoring all, from dust to crest.
Death as an old mate,
I seek to understand you,
Inspite of being the other leg of journey,
Why do people still abhor you?
Death as an old acquaintance,
I wish to slay you,
You too deserve, off course with the onset of mine,
What I just said``other leg of journey’

Three plus three

I saw someone in the mirror, whom I can’t recall
resembled me, somehow but was not me.
I could have taken a longer look but I was getting late
All my friends were waiting at the gate.
We had a plan to catch some snail,
Which we do everytime it rains, with out a fail.
Catching butterflies gets a little tiring,
Sneaking, running and snatching them in the flight
I just woke perspiring.
“ I love those round milk sweets and the chocolate on the cake”,
There is no one to listen and no one to answer
I get up like everyday, counting the wrinkles.
“There is one more hair around my ear”
Like everyday there is again a call from her,
Asking me if I am sincere,
How do I tell her that growing up is my biggest fear?
Moreover verse three is never clear
Growing up meant loosing everyone I hold dear.
“For god sake , you are thrity three, make some decisions”.
“Don’t touch that chocolate,
you get it for two Asterix , one phantom and one nice song”
Still figuring out the boy, who was rushing to catch some snail.
The best place for butterflies in Doon is to follow the trail
Till they take you the greens.
“Are you listening?” I heard someone shout.
Yeah, I do but three plus three just makes six – butterflies, snails and lies

If you exist

I have been searching
and I am not able to find a mechanism,
a device that can help me find him.
He has been elusive, long lost youth that has long left the spirit,
What i see is hungry,dour faces, empty black eyes
stretched palms leading to frail and drooping shoulders.
"He is the one that was caught rioting,was running with a packet"
I am looking for answer but I need to ask the relevant question?
I have a burden on my spirit, size of a boulder,
He keeps on repeating," God is punishing me for my sins"
I loose half of what he says in the din,
alas, I see the half a kg of wheat he was stealing,
I wonder, he lays here in the mighty arms of law,
his kids,picking up the trash and eating.
"why preserve life in such botched up forms?"
I am loosing my reason,
For an atheist, it sounds like a treason,
with all my energy i make my vocal chords express
Oh God, If you exist take me out of this holy mess