Revolutionary Thoughts

You can captivate me,

Not my ideas.

My ideas are free,

Like the highland breeze

Or the tall palm trees.

My handcuffs are my ornament,

That reminds me of my struggle.

I chose to fight

And not to surrender.

I ain't afraid of death.

What is freedom?

Ask the child who has forgotten to run,

Ask the girl who no longer dreams of a naughty man,

Ask them who are either held by social prisons

Or who are already dead in the prisons of their mind.

Where has my freedom escaped?

Or perhaps the thoughts

That keeps me alive

And allows me to fight;

Is that my freedom that's destined?

In the world of healing and sympathies,

Lies the sorrows of adjustments.

I ain't meant to live in it.

I am a free bird,

I will fly beyond the rainbows.

How coward are they

Who fear that bullets can kill a man.

They are unknown of the beauty of death.

In the gallows lies eternal peace,

Trapped in the ropes is immortality.

I have seen my mates die

They were fearless

I envy them.

How could they get such a ruthless death?

I deserve something as beautiful as they did.

My madness can't be chained.

Neither I live with any greed to be the king,

Nor I give a damn to who he is.

I am what I bleed,

I am the pain that I live with.

Believe

We'll find some place soon,

In the quarter of heaven,
Where we'll share a laughter or two

All you gotta do is believe.

Let's fly into the clouds

Neighbouring the stars and resting on the moon

You are an angel I believe

You don't deserve to be here.

You are the rain,

You are the sun that glow,

You are the beautiful rainbow,

You are the angel of my dream.

One day we'll be there,

Believe me it's true,

Just hold on to me,

In the future lies peace.

The Bid Adieu

Since the day you have left

I have wept in solitary and prayed

May Your smile and happiness

Fly from your lips across your face

With the broken heart I cried all night,

Wish you were nearer and always mine.

I shall wait for you to return,

Cause I know there is a lie hidden.

You left alone in the dreary desert,

With the dry hope of swimming around beautiful Madagascar.

Now there's a last wish that I do tame,

Be with someone whose heart beats with yours.

The one who showed you dreams of beautiful blue,

Are all unreal, vague and untrue.

There is beauty in your smile,

That only a drunk poet can define.

For he who wants you for the glory of sex and beauty,

Remember, he shall be gone once it fades away.

Painting the street red

The wide roads seemed could adjust more,

some speeding to hell, some driving home.

Most speeding lights knew no rules,

even speeding on curves, puking dirty fumes.

I remember the words that my mother said,

and so at times I get late to avoid being Mr. Late.

I know there's someone at home, for me who waits,

she gets her sleep of peace, only if I am safe.

Every morning when I rush to get the keys,

she stands by the gate, asks me to ride slow,

with an worried face, the bye-bye she waves.

One evening, things didn't remain similar,

a drunk man on the lorry, missed the sight of this petty rider,

little late he pushed the brakes,

I kissed the streets and laid helpless.

I painted a part of the streets red,

on the footpaths I was made to rest,

a few seconds that I still don't remember,

I felt good to be alive, not for me, but for my mother.

I  returned home, leaning on my friends shoulder,

what hurt me more, was my mothers tear.

Melody of Victory

 

 

Young men, not even a beard on face,

separated by all, termed as a disgrace.

They marched ahead, with a broken heart,

they tamed mutiny, yet seeked love.

What they seeked, was a lovers cuddle,

they faced swords, and struggled in battles.

They faced cuts, groaned in pain,

they were soldiers, agreed to die virgin.

After days in battle, one fine day,

they went outnumbered, about to fall astray.

They gathered courage, went to fight back,

for death may come, yet glory shall remain.

They killed the enemies, killed to live,

they won the war, sand the melody of victory.

Mask

 

Masks and masks,

Masks everywhere.

With pride they hide,

The tales of glory.

They hide the scars,

Which hold tales of wars.

They hide the tears,

Which the heart broken boy beholds.

The pain of the poor father,

Who couldn’t buy his boy a toy.

The world never saw the pain,

The mask covered the dark night’s rain.

 

 

Masks and masks,

Masks everywhere.

They hide the faces,

Which pretends innocence.

The exploiters of beauty,

Who should have been hated,

Are being unconditionally loved,

Thus the mask does its duty.

A father's advice..

Oh beautiful girl, where are you dwelling around?

there are thorns pass the pine,

be careful, you are too young to realize,

if you slip into them; I shall be stabbed alive..

You are my princess, with a dress and a tiara,

and a beautiful smile that happily stays on you,

you ain't any melancholy; but a carol for me,

for your sake, any sacrifice is worth giving..

A father's advice, that I wish to propagate,

choose by the heart, not by the beauty,

for when winter comes nomads leave and natives live,

you shall meet a prince who shall walk past thorns to thee..

The Virgin Soldiers

Graves looked very young,

heart sang melancholy song,

fought proudly; died bravely

virgin soldiers proved loyalty.

A prostitute's love story..

As she expressed her heart out,

into laughter the men broke out,

her tears were ignored by all,

men forgot to console, shamelessly laughed along..

She had been famous and renown,

for she sold her beauty in dark lanes of the town,

most perverts of that town had some rest,

foreplayed and slept over her chest..

Men forgot, she too had a heart,

they knew her as someone who sold love,

and like ruthless beggars, for which they did starve,

every night someone teared down her innocence in the bed..

This guy, whom she had always known since her childhood,

who was lost with time, returned with manhood.

"Thousands of naked men have crawled above me,

yet I remain a virgin; for my heart still belongs to you".

Love is not a poor man's play

Love is not a poor man's play,

He who is rich shall play it the best,

he who has a heart saturated with emotions,

shall shed tears and earn it from her..

Love ain't what's in her heart,

it's about those moments, that you lived without fear,

insecured, yet he dreams of blissfulness,

Love is, not expecting anything in return..

For he who has cried his life for commitments,

feels the need, and fails miserably to love,

and he who has built castles even in tear drops,

knows to love, even if he's deserted to live alone..

Love is not a poor man's play,

he should have courage, to live alone,

blankets of emotions shall wrap him in winter nights,

tears of expectation shall guide him to eternity..

My beautiful girl..

My beautiful girl, is so hard to understand,

she smiles, hiding miseries in her heart,

she tries and tries, yet she fails,

I find myself, behind her tears..

My beautiful girl, knows to fake a smile,

she's happy, even when she's not,

she does, to make up my heart,

I make her cry and she happily does..

My beautiful girl, takes my breath away every hour,

I have a heart that beats with her,

she's a princess, with tiara and love,

I being a roadsider dream to be with her, forever..

My beautiful girl, ain't for everyone to understand,

for God himself took hours, when he made her,

and he created luck to make me meet her,

she's a stroke of happiness in my dreary moments..

The Kalapani Captive's..

The sun so strong, outside the window.

Yet it's cold, frozen to death,

the warm revolutionary ideas.

At the blink of eyes, things have turned so wrong.

We swore to struggle, at the cost of everything.

We pictured immortality beyond the victory of our flags.

Our brothers, who fearlessly faced bullets,

smiled, as they walked to the gallows,

kissed the noose as if it were there valentine's lips.

Had their death gone to vain?

When we were captured by the soldiers,

we were hung up and brutally tortured,

mercilessly they ripped off our skin,

they smiled as our muscles gave up,

we didn't surrender, even when they hit us hard.

We pictured handcuffs as ornaments,

and jails as a paradise with our valentine.

The brothers who swore to us,

to keep the struggle alive,

must have been dead or brutally killed.

Had they been alive, the chill would been unnoticed,

the blanket of coldness would have been stripped off,

the Sun would have been ashamed,

their struggle would have been much warmer.

In this island where we have been kept,

and there's water and water around everywhere,

fellow prison mates and guards to accompany us,

beyond the walls are poisonous snakes,

there's no way we can even escape.

Pass on the message, to our brother's,

ask them to be safe, and continue the struggle,

we are born indebted to our motherland,

the debt shall vanish only with death.

Our sacrifice shall be recognized,

only when the Tricolour shall be held high.

The generations yet to come,

shall know they they got their peace,

because some men choose to weep,

in dark cages, and pictured victory.

These line have been penned up as a respect to those Indian revolutionaries who were jailed in Kalapani.

Live free, die Young..

The sight to the open roads,

And a two wheeler upon it,

A wish to fly swift like a bird,

And forever be like that.

Live free, die Young.

The charm of a lovely lady,

With she leaning upon me,

Walking towards unknown lanes,

Without the fear of getting lost in them.

Live free, die Young.

The company of like-minded’s,

And their pleas to break rules,

To be a revolutionary by heart,

To walk with our boots on across the dirt.

Live free, die Young.

To seek for freedom in the air,

To act like a fighter, today and forever,

To live young although I have lived for decades,

To live free is the only urge.

Live free, die Young.

A Soldier's words..

Front there, behind the iron fences,

ferociously with anger, to butcher us they were ready,

I smell a pinch of fear,

a drop of adrenaline rush within,

I stare at my friends, my fellow comrades,

the courage in their eyes made me assure,

we might bleed, not lose for sure..

Our General's spell of order,

was alike the Holy Book's say,

as he open his throats,

we fixed blades on our guns,

hallucinating in my heart

was my mother's beautiful face,

if I don't reach home,

there shall be tears from her eyes..

As they march towards us,

bullets drilled into my comrades' hearts,

one after other my friends fall,

within a while many men we lost,

a pain on my stomach pulling me down,

no time to see its time for duty,

might be a bullet that just passed me,

I know I won't die before victory..

I see my General, not a pinch of fear in his eyes,

once again he yelled aloud our war cry,

he asked us to be strong,

to fight until the last bullet,

to keep killing until we die,

he asked us to be strong,

said the God's fight on our side,

the bullets on his chest, blooded his shirt red..

I run to take my stand,

snatch the Tricolour from an enemy's hand,

hoist it high in altitude,

swear to held it high with pride,

the enemy numbers were going down,

our numbers less, yet the zeal much higher than them,

for the courage rested in our hearts

we win the battle after many wars.. 

The soils of the ground,

painted red with the blood of brave hearts,

few ours and few others,

the womb of our mothers,

cried their heart out

at the death of her sons,

all she did was wept after victory..

Message in a bottle

To all those who shall live with the seas,

Preserve my message until the end ends,

The sky has turned barbarous,

It yells, it shall outburst and then shed tears,

I fear this might be the edge,

Edge henceforth which shall have no sunshine.

For this sea might turn lethal,

It might has grab all into its appetite,

Breaking sandcastles and devouring the dreary deserts,

I fear it might even digest away the mighty flare,

Grabbing in itself might stories and legends.

Maybe humanity, it ought to turn freakish, as always,

It might blame the sea for its mistakes.

Amidst all, stories of legends and truths of today,

Might turn into the lost pages of history.

Thus I scribe all this, seal it in a glass bottle,

Oh mighty sea, upon you I throw the message,

Carry them on to the generations yet to arrive.

Ask them to be a little generous,

Change is inevitable, yet they can save the Earth..

Gloomy Valentine's day

He waited long, thought she would arrive,

every sound, every whisper that rang once in a while,

he thought she was there to be beside,

he turned his head, only to be disappointed again and again.

With winds and whispers, she was seen there,

he forgot his tiredness, hours that took test of his patience,

he stood up, spread his arms to welcome her,

deep into the warmth in his heart..

She walked towards him, bold and straight,

with every step of hers, he built a confidence,

thought forever that she was his and he was hers,

instead she walk past, he was just a stranger to her eyes..

He tried to heal himself, and yet every time broke apart,

he could not know what was wrong anyway,

was it the so called unlucky black Friday?

Or his love wasn’t meant to be his anyway?

Death is begining

Nobody has perhaps known,

if death exits or it don't.

If we live and tell, 

about death a fairy tale, 

it would sound funny,

with a hidden irony..

As we come out of the womb,

we see the trees and feel the warmth,

and our entry into the world,

is thought to be our birth in  the universe.

Is it so true or our leap from a different habitat?

Have we thought about a life,

where death ain't the end every time?

There might be an universe,

far away from us,

where our souls live as a family.

It might be possible,

we haven't seen death in our lifetime..

Submitted for Indiblogger

Please don't pull the trigger

We head to school,

To a place of love and brotherhood,

Thank you mother,

For the tiffin you made and the bag you packed,

We shall return very soon,

Don’t worry, its just another day like everyday..

Why are my friends bleeding?

Why is this apocalypse?

This winter was supposed to be peaceful,

Next January my dad promised me a new bicycle,

Why is lord that everyone around me cry's of pain?

Why is it that stains of blood pour along with rain?

O Sir, do not profess hatred,

Please hold your gun, don’t pull the trigger,

Don’t make this peace a dreary December..

I promised my mom that I would be back home,

Help me, don’t make my mother cry,

For the sake of your Lord, and the children who call you dad,

Please don’t pull the trigger, I promised my mom that I would be back..

I shall give you the chocolate that my mom packed for lunch

Please don’t pull the trigger, I love my mom very much..

I beg you, and bestow my head ahead of you,

Let me and my friends go, we are innocent,

Please don’t pull the trigger, my mother shall pray for your better future..

As you pull this shot and this bullet pass my head,

My last words to my lord,

May God give you wisdom and may you someday realize,

What you have done is wrong,

May you be taught benevolence and humanity,

May my Lord teach you a lesson.

Somebody please console my mom,

Rub her tears and hug her tight,

I know she’ll cry when she’ll miss me every night..

#Peshwar Attack

Intuitions of my last life

At times out of curiosity,

I sit alone, all in melancholy,

I think for myself in this life,

what I was before I died the last time..

I must have been a lover,

who died for his fille's beauty,

and so even today,

I feel her humming around me..

I must have been a revolutionary,

one of those brave hearts with Bismalji,

that revolutionized the incident of Kakori,

and so even today I feel that blood with me..

I must have been a writer,

who used to scribe peace and love,

who wrote of memories and charm,

and of the peace in his lover's arm..

I must have been that brave man,

who fought against injustice forced upon a poor's earn,

and so even today I shed a tear,

when I see a poor man live with fear..

I am not so sure of who I was,

but I am sure I was not the one,

who bought a tear on an innocent's face,

because even today I live that way..

I have reincarnated that way,

the way I was in my last life..

Submitted for Indiblogger

All the world's a stage

The moment when I entered,

I saw you sit as one among the audience,

I did my part in the play,

I acted my best, All the world's a stage..

The moment when you were sad, or felt low,

I jumped around like a clown in the show,

I hid my tears behind the colors on my face,

For you I did my best, All the world's a stage..

My tears brought fruit, you smiled,

instead of me, you thanked the man sitting behind,

you held his had, went away forever without any praise,

My tears got no pay, All the world's a stage..

The rose of my heart was thrashed,

by thorns and pains of life,

I choose to disappear, away to loneliness,

I left the play, All the world's a stage..