end of a quest ....

In search of happiness I kept roaming a - while,
among the woods and along the rivers,
inside the ocean and beneath the mountains,
rummaging through the passionate breeze and
peeping into the soothing curtain of rainfall.
I hopped among the cotton clouds,
and jumped over the moss meadows,
ran against the lunar tides and
crawled across the dream landscape,
sobbed sitting at the corner of a mountain road
and wept below the summer noon
in search of peace.
And then, suddenly, one fine morning,
my quest comes to an end with a realization from within
that I don’t need to search for it elsewhere, for

happiness lies in the smile on my lips,
on the tint on my cheek that glows;
peace is there in my mind where goodness stays,
also, in my heart that can love innocent, and prays.

Your Smile ...

A smile
from you make me forget
the whole world and
fly, spiraling higher, in a steady flight
into the clouds and rainbows.


Your smile
liberates me from the world’s
tussle and hassle.
I drink in every single drop of it,
that slip from your radiant soul.


When you smile
The sun rises at a far-away coast
spreading warmth and sparkle,
making me believe that there are
another sky, vaster, lurking behind.

For your one smile
I run miles to come to you,
my long journey coming to a final halt;
the vibration
pouring over my soul
like a fresh falling rain.


Your smile
engulfs me,
its echo resounding in the space
within and around me,
making me hide my face
in its velvet layers.

Your smile
tells me: Lean on me, woman,
I will carry your burden.

Waiting ...

He waits
perpetually and forever,
for a renaissance of love and peace,
for an embrace,
where there wouldn’t be any verdict;
for a time,
when he wouldn’t be asked to prove.
Sitting at his secret corner, at the roof top,
among the mute antics of the bats,
walking along the crowd that frenzy past him,
getting drenched in a torrential downpour,
or sitting forlorn in his cluttered room;
while fighting a battle of words,
trying to establish or justify non stop,
or later, even while making love to his beloved,
he waits
eternally, always,
for one understanding,
for one precious moment
to lose himself in a hold, in a cuddle
of arms that are
opinion less,
judgment less.

Attitude ....

-
Give me a handful of freedom
so that I can be the delight of life.
Give me a handful of happiness
so that I can be grateful to nature.
Give me a handful of passion
so that I can have a purpose in life.

Give me just one hearty laughter
so that I can conquer the humankind.
Give me at least one song to be called as mine
so that I can restore a moment to be cherished.

Give me a handful of admiration
so that I can walk holding my head held high.
Give me a handful of faith
so that I can love you all over again.
Give me a handful of everything
so that I can have the abundance
to be myself!

And then,
I look into the mirror and
see a pair of eyes,
a bit apprehensive
yet bold and steady;
I straighten my shoulder,
tilt my chin, and
hold my breath
to confront and accept
each and every layer
of truth and life.
At that juncture,
I know; even if you don't give me anything
I will accumulate it myself, anyways!
I will live life with fervor, anyways!
I will be myself, anyways!

Escape ...

I wish to escape, now,
silently, tiptoeing away
from this dins and bustles,
hooting and hustles,
from the cataract minds,
inaudibly,
without leaving
any echo of my footfalls,
without letting you know
the whisper of my breath;
holding the relics of my hopes, clutching the silhouette of my last lingering dreams and
embracing a few stolen memories,
now I wish to go away and hide
into the violet skyline
where I can keep my head
on the tousled monsoon clouds and
sleep peacefully.

Ghost ...

Before,
I did not use to believe in ghosts or spirits.
But since past few days,
whenever I look into the mirror
I get convinced more and more,
staring into those
dark eerie pair of eyes of a stranger,
that someone named Pain has
entered my body and captured my soul.
She has made my skin colorless,
lips parched, forehead wrinkled
and limbs chapped and cracked.
The scab of my soul is peeled apart,
separating me from my shadow.
Pain has gnawed into my heart
and clawed my breath
like an alien apparition.
She keeps whispering from within me,
paralyzing my strength,
destroying my will;
she tells me now:
I will give you freedom,
Come, let’s commit suicide.

A lovestory ..

He composed a song
of aching love,
whispered his music
into her ears,
sang the melody
of his heartbeats,
and hummed the rhythm
of pulse throb to her.
She listened in earnest;
every chord of his longing,
every beat of his pain.
She let everything
get poured
into her heart,
droplet by droplet.
At that moment,
when the falling rain
kissed the sea
at a distant shore,
Love was born
waking two souls,
hope was created
in a barren desert land.

Engrossed,
what they didn't notice
was the sudden breeze whipping past,
trying to caution them, about the
mammoth task of helping Love
to grow,
as Love is the only permanence
that changes every moment or so.