Connections in the Universe

Success is like a bird - when it flies high it is prone (only) to be shot down. Failure is like a mountain - higher the altitude more are the chances to touch the sky. Women are like dreams - always leave us in a state of desire. Men are like jewellery - always like to gather attraction. Children are like god - how much they listen to you is reflected by how much you listen to them. Lectures are like ocean depths - more is their lengths deadlier is their effect on human beings. The loneliness of an introvert's soul and a mother's love for her child - the depth of both is unfathomable. Passion is like the soul - life without both is a dead one.

A soul's despair

I am a free soul, let me respire;
Don't be jealous of my growth and let me aspire.
I am a good soul, let me inspire;
On all the blasphemy existing, let’s call a ceasefire.
I am a brave soul, ready to jump into the fire;
For the sake of others, let’s learn to perspire.

Run, exhaust and dream on your own;
Don’t resist the calmness when you are thrown.
Thrown in the dark alleys of maturity,
In herds, not always but lost is the serenity.
Still a life is not complete in aloofness,
This soul desires for affinity with uncompromised grace.

Burns the fire as if it has no dear neighbour,
Its soul is more energetic than lovers’ in labour.
Pains of hardship are always greater than courtship,
Perhaps the free soul is not available to become a creep.
Toiled soul seeks the bloomed valley,
And doesn’t want to get shackled in a sophisticated alley.


Wonders the soul in his moments of respite,
One life goes by, gradually evading in the night.
Existing things flow away as ashes in air,
Life, relations, countries - everything and everywhere.
And soon things vanish from the layers of memoir,
Nothing remains there to settle and nothing to repair.


This soul is free from the rich and the destitute,
Free it is from the life - which is a hidden brute.
Yet the soul enacts everytime on this earth,
As a pedestrian, on a chilled night, looking for a hearth.
In each form, it is destined for the ultimate goal;
The question thus remains - "Soul, why you become uneasy in this earthly role?"

The Fighting Spirit

And then I fell in that fathomless pit,
To be honest I was young and fit.
Darkness was finding its way inside,
My pulse was struggling in its regular ride.
Eyes were tired, mouth was dried;
Having the pills my skin cried.


Blood inside me was deprived of force,
Force to cut through the valleys of its regular course.
The virus soldiers were merciless at my biological cells,
It seemed no one would live to tell the horror tales.
My senses were kidnapped as I lost their control,
And my strength was challenged from skin to my soul.


My body went musicless as my tired cells,
Desire to see my dear ones resonated as a temple's bells.
And the weight of hell was tearing me like pork,
Demons were eating me all with their knife & fork.
Perish me, O! God, with your speed;
And let me become a soul which is freed.


Words became whispers and hence gaspings,
Death and life seemed to me not separate but siblings.
Seeing them together I asked my soul-
Is this the end of my earthly role?
Heavily medicated, I rested my backbone;
May be another one or is this the last day known?


And years later when I remember that time,
Thank god to help me during my weakened rhyme.
And congratulate myself to have a fighting spirit,
That steers me out safely of every difficult heat.
Let us be strong from inside and let us nurture that thing,
It is your only way out of any suffering.

The Angel I Met Once

Seeing the girl, I was charmed;
Her electrifying personna had my heart rammed.
O! I wish I don't get departed from her,
For eternity, love to become this angel's admirer.


But she is like that wet surface,
When goes - doesn't leave a trace.
And I become the victim of this mirage,
Drowned in her thoughts passed my days.


And when I reeled heavily for her,
I fall asleep and become again an observer.
She calms down my nerves in my virtuality,
No tranquiliser can do so in the reality.


Wind was gushing in and out,
Her memory was around me as a silhouette.
Her materialization fluctuated in fore,
And my pain has its own beauty to adore.


My pain is so subtler than hers,
Cancer was all over her blood layers.
Each passing moment – she gasped to survive,
What could be more horrendous for a child of age five?


She finally responded to her caller,
Her pain relieved and mine got taller.
O! Angel may your soul rest in peace forever;
And my child – your father could forget his angel never.

A Nation's great son

Every country produces it sons,
Expecting each of them to be responsible and patriotic in the long run.
Every motherland is like an asset too close to heart,
Its safety is at the top of its soldier's chart.
These people are not carrying any ordinary thought,
They prioritise their country and then their life in each war they have fought.


A soldier maintains discipline throughout his life,
It helps him in walking on a path which is sharp like a knife.
He distances his family when he prepares for the battle,
Thinking in mind that this is the last one to settle.
And the battlefield challenges his bravery everytime,
His blood is spit in the war as it costs nothing but a dime.


He hates but cuts every opponent's pulse,
Around him cloud of wrath engulfs.
Sometimes he is victorious and sometimes nailed,
Dying for the country's sake is a duty where he never failed.
He sings songs of glory when he is down with courage,
That is how he seeks power from that glorified mirage.


For all these great deeds of a soldier,
For inspiring the entire nation to be fearless and become bolder,
Are his acts of chauvinism properly regarded?
Is the fallen hero's carriage sufficiently barded?
His family may remain in despair forever,
That too for his sacrificing and heroic endeavour.


Still the land would be proud mother of such sons,
In this age of hatred, swords and guns.
And the soldier's soul will always be content,
To live and die for the nation's past, future and present.
Lets swallow this truth and lets not forget this great son,
He who for us refused to have a dream of his own.

Money

Money! Money! Money!
Brighter than sunny
Sweeter than honey
Darker than rainy
A man, in its absence, becomes boney
It's not funny.


By this a man can make other a donee.
Having this money in many,
A man makes himself gainy.
Money's smallest and oldest ingredient is penny
By worrying about it a fat man gets converted to leany
Is very important to take care of my granny.


Its consumers are many
It's more glittering than greeny
By the greed of money,
The love between brothers and friends meets a tyranny.
Money! Money! Money!

Struggles Of Life

Once upon a time there was this situation.
A man in twenties had the prowess, the compulsion.
Prowess to shape things, compulsion to make good things,
He was well aware of his competitive surroundings.
Spark in his eyes to see and learn,
Although he was not worried about what would he earn.


Starting days were fine, every damn thing looked good.
Morning to evening, there were different postures of mood.
Learning was not easy, leave aside work;
Days were brighter outside, inside it seemed murk.
Still he treaded on the high waves,
Thinking he could make there one day his own enclave.


Then came the struggle period of life,
Compulsion to grow was sometimes taking shape of strife.
The balance was needed between all the games,
To find his own one among the successful names.
He was determined, although sometimes uneasy,
Planning out and enacting on it kept him always busy.


Days now seemed to pass very fast,
He who has that pace can have his laugh last.
Whether or not one wins tomorrow,
One has tried hard- no regrets are there to make him sorrow.
Let his body & soul bear the ultimate pain,
One has to live through the summer to enjoy the beauty of rain.


Thoughts were conceived but not executed,
Every now and then his ideas were persecuted.
Persecution of soul and mind was at high,
No time was there to think and sigh.
With hopes of good future he marched past,
Every that thing which had a lousy cast.


Each time spent was thoughtful and enriching,
Negative or positive - inferences were taken in.
The armour was growing from front to the end,
The catalyzing factors were foes and not only friends.
Soon it was going to be death of swoon in him,
Churning the milk hard can only near someone to the dream.


There were times with jubilant achievements,
And sometimes mood was down with hurt sentiments.
Such was the atmosphere around sometimes,
Only indictment and accusations were present in the rhymes.
Nevertheless, these were the testing times,
To make revolution a success one has to endure against all kind of crimes.


At times when his burdens became tough to handle,
The thought of jews' pain would come to his limits versus determination wrangle.
Then comes picture of all the suffered people in history,
And then he would start to solve the encompassing mystery.
Strength had to be enhanced at all costs,
Strength for endurance was required the most.


Hard times are there to test a man,
Invented by god, executed on all clans.
Someday there would be wine of success to taste,
But our boy is not going to get tired and take rest.
Everybody will sleep someday to never wake up;
Before it, lets face all situations without a hiccup.