Sunset

I say goodbye to another day,
I say goodbye from the clouds.

It’s the end of another marvelous day,
I feel blessed again.

The night is here, like it was yesterday.
But don’t worry, I will come with a new dawn tomorrow.

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Hoping for blossoms

My throat is dry

I cannot see anything.

I wish for a drop of water,

That’s all I seek.

 

My farms have dried up,

So have my wells.

My hen’s can’t walk anymore,

They haven’t left their pens.

 

There is no joy in my village

The chirping birds have faded.

The gushing river is now a rocky terrain

Empty land surviving hopelessly.

 

Every pot in every house lies bare

Not one house has seen a decent meal.

Everyone has been praying for a miracle.

The masses await for rain.

 

A minister came by our village yesterday

In a fancy car, with his fancy ways.

He quenched his thirst with

Baseless promises and bottles of cold water.

 

Year after year we see this pain.

We survive this struggle again and again.

Comfort has never been our friend,

Ease is not in our fate.

 

I hope things will change someday,

Our village will be merry once again.

When the rivers will gush

And the birds will chirp anew.

 

I may not be fortunate enough

To behold that day,

But I desire

That my children don’t have to face the same fate.

The End

A loud crash,

A thump and a screech.

I rushed to my window to check out the scene.
A gory mess.

There was blood everywhere.
A whimper, painful,

Made that day gloomy;

Looming with despairity.
She licked its forehead, consoling it.

Offering some solace.

Helplessly she waited.
As death crept upon the young one.

The agony was an unbearable sight.
The matriarch yearned to see the conclusion; desperately.

There was no aid; no concern whatsoever.

Only hers.

The little one’s cries died down,

And a maternal howl filled the air.
I had been rooted to my sill,

A powerless onlooker of the event.
Support was what I should have offered.

But gape was all I could part with.

Love is a gesture

Love is a gesture
Its not made of bouquets of flowers

Or petals showering.
Its not in boxes of chocolates

Or in gifts.
Its the time you take out for them.

The food you order so they don’t sleep hungry.
The song that brings a smile.

The warmth felt on an icy night.
Its sharing the cup of coffee

And an umbrella in torrential downpour that drenches you completely.
Its holding out the door

And sharing the load.
Its the simple things that make it special.

Make it worth struggling forever.

A small thread

I shop for a rakhi again.

I will be posting it to you again.

 

I hope it reaches you.

I hope, it protects you,

The way you did for me.

 

You were the mischief in my life.

The reason my dolls were broken,

My toys remained strewn

And my pigtails stayed pulled.

 

But outside our four walls.

You were my armour; my soldier.

 

You have always protected me

From every enemy existent.

And today too, you protect me

From all the evils this world offers.

 

I can’t contact you,

Like we contact others.

As you are being a brother,

To every sister born in this nation.

 

So today, on their behalf,

I send you a small thread.

Anticipating it to protect you

From all the enemies of this world.

 

I will await for you.

Await for you to return home.

For there needs to be someone,

To pull my pony’s now.

They smile in brilliance

You shattered the glass.

A swift blow was all it took.

 

You tried to mend it,

Only to break it further.

 

You felt you were lucky to have that glass,

But, you pushed it too far.

 

Today, the shards pierce your hands,

Though you can never put them back together.

 

You should have taken better care,

You shouldn’t have kept pushing your luck.

 

See, it has now run out.

The glistening shards are the proof of that.

 

They had stayed together for all these years,

Only for you.

And finally, today they have found their shine.

 

Your luck seems to have shifted to them now,

For they have decided to glitter.

 

Though broken; in pieces; in millions;

They choose to shine despite the pitfall.

 

You have faced an irreplaceable loss,

And so has the glass.

 

However, instead of spilling their own blood now,

They smile in brilliance.

glas-scherben