Destiny

Is destiny my sorrow…
Or the reason of the deathly gallows!
Could it be my rejoice…
Else, my true respite!

What is destiny?
Who maketh it?

Thou is my choice.
My armour. My shield.
I am its creator.
In me lies its destruction.
I crumble it.
I resurrect it.

A spell of dark nights,
Stands a white stallion upright.
Paving the dim twilight,
I cross the dense woods.
Reigning a ride of pride,
I mount for my destiny.

Landing on happy surfaces,
My eyes greet ‘Monsieur Monk.’
Hands out two omens,
He demands; make a choice.

Son…choose black, choose white,
Carve thou best luck,
And climb the fate ladder.

O great monk, I replied…
Black is the robe of my scar.
White is my lucky star.
While I adorn the black,
I rise in the glowing white.
I maketh my own ‘Destiny.’
Destiny ain’t a choice to life.
Destiny is my way of life.

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Say a Little Prayer! A compelling read.

 

Om shanti…
Om shanti…
Om.
Chant. Recite. Scream.
Scream Loud.

Hello, anyone in there?
Can you hear me?
Its me. Hellos…

Ever wondered does God hear us? Do our prayers reach him? Since childhood our deep-rooted cultures taught us to pray. Prayers upon the first rise, prayers for the first morsel, prayers before bed. Prayers say it all.

‘Prayers’ – the tiny messengers to God.

From my kidding days to greying today, I’ve mastered my prayers thoroughly. As time grew my mental maths got much weaker but my prayers grew larger and stronger. Unshakable pillars engraved inside me, I guess.

 Truly undisputed. Aren’t they?

What is a Prayer?
It often makes me ponder. On a simplified note I’d rather say its my heartfelt convo with my 3.00 am buddy – God. Also it could be some kinda group talkathon which reels loud mantras and shlokas in bold chants. Is it a propaganda too of the societal rights and the wrongs we follow. Can prayer be ‘The spiritual habitat?’

Can a prayer compel me to look deep within and know the real me?

Prayer with Technology
Today, everything comes at our comfort lap. We need not seek hibernation in Himalayas and meditate with penance for days and months to reach out to God. Google Apps saved us. Our lives are much sorted. Technology helps us bridge the gap. Prayer is more of an User experience (UX) today. With the flexibility in its nature it offers an adaptable interface. One can program it and re-program it much to his/her suitable needs. All it takes is a simple tweet with a send button no matter where you are. The scores pomp a million views with a thousand likes on your desktop. I’m sure it has reached the palmtop of God too and now your prayer ought to be answered in a quickie.

 Are we nurturing a generation of mockery to follow the wisdom of Ai rather than the power of our own heartfelt?

I am stalking God
I follow God everywhere. Why? Because I fear. My fear is gripped tight underneath my heels and takes me places far and near. The dilemma of ‘What ifs’ is a choco-block in my head. Am I inviting some bad episode? Its like a game. One rule missed and the bad omen gets a ‘life’. The fear allows me to trade with God. Commerce is in my DNA. Bargains and exchanges become the primary oaths of my prayer.

 Am I challenging the very being of God and the immortal strength in prayers?

I am an Atheist
I don’t pray. I don’t believe in it. I don’t know its type. The non-prayer is my real type – my true religion. That’s my pattern. Prayer ain’t in captivity but in liberation. Prayer lies in a simple connect with the nature. The painter is an atheist. He hyms a prayer with his abstract. He worships the hues of his palette. His picture paints beautiful dots with God. The writer is an atheist. His pen conveys volumes of meaningful and desired conversations with God. The yogi is an atheist. His meditation is a path of zen to God. The warrior is an atheist. Courage is his release. And the strength to knock life back in its boots is his sole path to God.

To me prayer is what I send as a signal wave in nature and in return mother nature gifts it back to me. Prayer is in chaos and love, both. Its in a gentle smile, a warm hug and a cheeky peck of simple love. It’s a loud unheard voice of my inner silence. It’s the small humdrum of my soulspeak. Prayer is the faith of my will. It’s a discipline that I strictly follow obey its rules by heart. Its in the sublime power to submit to the light of my inner self and come in unison with the outer cosmos. Prayer is to heal me with my rights and wrongs of life. I call it my safety belt – my very own being.

I ring a prayer everyday. Do you?

: Perception

Clutched in shackles of bondage,
Peace is my destination.
Running cold shivers to the spine,
Tranquility is nothing but a perception.

I walk the aisle of fire,
Draining the truth in vain.
My gumboots ran cold in chilly snow,
Warmth is nothing but a perception.

Cold blood baths wet my land,
Loathing cries pain the new widow.
Sacrifice inherits delirium,
Revenge is nothing but a perception.

Violence ain’t any solution,
Vengeance is no justice.
The able mind to strum the right chord,
Happiness is then a real perception.

Happiness strings music,
Music plays harmony,
Harmony bridges freedom,
Freedom unveils salvation,
Salvation is then nothing,
My only ‘true perception.’

 

Sparsh! – A touch

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jahus_0mysI

Samundar ke tat par,
Aayi ek leher oonchi,
Khaara paani bheega le gayi,
Oof kya tumne mujhe choo aa…
Yeh kaisa sparsh hai tera!

Dooor dooor tak faili,
Ret ki lambi chaadar,
Komal chaav se lipti rahi,
Oof kya tumne mujhe sarahyaa…
Yeh kaisa sparsh hai tera!

Chadhta suraj apni jawaani mein,
Peeli roshni neele amber mein,
Odh lu kesariya rang chunar ka,
Oof kya tumne mujhe bikhraya…
Yeh kaisa sparsh hai tera!

O ri chori, ab sun le mari zara,
Halki muskaan ki meethi hasi hoon main,
Khaamosh zubaan ka alfaz hoon main,
Sulagti aag ki shama hoon main,
Dhadakte dil ki aag hoon main,
Dabe ehsaas ka raaz hoon main,
Rom rom ki pukar hoon main,

Teri rooh mein hoon main tehra,
Meera ke mann ka hoon main basera.
Kisan mein hai tera sparsh,
Tujse hi hoon main,
Mujhse hi hai teri leela,
Main hoon tera sparsh.

 

First Kiss! – On Fire Cultural Movement page on Facebook (Week 4 Poetry)

Halki hawa ka jhoka aaya,
Mohabbat ka toofan laaya,
Preet bano tum meri,
Honton se jo choo lo tum.

Udta hara dupatta tera,
Lipta neele aasman ko,
Khanakti kangan main thaam lu,
Honton se jo choo lo tum.

Reshami zulfein mahek laaye,
Rang isha ka yunhi lehraye,
Saaz koi chedu dil ke kone ka,
Honton se jo choo lo tum.

Bekarar dil ki awaaz sunn,
Sailaab jazbaaton ka behne do,
Ban jao tum wajah mere ehsaas ki,
Honton se jo choo lo tum.

Lamha – (A moment)

A blog in Hindi language, but written in English. Its a poem on ‘A Moment’.

Ek lamha tha jo chu gaya,
Kuch lamha woh aisa jud gaya.

Ek lamha tha joh hoton tak na aaya,
Kuch lamha woh aisa, naino ke lavsz suna gaya.

Ek lamha tha joh paimane ko na takraya,
Kuch lamha woh aisa, silvatein badalta gaya.

Ek lamha tha joh mehsoos na hua,
Kuch lamha woh aisa, ek ehsaas jaga le gaya.

Ek lamha tha joh halki aahat na sun saka,
Kuch lamha woh aisa, dil mein dastak si de gaya.

Ek lamha tha joh itefaak se mila,
Kuch lamha woh aisa, aadat si ban gaya.

Ek lamha tha joh yaadon ko talaashein,
Kuch lamha woh aisa, manzil ko aazmayein.

Ek lamha tha joh judaai se na mita,
Kuch lamha woh aisa, ishq se mil gaya.

Ek lamha tha joh zehen se na nikla,
Kuch lamha woh aisa, nasal mein bas gaya.

Chalta raha lamho ka yeh silsila,
Karigari bangayi hai ab zindagi.

Ae lamha tu hain kahan,
Khuda se hoon ab mila par rooh se tu na gaya.

Ek lamha tha jo chu gaya,
Kuch lamha woh aisa jud gaya.

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