LOVE - A Painful Friend

The moment I saw her, my eyes got blinded by those lustrous compatriots, which made me to realise that I need not see love, but feel it. Love is a terrible feeling, yet a painful friend. ♥

Let's Be Practical!

Sometimes things that you want to happen visit your dreams. But always only things that are supposed to happen, irrespective of your desire, visit your reality! So let's be practical!

Yeh Dil Maange More!

WRITER'S NOTE:
Hey guys! Those who felt my previous poem was long would certainly have a doubt whether I had misunderstood the real meaning of long after seeing this poem's length. But this is not an abstract subject, its sort of an epic poem. An epic poem HAS to be long! Therefore I took the liberty of keeping it quite long. It describes about a war hero whom I have not named. That doesn't mean its a true story. Its completely fictitious except for a couple of quotes in Hindi. Captain Vikram Batra, a Kargil war hero quoted "Yeh Dil Maange More!" by which he meant his heart asked for more. His last words were "Jai Mata Di!" Though the hero in my poem is found saying them, I assure its not Vikram Batra's story.

The poem tells about a brave warrior and also the scenario at his place when he is out on his mission. The "He" mentioned in the poem is the warrior. The poem has two scenarios ie. one at Kargil and the other at his house. The place of the scene keeps shifting very often. So concentrate and read it. The innocent wife character is too touchy too! And I would recommend the readers to listen to the Theme Suite of the movie Forrest Gump while reading this poem. I wrote it last night and listened to it in my iPod. What an apt tune for my poem?! Simply incredulous and a great co-incidence.here's the Youtube link... play it in the background while reading for a great feeling! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4c9EP0zNfdc

The poem really kept me awake all through last night. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I would rather direct this into a documentary movie if I'm provided with the required expertise, assistance and equipments!! So close the poem is to me! I hope you enjoy it too!

He received a call at the twilight hour,
From none but the Commander-in-Power,
The ladies at the house saddened much,
But the brave men convinced them with a gentle touch.

“Royal Rathores” was their fond family name,
Where all seven of them had shot to fame;
Now the eighth and the youngest of all,
Has got the chance to answer his maiden call

His retired father was a strict martinet,
Our then little fellow was busy playing the clarinet,
The enraged dad clenched it with a wrench
And made him stand on the Military Bench

Our hero was awe-struck at the number of medals,
His uncle immediately repaired the pedals,
Just to cycle him all the way to the Royal Garhwal Rifles,
The then teen, realised that the national services were no trifles.

Though he was then only twenty-two,
Gallant exploits were what he willed to do.
A skilled expertise was he in military,
For he was from the reputed Rathore territory

The only anxiety that he carried,
Was that he was unduly married,
To an illiterate yet charming damsel --
The one whose eyes endlessly glittered like tinsel

Our war man was stationed at cold Kargil --
Where he joined the bold hearts wandering on Tiger Hill.
He wrote an epistle to his father,
Just as his palms felt the agonizing weather.

The Rathores felt a decree of pride,
But the ladies would not be relieved until he arrived.
His woman was overjoyed hearing the letter --
This undoubtedly made her look much better.

The daunted war broke out at Kargil abruptly.
The warriors crusaded against the foes mightily;
They had nothing but their nation at stake,
For which they fought long after midnight’s wake.

The terror-stricken ladies conducted poojas in distress,
While their husbands clamoured, “Why can’t you be a tigress?!”
The innocent maiden secured her man’s mail
And thought of replying somehow without fail.

The valourous men were behind the enemy lines for a noble cause
And the common men wished them good luck with a chauvinistic pause;
While the Jawans renounced their lives for their beloved country,
Some ignorant and unpatriotic men only gazed at their television inventory.

The lady in distress had taken an anodyne,
For her man was striving hard in the dreaded mine.
She managed to get hold of a Hindi master –
Who could teach her the basics faster.

The confronters would take him as a Prisoner of War,
For most of his mates vanished in the fog back far;
Some of them died a brave warrior’s death,
But now he all alone had to hold his breath.

The opposing troop seemed to be around fifty.
All of them heavily armed and pretty hefty;
He settled down and closed his eyes shut for a while.
An exciting idea struck his mind which was worthwhile.

He slowly and stealthily hid behind a Military truck,
Behind which the hungry adversaries stayed to wreck;
He strained by closing his eyes tightly once again
And tried to picture his family and the tri-colour with much pain;

The mistress finally learnt to write a few words with intent
And framed a sentence which she would later repent.
“Piya, jaldī aap vapas aao, safalta bhi saath me latay aao”,
[meaning: "Darling, come soon bringing Sucess and Victory with you!"]

With a sudden burst of renewed fire burning within him,
He smashed the truck's fuel tank causing a din,
Dropped the grenade into it with epic force...
The giant vehicle rose up into the sky like a flaming bird
Drowning with it his last heroic words
“Jai Mata Di! Jai Mata Di!”

The sad news reached the Rathores through Captain Ross.
The inconsolable women wailed at their excruciating loss.
The men rushed away to the Regional Centre for a precise brief.
The mentally dead damsel had no life in her even to splutter out her grief.

The Royal Rathores were silently paying tribute
To their little man who received the 21 Gun Salute.
Then came fabulous news for the heartbroken clan;
The Param Vir Chakra was to be bestowed on their little man.

The award was for the champion’s unmatched gallantry,
Accompanied by his genuine patriotic genes and bravery;
The angelic lady cried when she heard the news
But admired her man for his courage and patriotic views;

The most precious gallantry award of honour
Now belonged to a deceased, but valiant owner;
The equanimous big dad felt his eyes engulfed in tears
For the first time in 40 long years;

His heart might have halted before the millennium,
But he certainly would dwell in our hearts for years to come;
He will be remembered as the one who made the final sacrifice
To make our Motherland a heavenly paradise.

The brave lad’s heart always bore
A self created tag, “Yeh Dil Maange More!”
Which will touch every heart to the core
Today, Tomorrow and for Evermore!

It's 365 since I last heard her voice!

It’s 365 since I last heard her voice!
Her last words were “All the best!”
I lay here on my couch deprived of heavenly joys,
With reddening eyes due to lack of rest.

She had come into my life
When I was busy trading my mind;
But then she plunged a pointed knife
Right through my little heart turning blind;

She is plausibly the best living statue under the blue skies,
The one who would belittle the stars’ twinkle in no time;
It’s unfeasible for an artist to create a facsimile of her with dyes
And it’s out of question for any woman on earth to be so sublime.

That pair of eyes was the best living twin,
The tears they’d bear were part of the costliest liquid on earth,
But now that she crushed my heart into the bin --
That moment I lost all my mirth.

Her letters were the best hand written prose,
Which I at times read around romancing;
Her attire often breathed sweet rose,
But now they are just nothing but tidy clothing;

I get nostalgic about those gleeful phases
When we used to roam about in nonchalance;
So I revisit those exquisite places
And enjoy her charisma in clairvoyance.

In a beauty contest in my reverie,
Attended by beauty dolls from around the earth;
There she comes clad in a traditional red saree
And hammers the finalists in style proving her worth;

We were accustomed to walking hand-in-hand;
One fine sunny Sunday I stepped onto the beach,
Probing around for her despondently in the dusk of the yellow land
For my love had met with an abrupt breach.

The enchanting voice still echoes in my eardrum,
Here I am day-by-day obsessed,
To me her heart is still an unsolved conundrum,
But yet I pray for her to be the Blessed.

An instinct deep inside me feels she’ll return one day,
As my love for her is unceasingly true,
I wish “Love never falters!” as people often say
And larks between both of us forever and grew.

Nevertheless, it’s just 365 since I last heard her voice
And I’m sure that before the world closes its eyes
That symphony would yet again be echoing in poise.

Eyes never lie...

You can express it in millions of innovative ways but none can outsmart your eyes! Remember... your eyes never lie! :)

Ignore the ingnorant...

People around you may at times misunderstand, misjudge or perhaps abandon you. But see that you make it a point to prove your worth and make them feel that they were absolutely wrong about you. You win, if they regret their actions and come back to you. They lose, if they still remain in worthless darkness. :)