Seven

There once lived a girl in a forest
sheltered and isolated from the rest
unbeknownst to most, devoid of unrest.
Her days were sunny and nights tranquil
her dreams cheerful, demeanor playful
her needs simple, desires ephemeral

She lived by no rules, obeyed no system
played with chaos summoned at random
the world was to her but a mere phantom.
She remained a total stranger to humanity
until the day she found the utter monstrosity.

She heard them call it the human heart
a grotesque creature born of pure abstract.
She was never meant to find the beast
if it were not for that one impossible feat
of a stranger who has mastered the beat
and unlocked the closely guarded secret.

Seven seas away, seven continents hence
seven stories high and seven notes apart
the seven pounds slowly began to hum
and the girl is no longer a girl but a woman
from here on she does nothing but bemoan.

Breath Of A Cobra

I still wonder what made him look up
at the same instant I looked down
before taking that one further step.
A brief moment frozen perfectly still ..
fatal, composure, frenzy? Many a possibility.
We looked into each others' eyes deeply
intent on calculating the imminent danger
to our worlds and our very own existence.

A chance encounter? A predestined rendezvous?
He, coiled in the cool, dank shade of the orange tree
seeking respite from the harsh Indian summer
safe from nocturnal predators and hidden
from the menacing eyes of the high fliers.
I, out to excavate lost childhood memories,
to relive a lazy afternoon, inhaling the aromas
of the dripping water droplets melting into
the deep red earth parched under the midday sun.

All I remember was the intense darkness of the eyes
a pair of sapphires sparkling against the landscape
black like the night, like a dream devoid of emotion.
I return the gaze oblivious to the silence around me
we engage in a dangerous dance for just a brief moment
appearing to hold our grounds and then unexpectedly ..
he withdraws .. a brisk slither across the plain
and a slow hiss resonating in the absolute stillness.
A few yards away, he pauses, turns his head around
shoots a fleeting glance before fading into the bushes.

I was left standing in the middle of vast emptiness
marveling at the incredible grace of the movement
no other soul in sight except for the dizzying heat
and the shifty songs of the ever moving mirages.
I still wonder sometimes why he turned to look
was he taking the imprint of the image for a revenge?
Don't they say that snakes hold grudges for years?

Me? Yes, I do dream of him on some nights
especially the ones that are most turbulent.
A forked tongue flickers; a coil around my head
and I find peace in those deadly pair of eyes
staring down into my own from a magnificent crown
and I hear the whisper of divine secrets in my ears.
Of course, I ask myself now and then the questions
Does he still remember that fated after noon?
Does he dream of the slender female figure
for whom he decided whether she lived or died that day?

Looking Over The Horizon

How far, how many years, how many hurdles ?
But memories persist, they are always there
just a tap away from flooding the conscious.
A brutal night of fire, death and mayhem,
many were lucky. A shot through the back or
a stab through the heart and there was peace.
But hers was a struggle. A fierce, lost battle.

Do not dare ask her about human rights
they have all died that night and no one cared.
Who gave you the right to pretend to understand?
Get the hell out of her face and let her live.
There is one place she can trust and believe in
despite the deep betrayal and devastation .
It is her motherland, do not take it away from her.
It is all she has ever known, loved and respected.
Do not take her away and imprison her in your
cold, lonely, isolated self!! Let her live and love!

His eyes smile full of hope and glinting dreams.
The city could not rob him of those precious gifts
Sleepless nights whiled away on the pavement
the bone chilling cold and an everlasting hunger
the sturdy police boots kicking in the rib cage
empty streets, kerosene lamps and rainy days
the street urchin found happiness amidst turmoil.

I suppose, he does dwell in poverty, yet is he truly poor?
He has a purpose, a plan. Poised to take on life,
he stares into the future with a determined frown.
There is a hidden challenge in that look
he is challenging you, me and the rest of the society.
Dare you try and stop him? Beware, Chaos ensues!

Let them realize their dreams, let them look back over their shoulders., let them find their own happiness. Please stay away from your Robinhood instincts. It never worked, it never will, you can never model a human being after you. The fledgling always finds its own way. Enable them and sit back to see what wonderful beings they turn into.

Quest

It feels like forever, a lifetime.. my own to be accurate
I have been searching. Searching for a time and a place.
Perhaps an undefined place and a perfectly still moment
that is ephemeral, abstract, transcendental, unreal
yet full of potential of bursting into concrete existence.

A tiny hole in the fabric of the universe that is modeled after me.
It has been the target of my quest, of the eternal crusade
against norm and normalcy, boredom and humdrum.
The sobering, prosaic tales of happiness and complacency.
Contentment, peace and serenity.. what in the hell do they mean?

How does one find that place? Perchance, I am already there?
How do I know? What is that supposed feel like? Does anybody know?
Is that happiness I see in the smiles or a non-questioning conformity?
Is a smaller world much better a choice? Unchallenged bliss?
One size fits all! Now, why do I fail to imagine that?

After all, it is feasible that I am the one that has not learned.
Others have already passed through this and I am still here ..
lost in the ways of the world and its monotonous mysteries.
An adolescent revolutionary with a childlike wonder and full of questions.
Is it time for me to grow up? Please tell me, 'No'. Cuz I really don't wanna!!

I Lost My Name

It was the man who took it away
the one with the blue solitary smile
He won the game, clean and effortless
the trick was simple and I was willing.
It had to be that easy, after all ..
the man himself knows how to lose
A little basil leaf, and the scales tipped.

It is his heart that beats the golden rhythms
in my veins, a dark violet passion flows
into the jasmine scented starry nights.
A beautiful, sweet intoxicating flute song ..
he invented me through his deep cherry lips.
I am his creation, modeled after his deepest
desires, darker destinies: I have to give in.
Perhaps it is my choice, it is hard to tell
where my will ends and his own begins.

Besides, I am tired of the constant battles
of knowledge, resistance, strength and will.
What is good and evil? Does anybody even know?
Now people forget the ways to conjure me.
Without the name, the song does not know
to whom it belongs, nor does it have a meaning.
Anonymity, I shall embrace it for a while
I will let the truest seekers to find me
the sacred symbols are everywhere
one must know how to look for them.

The river Yamuna still flows in my laughter
moonlit rainbows flare in the corner of my eyes
Marigolds in my hair make the tune of the wind.
In the land of brilliant sunsets and emerald dreams
I will be hidden between the layers of mist and dawn
seek me through the heart wrenching notes
and truth forever shall be yours and only yours!