I REGRET............

This piece was written on the background of a very important event that took place during my stay at Ranchi. It was one of those moments where a feeling of guilt overpowered me. But nevertheless, this incident taught me a lot. More details to be given only on personal contact.

Evenings ‘ll call the Night, Night urge the morrow,

Months turn to years, yet my cup of sorrow,

Shall I sip – uncomplained; that look of yours,

That grieved, yet calm look, had opned the doors,

For storms, ‘th intent ravage, ‘n shelter they took,

At Eden Gardens; my conscience was all shook;

My love’s candle, yet, doth not flicker, it burns,

Ah! You’re my flame, leading me through turns;

In valleys dark would I be,

Bereft of you my flame,

All challenges you help me tame,

So light my candle – my earnest plea.

Sonnet 3

No people stopped, nor time did wait,

At my love’s – my poor. dear love’s – fate;

For those seconds, do I repent,

In deep mourning, which I had spent

When, without much ado, she returned,

My heart, till then, for her it burned;

A wise man’s words, they let me see,

That tears futile, and I was free;

Time flew by, her memories lost,

Seldom our paths, since then have crossed;

Reset priorities had I,

The limit being, the deep blue sky;

Yet grieves my heart, to see how swift,

They fall in love, and out of it.

Sonnet 2

Wants know no limits, resources do,

Is it reason enough, for wants to subdue?

A bit of cash in hand, by means not so fair,

Ah! That you can forget, offering a simple prayer;

Prices of things, are doubling all too quick,

For your dreams to be shaped, you have to play a trick.

In silk is when your mistress clad,

And children with their gadgets, so glad;

On you will they shower, their love, so shammed,

It’ll grow, this love, marking your pockets crammed.

Things for which, will people skirmish,

Will be at your feet, the moment you wish.

For peace of mind, it’ll fall short, though,

And fraudulence won’t give, your face any glow.

Sonnet 1

You may have the courage, the art or the skill,

To search for gold, in the land you till;

To turn the tide, when typhoons blow,

But death comes knocking, and there’s nowhere you can go.

Death is a leveller, I’ve heard people say;

No matter how far, you’ve gone on your way,

It brings you back, one fine bright day,

Mocking o’er powers, on which you held sway.

The king and the pawn, in the same box they rest,

No matter in the game, who gave his best.

In its inevitability, lies death’s fear,

The tick of the clock, and it comes but near.

Yet Tis’ the kings who reign, his statues we mould,

And songs sung for those, who find their gold.

................To The Creator...................

( Written for Vinay Bhaiya )

The yellowish tinge of the rising sun,

Hiding ‘tween hills, as it begins its run,

But neither this, nor a hundred roses,

Or gentle prophecy of the Muses,

Do I find as pleasing, as voice of yours,

Which unlike the sun, can open all doors;

A glimpse of yours, lets me not stray,

And sight does drive, sorrows away.

As gems are priced, no gem you are,

Nor roses too, they go not far,

‘ A legend ‘ some say, some opine,

Your godly face, they see to shine.

I fail, yet try, to be like you,

Its tough you are, as pure as dew;

Words too, they fail, to speak of you,

I promise though, to have all through,

The flame of love, for you which burns,

For all my life, by all the turns.

.......................PAIN........................

Fields, would bear not crops,

Being bathed in water drops,

And in the sun so bright

Alone; tis’ needed all right,

But plough’s pain, its sting,

This in reality does bring,

Sweet success : to eyes this is seen,

Through pains which it has been,

Lose remembrance, all too soon,

They are though, the real boon.

Imparters of zeal, and of vigour,

These traits it does trigger,

In souls having known,

The pleasure of pain, and grown.

Like snowflakes on a mountain top,

Pains eventually do drop,

In valleys of oblivion, they lie.

But if you did, or did not try,

Etched for perpetuity, it stays,

For the your life, your nights and days.

Honeyed be every path we cross,

Pleasure would lose its charm, its gloss,

But buttered bread, after starving nights,

Tastes better ‘an all the pleasurely bites.............................................................