BANDISH

Ek bewafaai aur mili tumhari jeb se,
Siahi ke nishaan, ek muchade hue bill pe.
Kuch der sambhale rakha unhe,
Maine apne mathe ki shikan pe.
Befikr nazar churai tumne,
Main bhi muskura di,
Tumhare lateefe ki ot main,
Din ka varnan, awaaz main hasee aur ulass.
Chaha tumse pooch hi lu aaj,
Laboon tak laakar, rukh gayi kitni baar.
Goonj us sawaal ki,
Shanka mere mann Ki
Kitne kadam door ho tum, es dayere paar
Us siahi ko toh baha diya maine,
Katra katra kar, jeeni hogi, ab yeh daraar.

Light

Heavy head,

Heavy heart.

Eyes wide open,

Before the crack of dawn.

Flashes intermittent, with blankness.

Stillness on face.

Silence in person,

Chaos within.

Time ticks,

Time paces.

Self, a basic instinct.

Boundaries blur,

Walls emerge.

Impregnable future,

Fragile past.

Getting ahead?

With open eyes,

At the crack of dawn.

Black

White is all colors

Yet

We call it pure

Black is absence of color

Yet

We call it impure

White reflects everything,

An impenetrable chill.

Black absorbs everything,

An inclusive warmth.

White is blinding

Black is blind

White is marriage

Yet

White is death

Black is protection

Yet

Black is death

Transition from life is peace

Peace is white

Yet

Rituals are black

Transition in life is chaotic

Chaotic is black

Yet

Ceremonies are white

Coal hardened to diamond

Black seasoned to white

Black is the reason for light

Black is the soul of white

Shouldn’t white be black?

Fallen

Bright lights,
Big city.
Meandering streets with faceless entities.
Finding familiarities in nothingness niceties.
Yellow raincoat,
Puddle soaked feet.
Puddles for lakes,
Alleys for express streets.
Dilapidated creativity on graffiti-laden stone walls
Or lesser gods at life’s call
Frayed toothless smiles,
Grease smeared passersby.
Disguised charades,
Or victims of the urban epidemic.
Shredded being,
Patches and threads that hold the cover.
Clinging onto soul piercing shards of shame.
Distraught pleasure in metal crushers heave down car graveyards
Doomsday?
Naah!
Just a pit stop.
For evolutionary transformation,
Reduced to shapeless iron,
Looking to be crafted into an object of desire.
Deliver the earths ye potter,
The iron ye blacksmiths,
The souls ye poets
Dazed mind, hazy vision,
Warm blood trickling temple to chin,
Losing ground.
Natures pain of labour,
For darling creativity.
Churning stomach,
Craving for just once more.
Gashed its arms to lend the world its beauty.
Ah! The high of creation,
Make believe or believable?
Flickering misery, flinching hope,
Fallen.
Blackened nails, infested wounds.
Crooked wry happiness,
Rats gnawing into skin.
Stench of inconsequential
Calling the bright lights in the big city.
Fallen

Cents to a Dollar

Every cent you take
You give back a dollar.
Every moment you fake,
You get closer to reality.
Its all about un-thought unscrupulous mortality.
Deathless.
Breathing life into listless insanity.
What really is sanity?
Is the glass half full?
Or egg half broken?
Am I simply an opportunist?
A characterization of contrived adherence?
or a picture of societal free fall?
You will love me tomorrow,
Do you see me with you today?
Time is not uni-dimensional
But a multidimensional mess.
Walking dark alleys,
Silencing poltergeists.
Or is that scream a longing for silence?
Palpable.
Untouched.
or conveniently forgotten?
Delving into condescending duality,
The spell of frivolous lust and greed.
Knowing men are vents for gods sins
HER unpretentious pleasures
His happiness but a mirage.
HER love for him, a masquerade.
And when was it that you saw beyond the almighty’s mask?
HER surreal identity,
His unforgiving hypocrisy,
Both brutal.

I sit by the sidewalk,
Investing cents for a dollar to roll back.

-Jugalbandi @Route04

Art & Science of Deception

Elementary, my dear Watson!
And that’s what the world remembers.
A line that never existed.
The untruth that lives each day and dies.

We see what we want to.
We hear what we desire.
We believe an illusion.
And when the illusion breaks,
Say that the world conspires?

Deception is a strange game.
It relays a vicious cycle.
It plays on the weakest link,
Trust in another,
Until it feeds into your self
The beginning is where it ends.

What you give is what you earn.
What you get is,
Neither fate,
Nor out of turn.

Tied to strings,
Self-professed, oh so detached!
Holding onto the last straw,
That sinks.
Instead,
Believe in oneness and survive.

Definitions and boundaries,
Amorphous principles,
Open to scrutiny and sub-judice.
Collective intelligence,
Limiting individuality,
Pre-ordained paths to happiness.
Crafted concepts of social being.

Subterfuge of who we are
And perception.
Striving for acceptance,
Moving to religion.
Restricting living,
To sheer existence.

One amongst the plenteous stages of evolution
Is self –admission
to ravenous narcissism and intemperance.
Arguably,
love of self is ‘the’ driving force
Confronted with a tirade of continuous dissent.

All are born with colored eyes
With colored love and a colored mind.
with the ongoing struggle to demystify
with a challenge to revive
a sonnet called life.

So Far…

So Far..

It has been easy so far,
The truth that dwelled in our lives
Was buried and scarred
As I re-visit the essence and drive
I feel compelled to correct the standards to survive
To resurrect the dying aptitude in moral conviction
to improve in small measures
to make doable resolutions

A process of self help
A guide to what I would like to be known as best
The things I would like to do
The things that I would find time to pursue
The approach is not a whirlwind solution
But the implementation of an idiom I heard at kindergarten
Rome was not built in a day
Simple thoughts put into practice through simpler actions
Will comprise a fruitful day

An inner truth we aspire for
Is to realize our ambitions
In spheres we care for
These are:
Our definitions
Our descriptions
Our search for meaning of life

In all we do in a day’s cycle
Over an extended period of time
What stands out is the lack of growth in monotonous routine tasks
That we train our heart and mind to execute in factions of time
The vicious cycle is not never-ending, once identified
There is indeed an attachment to the mundaneness of our lives
Severing of the everyday ties
Comfort with ambiguity is rarely high
Attempting to change though healthy, is a courageous try
Moreover, can you change what you have known of yourself all your breathing life
A one shot claim is at best an outburst, an outcry,

The mechanics to change are often not hostile
The transition is through
improvements in small measures and doable resolutions
each day, everyday of our lives

Of The Lesser Gods

Children borne of the lesser gods
condemned to a life of disdain
where gurgling laughter
and innocence lose their meaning
early years are reserved for menial training.

Corrupted minds and corrupted hearts
the milieu tearing their childhood apart.
a roving eye,
an outstretched arm
seeking comfort from another’s alms.

Exposed to the ways of the world
nobody to tell them, right from wrong.
The only lesson they learn
that molds them at their tender age
is to survive, just another day.

Yet these children, borne of the lesser gods
instinctively, make choices,
choices of which normal childhood is made of.
They play in mud,
cry in pain
build castles of clay
and string empty cans as trains.
They too admire their reflection in the mirror,
impersonating a superstar
gather the rags to innovate them as dresses
for junk, they label them baubles and trinkets.
They too seek others of their age
uncannily,their games resemble games of those born to normal personage.

When one amongst the children, borne of the lesser gods
begins to thrive and shine
when one amongst them, begin to more than just survive
A challenge to those living lives of normalcy
One of whom, points them towards their shrine of abject misery and dependency
borne of the lesser gods, you forever will be.

Biblical Seven Sins of Life

In the shadow of grey
One toils with profligacy
Let’s introduce ourselves to the dark side today.
Step back and push common perception aside
I am going to walk you through the biblical seven sins of our lives.

Pride and vanity antithesis of humility
In the garb of ‘I’ and healthy competition
Caught up in the web of comparison
Feeding the gratification of dignity
Proud of what one is and whom one has.

Avarice and greed contradicts generosity
Cloaked in want for one’s fair share and a little bit more.
Whose yardstick do we use to define a true altruist
Can one give more than what one seeks ?
Can one manage expectations when they peak?

Envy is everything love is not
Disguised and huddled in the hearts of all
Impatience destroys the love inside
Too much of love is the shard of envy that pierces one through
Numb and immobile, selfless love.

Wrath and anger destroy the acts of kindness
Flaw of the human mind
It remembers what it listens to last
A look, a touch, a word so harsh
Revoke at will, one cant.

Lust to placate sensuality,
Desire insatiable, for power, money and lovemaking ruthlessly
Pleasure of uncontrollable adrenaline rush
Stifling, for the lack of sobriety
Overwhelmed by opportunities of extravagant lifestyle

Gluttony pushes the limits of temperance
Hankering for debauchery, regalement and social vibrance
Certitude in morality and responsibility , a tempering flame.
Appetite to challenge faith
A path easier than forbearance

Sloth is effacing the zeal
Blighting zest for life and the spiritual inside
A sense of wasted-ness,
Stupor of mind and thought
Accepting without questioning, subscribing to existing schools of thought

In the shadow of grey
Toiling with profligacy
Living with the dark side today
Common perception pushed aside
The biblical seven sins of our lives.

Spiteful Calm

Am I the same?
Do u picture me any other way?
Is it wry? Are you dismayed?
I pretend to peak in confidence
And you think it is high
It is nothing more than a display
No one knows who I am, not even I.
I am not the one you believed in
Am I shattering your belief?
I am shattering mine.
I know I am not who I wanted to be
Far from love and far from life of others
Untouched by complexities
May be that’s all that I care for
Are those beliefs mine?
My verdict against yours
My truth against love and life
It is not for fear of pain or that I foresee life as dim
It is all those anxieties one faces when there is hope and folklore
All things I’d care for and all those moments I’d deny
I’d see the time skim through me and realize that it leaves us all bare
To show the face of nostalgia is to bare your face to the world
And as it fades colors, blurs one’s opinions
Surfaces the unknown
We are to witness this exposure,
We are born to experience
This life in its verve and dynamism
all that it brings to the limelight
Random thoughts and random patterns
Leaving us vulnerable to the inevitable
After a storm calm will reside.