Who Knocked?

Life moved.
I grew,
And I grew tall.

Neglecting routine reserves,
Thinking they were all mine.

Things that were once free,
Soon came priced.

The inhale of fresh oxygen,
Now, layered with a nosy mask.

The solitude of lush greens,
Patrolled by guarded cops.

The zest of barefoot run,
Lie inside an online yoga room.

The silence of holy shrine,
Deliver home-made prayers.

The crisp of morning newsprint,
Surface a lifeless touchscreen.

The joy of hand-picked dailies,
Shrink-wrap in a market app.

The sizzle of hot popcorn in cinema,
Couch on indoor live streaming.

The thrill of real santoor,
Play on headphones in playlists.

The ghazal of Jagjit,
Ripples nostalgia in whisky.

The fine dining impression,
Sit at home-made dinner tables.

The roar of 3.00 am friends,
Mute with Zoom call Hi’s…

The promise of our well-being,
Commit insurance in covid covers.

The retire of one’s sweat,
Trend live stories on instagram.

The peace of mindful sleep,
Hover with what’s for tomorrow.

The warmth of love,
Is touched with woody silence.

What happened… Who knocked?

It only said,
I give… I retaliate…

Absences with absence.
Affection with affection.
Friendship with friendship.
Loyalty with loyalty.
No more one sided feelings.
Feelings must be mutual.
Respect my being.
And I respect you.

I am Nature.

Blank Canvas

In you I see,
A million stories.
Some to capture,
Some to release.

Lets release,
Dry empty eyes.
Cocooned shells.
Little nothingness.
Hollow space shacks.
Suspended opinions.
And, some aimless desires.

Together lets capture,
White spaces.
Reigning designs.
Thinking pads.
Creative kick starts.
Endless possibilities.
New opportunities.
Focused goalposts.
Black dots.
And, seamless patterns.

Blank Canvas,
I say…
Is nothing.
But a perception.
Of shallow thoughts,
And captive ideas.

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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