The Last Breathe...

The first drop kissed my nose,

I was painting the town of my solitary chimera.

I looked up at the infinite azure, I saw an other,

preceding the avalanche towards my bare forehead.

I wondered how, I wondered why

this serene incessant erstwhile turn suddenly

into an iniquitous, ebullient author

of a malignant physical spirit?

The envision was affronted between the eyes,

as The fracas in the airs around hit my ears,

hard enough to slash me for a while

from the rest of my naïve illusions.

The idle senses sprouted back into the nescient pursuit

of elucidating my recent petition,

when they graded the occluding cognizance,

dusting towards their permanent paralysis.

Swirling around like bubbles, like the million bubbles

were people, some scuffling hard, some flowing still.

Souls seemed to glitter away from these vicious loops

and the blues seemed like the intimate medium.

The eyes wished to witness more, the perception

being conveyed, before they went to their final sleep.

The heart wished for one last beat,

before I took my last breath.

I think of you...

Every time, when the sun smiles at the earth,

I think of you.

Every time, when the wind does dance around,

I think of you.

It didn`t happen at the first sight

But sure did I see a bright light.

With the time waving away, as do t see,

You belong to a so different league.

Every time, when the stars blink to the earth,

I think of you.

Every time, when there is a thunder sound,

I think of you.

Some words might never be spoken,

‘The phrase’ might never be broken.

But every time I`d look around,

I`d find myself on the ground.

Every time, when the clouds have drops to cue,

I think of you.

Every time, when the flowers kiss the autumn hue,

I think of you.

You might never find out this,

That you`ll always be my luckiest bliss.

The way you are, you blow life into my core,

There`s nothing that I demand more.

Every time, when I walk down the empty streets,

I think of you.

Every time, when the heart does need a boon,

I think of you.

The spaces might grow to miles away,

The faces might blur with the years to lay.

But there`d be one for me to bless,

Whether there were a breath more or less.

Somewhere, someday, if at any turn

You find yourself confused and alone,

Remember there`s one standing all along,

Standing there just for you.

Why..

Science has given the ‘because’ for almost every ‘Why’ happening in the universe. This ‘Why’ has been colligated with every life since the day they saw the sun, seldom might`ve given it a thought upon though. I too used to be an indivisible element of this ‘seldom’ race before a few clocks earlier and believe me; life was far too simpler then, far too convincing. Right from my first day at school, ‘Why did you beat him’ till my last day ‘Why did you beat him’, from ‘Why are your shoes not polished’ to ‘Why are you absent in all of your ‘Hindi’ classes and present in all the rest’, from ‘Why earth revolves around the sun’ to ‘Why AIDS virus is the most challenging in its own type’, I`ve been conquering every one of them with a blink of an eye. But today before me is the most awkward and intriguing ‘Why’ that I wish I could skip, but I can`t and every time I think about it the more I get entangled…

Bollywood has been fruitful enough in mentioning all possible ‘How’ to the condition but what about ‘Why’? Don`t they have any province towards those who might face it out of the silver screen? And the biggest dilemma after all these nuisances is that I can`t even figure what exactly is happening to me. Is it my legs that won`t let me sit for a while, suddenly I have started loving non-stop actuation or is it the cold breeze in the hottest days of the year alluding me but none else, driving me to timeless comatose. After all not everybody in this free flown democracy says in a hot May afternoon, “It`s frosty out here”!

It feels so annoying when I figure that it`s the face-wash I`ve brought instead of the hand-wash after the morning show and when I see a pair of sandals on my feet life outside the temple gate that I`ve never bought in life and when my chrome thumbnails show that the link I visit the most isn`t any of my accounts. Even my starting lines on a new Google talk box goes sometimes like,'What do you eat there?' or 'Where do you get your hair cut?'. Just noticed while writing this one, 'Who starts his post with 'Science has given...''. Although I know that these are the symptoms of some, what people say in medical terms, ‘disorder’, but also admit that it`s not under any doctor`s scope to advice me of what to do about it. Sometimes I try asking myself a different class of questions, just for the sake of a change, ‘Am I imagining things?’ or ‘Do I need medical help?’ which surely I know can be answered by somebody and there is no ‘Why’. What a relief!

But ‘Why’ have I suddenly started thinking about ‘it’ so intensely?

And ‘Why’ the hell am I writing and publishing all these? Am I out of my mind?

‘Why’ am I all of sudden trying to work so hard even with simple questions?

Is it just to avoid the vicious ‘Why’ or to achieve "something"?

P.S. Insights are of someone`s, mine are just the words :P

My little "Grasshopper"...

You made me cry, you made me laugh,

You filled your eyes on my behalf,

You made me love, you made me hate,

You came to life to change my fate.

I saw you grow, I saw you fro,

I saw you bite your little toe,

I saw you scream, I saw you dream,

I saw you drain down all the cream.

You made the dolls, you made the calls,

You made me buy from your fancy stalls,

You sat by me when I got ill,

You pricked me every time against my will.

You jumped around, you jumped so sound,

The more you moved then made me ground.

On the rainy days you seemed popper,

I then called you my little "grasshopper".

You stole the sweets, I knew the deeds,

You made me trust your founded creeds.

You grew so fast since your lowest class,

You made some friends and had a blast.

You read some books, you took some notes,

I was always around to make some quotes.

You read so well, you read in stealth,

You ended up making your own wealth.

For the mother`s pride you went away,

I felt so damp that I couldn`t say,

“Every moment, every second, I wished to see

The beautiful thing ever happened to me”.

We meet today, we meet to pray,

I`ve still got things a lot to say.

You`ve given me a new crawler,

You still are my little "grasshopper".

The fear...

The true time was always mine.

But it took so long to shine.

Why didn`t you come a little earlier,

I`d have had buried down a long ago, the ‘fear’.

It had been everywhere I went, everywhere I stayed

Every time I faced, I wished someone to make it fade.

My implore ended the day I saw you, a day to cheer,

When you daunted ‘it’ to knee, with your contemptuous sneer.

P.S. Someone suggested to try out with shorter notes.