BoNgDrEaMs

..amn't I Glad?

2011-04-07T00:32:00.000+05:30

Fiddling with my shoe lace..

I notched my sleeves onto my socks..

Yeah,

I looked up;

Oh.. Audaciously gorgeous,

I gasped.

Did I tell you that you are pretty?

Did I exclaim??

Oh..

I missed, perhaps

I was too cajoled to say,

I loved you..

Bootless inquisitions are all over..

So are we!

Resistance

2011-04-07T00:29:00.000+05:30

The propulsive crater,

A broken ground..

A Tsunami..

They're beaten, shattered..

A crusade lost..

An enigmatic vista,

Snow cladded peaks,

And cold hearts..

A hot scorchy noon..

And a heated soul..

Caressing the roar of the sea,

Cold blue thrashes the gorges..

The escapes narrower..

I find nostalgia..

I find Resistance..

In The Dark

2011-04-04T23:03:00.002+05:30

The dark sky, seems darker..

Clouds encompassing the gargantuan..

Gloom its camouflage..

Life its victim..

Every hyacinth in search of a drop of dew..

Eyes hunt a honeyed moon,

Stars twinkle behind the foggy mass,

Life a bud, errupts.

I quivered..

With the slightest glimpse..

Looking Through

2011-04-04T23:02:00.000+05:30

The rattle of the rails,

I saw naked kids bathe in the rain,

A few drops hit the glass,and dripped down..

Nature's hazy Extravaganza..

Rivulets raced..

The fields were greener..

Meadowy lush..

Life's ecstasy at nature's abash..

I looked through the window..

I saw life ahead..

Innocence

2011-04-02T01:59:00.004+05:30

I find in the eyes of the maiden,

That you might live with,

I lie on the lap of an anxious turmoil,

I love to live, but..

I owe the heart,

Caressing the naughty emotions,

I adore the moist music of the zephyr..

With every tinkle of the dew..

Mores of the urban mortals,

Are hardly deciphered,

Innocence lies in the eyes..

In them love reside..

More you think, you succumb to live..

The more you observe, you live life,

Innocence deciphers life,

Are you innocent ?

Fatigue

2011-04-02T01:53:00.002+05:30

Wish I could think like a moron,
I would have been no hero,

Nor am I.. Nor do I wish to..

Then why do I live if I am no different?

Difference in mind,

Is no difference..

All I in my heart and soul,

Is an altering nuisance

I owe my life to myself..

I go by my instincts..

I love being different,

I name love .. but it stings..

Notions of life are all blurred,

Give me a soul who is SURE,

I am no writer,

Its juxtaposed fatigue that breeds..

Princess: Or Am I Dreaming?

2011-04-02T01:23:00.000+05:30

'M awestruck!! by the very gleam,

Oh! What a lit face,

Sweet enough to catch a beat,

Lovely! A moment of solace..

A lady in green,

An adolescent charm, a spark..

The brightness in her eyes,

Lit a beautiful, in the dark.

As a cast from a fairy tale,

Smiling,

A negotiation with divinity,

Felt, a heaven, over me was falling..

Her presence made me feel so small,

Metaphorically a barbaric decline,

That my heart squeezed to say,

'She is mine'..

On went the world, hurting

This priceless element of beauty,

I saw tears roll down those soft-shiny cheeks,

I felt I wasn't mighty.

Closed a closet full of emotions,

Ran myself over,

Desiring her happiness..

Made her smile come back forever..

Power Or Not?

2011-04-01T01:49:00.000+05:30

‘The Hare and The Tortoise’ - A radical and more or less a compelling shift from ‘The Tiger and The Elephant' paradigm.

While it was no less than a century ago, that an Indian was valued for his intellect or was considered as an envious presence in the global discussions, be it business or art. Was it before the long strides of Swami Vivekananda in the Chicago conference? Or was it during Tagore’s Nobel acclamation? Or was it as recent as C.K. Prahalad’s mastery over business that India won its fame?

It took the world a second global depression to believe that, when foundations are made strong, and family planning is weak, and when a country mothers a million millionaires using brains, it sure survives.

Without clouding ourselves with the feeling of blind patriotism, let’s consider the fact that not only the man power, but the quality of man power is what separates India from the rest of the over-population. Are we always backed by innovation? The answer is an obvious NO, but we sure are aware about what is right and where does this right takes us to.

In a country with 307,006,550 people of which 70% doing the right thing at the right time still has the less count than a country with 1,139,964,932 people of which only 40% are doing the same. This does back the success of a country and no wonder the cloud of being the 2nd or the 3rd world country is getting clear and its bright summer in India when the world is still moping off the snow of depression. The global leaders and thinkers who thought the East India Company went on in vain now realise how wrong they had been, and also what could have been better. To add to this, India is not only a consumer land but also a cost effective production zone that can add value to the global economic and social infrastructure at a simple cost.

Neither was Rome built, nor was this made possible in a day. The restricted and refrained standards of living paid off making the nation robust to stand as a giant, blocking a corrosive couple year downturn. Global markets have been foreseeing India and China as the two world powers and the final shift of paradigm proving it right has arrived and I am no less than basking in pride to be an Indian.

A Transition

2011-03-31T01:29:00.000+05:30

Lady..

You are no different from a soul,

That hunts for love in hearts of others;

Forgetting about your own..

Think for yourself..

Think sane!

Admittedly, you know no harm to harm you more than yourself..

Which is in itself an anomolous injustice done.

Why do you take yourself for granted?

While you know nothing is absolute,

In this fragility around..

Nothing is ultimate.. not even this life.

I see you cemented by quagmires

They're reining you back,

From destiny's extravaganza!

If you do, then act upon!!

You're soon gonna be a lady, start acting like one..

or you may falter at elegance!!

- To all my beloved ladies who are fighting for, or with themselves...

Hope

2011-03-31T01:24:00.000+05:30

Scribbling,

My heart onto a white leaf,

(more like a paper)..

Ink that is more magenta than black..

A jerk, and a spill,

More like an ejaculating mind,

Evolving bubbles of ideation,

In a way sprinkling dew on a hyacinth..

Oh! My pricking conscience,

A sigh, louder than the growling soul within,

I write,

May be for the crown,

At the end of a labyrinth..

As it seems..

I owe..

..Shackled

2011-03-29T02:18:00.000+05:30

Wish I could say how much,

I still loved you,

Wish I could find you,

More near my heart..

Why have I been hopelessly trying?

Just couldn't fill up my days,

How many times will my love mess me up?

Till I found you again..

Wish I could love again,

And be yours,

An ambush behind my heart,

Did my love wait?

Wish you would understand me yet again,

Love you baby,

From the very bottom of my heart,

Indeed I am hurt..

The Incident That Changed Lives

2011-03-27T20:05:00.000+05:30

The flute began on a melancholy note on chilled morning, one could feel the hexagonal flakes rubbing off his face...

It was Sir John Binghamton's funeral.. the coffin was arranged and the aristocratic family members led the corpse to the graveyard.

In a land where a child's birth is followed by the purchase of the burial space it's well imagined how likely it is for the family to weep on the funeral of a ninety year old crook.

Street urchins gathered from there half-opened eyes and an unawake mind, that someone great was being followed by a few more of the same kind.

A boy said, "Smart men eh..? "..and went off to sleep again..

Someone among the funeral procession heard it.. " ragamuffins..huh..!! ".. he smirked.

A give and take prevalent everywhere bore no exception here…

An open space wrapped up in green.. had patches of white marble and crosses all over it..

A zephyr added chill to the environment..and a few flakes of snow as if pushed in remorse of unholy souls.. at least some felt.

An old man with a half a foot long beard and spectacles pulled down to crib of the nose region stood in a black robe holding a book by his hand..

The coffin was placed in the grave.. and everyone stood in silence..

The old man started as a cognizance of Christianity and recited a few lines before everyone said "Amen"..

A woman in mid-fifties said," Father wanted this to be read at his funeral..", she brought out a rolled paper from her pure leather Gucci wallet..

She handed it over to the priest, and he read on..

“I John Binghamton, concur that all I have done was not right for almost eighty percent of the world population and I agree to the fact that I was no hero despite the people I fooled..

Communism was like sadism to the society… I kept my collars off it as far as I could…But at times even I faltered..

But now, as I think I am breathing my last few of my life.. I feel wealth and fame goes in vain without a proper vision..

Mine was to accumulate wealth.. while I overlooked the ruddy streets as bed for millions, when I cushioned myself in nincompoop pieces of luxury..

After realization, though I can do nothing more than helping a dozen.. I would not let my chance ruin as me in the grave..

I hereby present the cash I have to the street urchins by the next lane of my house, there stays a bereaved wife with a couple of roadside angels..who often makes filthy comments to the pedestrians,

She speaks of helplessness, poverty, exploitation and many more crude realities of life..

Though I bless my sons with the heritage mansion at the Notting Hill, I want you all not to abase the less-benefitted..

As you all prayed the fake prayer for my soul to rest in peace.. please proselytize yourself to the religion of humanity.."

The priest rolled the paper as it was and tied it with the string that the writer of the same tied it with and returned it back to his daughter Anna..

A few women had tears.. they seemed non-crocodile ones..those spoke of remorse..

The man who would cast doom on the urchin stood aghast with his lower jaw pulled down..

The funeral was over.. people dispersed for their respective residences.. a few took the same way they came to the burial..

A rarely fed squeaky voice said, " Look at the man, they are rich.."

Someone from the group of five said, " Even you are! A millionaire "...

"A Slumdog Millionaire "...

You

2011-03-27T18:24:00.002+05:30

When I see you,

I foresee love,

When you touch me,

I feel it..

When you kiss me,

I feel stilled,

When I see you smile,

I feel joy instilled..

Whenever you speak,

I feel, violins strung in chorus,

Charisma in you, fills the air around,

I really love you.

I wish every breath of mine,

Smelt of you,

Love is nothing but the cream,

Atop the life which you have rendered.

We Need Someone To Love

2011-03-27T18:23:00.000+05:30

From dawn to dusk,

Under the sun we bask,

In dolour, in solitude,

Fate is indeed hard to elude..

But in a way you still make me feel,

I wish with a pink-stone studded ring, i kneel,

To say, I still Love you,

'N can share the entirety with you..

Honey! let me tell you,

My love never falls due,

It's sheathed with care,

Don't make it an element of satire..

To save me from a curse of a tear,

Let me hold you near,

Let me pour you some more love,

We all need someone to love.

Before I Leave

2011-03-27T18:18:00.000+05:30

Is it me you're looking for?

Did you ever think of me?

Did you ever miss me?

If only for one moment..

Did you ever feel,

Being with me, by my heart?

Did you ever miss the touch,

Of my lips over yours?

Did you dream

Of me taking your hand, holding you tight,

Embracing your heart??

Making you cry the 'tears of joy'..

If for only a moment,

You thought of me..

Craved me in your dreams,

Tell me before I leave..

A Cultured Bong

2011-03-26T00:46:00.000+05:30

The hot zephyr,

In the careless noon,

Laughing satire,

A witchy swoon..

A ginger kiss,

To a lady near,

A hit and a miss,

Oh! Dear..

Seeking promise,

Love is at stake,

At my demise,

Wont I wake?

Requests are down,

A mournful song,

Find a clown,

For this cultured Bong..

Religious Insanity

2011-03-19T14:06:00.000+05:30

Did God speak out,

With regular strikes on the temple bell?

Or avoiding it,

Made a witch cast her spell.

Life is but a self-full leap,

Hugging & caressing the things we love,

Caring less for eternity,

Imprisons us not in a cove.

God never said I am many,

'Religion' made a many forms,

A million rules to follow and hunt,

A list of never ending norms.

We miss the entirety a lot,

A dream to share with all,

We miss a life together,

Forgetting divided we FALL...

..i Loved

2011-03-19T04:21:00.000+05:30

I see out..

Find dreams eloping,

Pricking mists droop..

I lie on a bed of thorns.. do I?

I lie by my past,

I lie on my belly with my cell phone..

Deleting texts, thumbnails..

All nasty memories, concocts to nothing..

All it seems a bygone era..

Mystic indeed..

Well to my oblivion, I stand

Away from her.

I damn each heart that brought us near,

I damn each soul that torn us apart,

I find my instincts finally guide me..

I find life ahead, beckons..