Home?

                                 This Saturday, lying on the grass near the not so wavering river and soaking the sun in the sheryl crow manner and enjoying one of the few counted days of sun in Germany. Sun- after hailing from the pan fried country, who could imagine to look forward to its presence and enjoy it like they had never witnessed one? So many things become different once you loose being in regular touch with them.So was the Sun, It became different for me. The days I see it on the full bloom,impelling its hot spell, I feel close enough to where I belong.Reminds me of home.And that thought brings the comforting gleam on my face.

                                 A sudden , the winds started blowing bringing the grumpy clouds slowly to surmount the tropical summer sun. Yet another remarkably German weather. It doesn't even take 15 minutes for the sky to transform from clear blue to bags of grey-black,blown-up gloopy water downpour messengers. I see everyone packing up their mats, picnic boxes, everything to get going.

 "Pri, lets go home. It seems that it will rain mercilessly. Get up, hurry. We gotta catch the tram" said my friend. With not much thinking and concentrating on the thought in my head, I obeyed to her suggestion like it was an order. "Home" - the word just got me into trance of feelings mixed with memories. 

                               Walking along the bank of the river towards the bridge to catch the tram, the word engrossed me in a different world of thinking. How often have I changed both -the meaning and the location of this word? The answer travelled as far back as the age of 7, Grade-2. My first ever notice that the word "Home" has no permanency.  

Back then, when I was leaving Dehradun I asked my mother "Ma, why are we leaving our home?" 

"Who said that my child? We are just shifting our home. Its still the same- practically. Home is where the heart is. Its not a building my baby." she replied. 

Since then I have always clutched to these words. And it was never too difficult to change places, with this definition. 

                             It started drizzling and I split that definition and ponder deep on it.I wonder - Where is my heart? It usually wanders between two places- occasional home-sickness and affection for knowledge. Both of which stand in different physical zones. What is the right definition of home? Place where my ambitions carry me or Place where my roots belong?

                           On the bridge, we heard the tram bell. We were just a few steps away from the halt station when my friend uttered " Run pri, Else we wont be home before it rains hard." Breaking from the chain of thoughts and questions which were self answered, I ran as fast as I could to board the tram. We managed to climb inside, right on time. 

I looked at her and affirmed her  with a smile " So, we will be Home now".  And I knew this is my answer. Here lies my Home. 

.....

The traditional demise-sudden outcries,

Upon colorless world, forever they lay,

I realize,life has become -

Sea of dry bones and dirt of sweat.

Final moments carnal-wind blows over,

Incessant graveyard stretch so far-

Hope's silent song so threatening,

Manifestation of nothingness.

My eyes cast down to wishes of dust,

I wish to sleep- but never to dream.

One day,here- I will lay,

Embrace the cold stone of my black tomb.

Perception

Sometimes I am dead hope,

A million dreams which lay supine.

A kindergarteners humor,

Drifting aimlessly in time.

Sometimes I am existance,

Carry life afar,

Make way through the toughest instance,

And bloom into another flower.

Figuration of budding life

or pale death-

I wander with strife,

Either for fresh green birth,

Or for an angelic end.

The Me in You

As the years pass,

A hated depart,

A part of me

lingering...In your head,

In your soul

try as hard,

throw it apart,

still I last,

right there...Inside of you,

In your sense.

The memories last,

Eat your heart,

feel my grip,

Invisible... I hang in you,

In your scent.

Look how far,

the mind has flown,

Emotions are seized,

resounding...to turn into words,

Aloud and afar.

Come as ahead,

Try to be splendid,

reflections will threat,

stealing...every smile of face,

past has its haunt.

your every move,

towards being new,

makes you believe,

hallucinating...the everlasting feeling,

you have a presence of me.

REST IN PEACE

Pleasure fully the lines on hand-

Start and end the life as innate.

Like the time in womb-

My province gets roped,

The skin shrinks dry,

Blood chills in the veins,

Breath asphyxiate for imitated chord,

Blue takes the stride.

Abandonment and repose -

Reforms my life.

How similar be ,

the situations of birth and demise!

Yet , both hold an alteration-

A state of liberty,

Assigns their distinction,

One comes with vitality,

Latter endowed by mortality.

BLEMISHED PURSUIT

As I grew up,

I wus told -

that passion is in every soul.

there is a dream that is a mirror,

reflecting the feel of hearts interior.

And every individual has a reason,

to follow or abdicate their vision.

As the road travelled when dream is seeded,

is pain and pother giving speed receeded.

During the scented spring season,

within me sprouted a dazzling pompon.

Its realization made my heart bounce,

sacrifices and tough rebellion-

triggered its rhythm to become ounce.

Cold and nasty winters arrived,

flight of fancy exposed to certainty,

battered to morsels of morbidity,

crippling the intent of my life.

In the bed,with faded light,

slumber howls to materialize,

Somberness takes tears disguise,

Anguish reigned for endless nights.

O Wintry Winds! sing in-depth,

lay a chasm on my demise,

Every gust through leaves,

Say a lullaby.

Help me sleep,

and let me dream,

let me breathe,

Off from this world extreme.

Paleness

the days get older,
the luminescence longer,
I am scared,
to watch this light,
that makes me blind.
And It gets me nervous when,
I know I can get shattered.
Feeling of agony,
search for harmony,
My soul can see the right,
It channelizes my mind-
to make everything matter.


There is a very thin line,
cuticlatious and plasmic,
not sparse and fragile,
thwarts my escape from light!
My ivy shadow stoops,
the throes of its clasp,
run through my trunk-
I am pale and discomfited.


Cold waste of years,
As everyday gets dull and grey,
I want to go to the other side,
to feel better.
The Darkness is void,
and it equilibrates my mind.
taking in the no element,
I asphyxiate,
from the detainment and-
turn into bloodless carcass.
In the world of the dead,
there is no broken asunder.