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Song : Na Sahi — Movie : Socha Na Tha

Tum Raasta… Main Ajnabee.. Lagta tha kyun yeh har ghadi..
Aadhe adhure geet ki.. ek tum kadi.. ek main kadi….
Tumhein dekhke lagta tha ye… tum ho bane.. mere waaste…
Milna hi tha.. humko magar.. hum naa miley… toh naa sahi…

You were the road… I a wanderer… Felt like this everytime..
Like two stanzas of a broken song… Two lines that complete a rhyme…
Everytime I saw you.. I knew you were the one  for me…
Together we were meant to be.. we didn’t meet though… let it be…..

ARR–Another Random Rhyme

A story started.. with a plot new..
Marked by twists many.. written in words few…

Words unspoken.. faces forgotten..
Memories many.. some good.. some rotten

Had moments high.. had moments low…
Had moments uncategorized.. hung in the flow…

Remembrance came easy.. but forgetting was tough..
There was a smooth end to the tale.. but the memories are rough…

Some turns taken.. some missed…
Moving on.. in search of a random bliss..

How easy…

How easy it was to pluck a flower..
Regardless of the effort that went in planting it.. and letting it thrive,
For one day, it would have wilted away…anyways,
No point was left.. in letting it survive…

How easy they say is to move on..
From memories created.. and times lived by,
As if destruction is a solution.. when things go wrong,
Regardless of the creation, a relation.. that had reached it’s high…

How easy, these days, to cut the strongest ties..
As if emotions implied at one time were an illusionary trance,
Seems  preference is given more to final goodbyes,
Not letting a connection survive.. give it another chance…

Random writings…

 

All are disillusioned.. chasing their dreams…
One desires gold.. for another even copper gleams…

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Everyone cries.. for what seems the greatest pain…
One faces drought… Another laments rain…

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An oneirophobic struggled to sleep another night…
Hoping to find peace in dreams.. and not another fright !

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He tried to write a tale too long…
Lost track in between.. wrote it all wrong..

In a cafe at night, he attempted to write another tale,
His words he misspelt, his chain of thoughts would again fail…

He attempted to write.. a perfect beginning.. and a perfect end..
Neither was possible, broken segments of the tale, he had to mend…
That’s the trouble,. he faced as a writer always..
Good stories needed high drama, twisted ways…

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He tried to survive a night too cold…
Shivered to death as per the tale retold

His tale was short…with words too less…
The plot hardly mattered.. no one heard it I guess…

He was once a writer…failed at his work…
Unread his writings remained..he just had no luck…

He disappeared that night… gone away forever..
Remembered by none.. as if he existed never…

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The Box

It was just a box… though trapped he felt,

Lock there was none, still like a prison , in it he dwelt…

The Box was his mind, an maze of emotions…

Bright in parts, too dark in some portions..

 

He wanted to escape, find the exit to this maze,

Amid dark thoughts, he was just lost in this haze,

Still struggling he is, perhaps someday he will succeed,

Leaving this haze behind, towards clarity he will proceed.

 

The Box has no lock, but will have a key,

To open up and expand, from negative thoughts be free,

The seeker searches for this key, his holy grail,

He feels trapped every moment, still for freedom, his strife will not fail.

A warrior once fought,
A battle too great
Valour he had… Recognition he sought,
An identity, for which all his life he did wait.

For he was a foundling, abandoned at birth,
Born a prince, son of the sun,
Skilled he was, yet struggled to showcase his worth,
In the testing ground of princes, he was the odd one

With no words to speak, and head hung low,
The warrior was about to retreat, losing to his fate,
But among mocking princes many, one stood out, cried "Hello !"
"O Noble Warrior.. don’t go please wait"

"He is skilled and meritous, fit to be a king,
And so I declare him one, his glories everyone will sing !"
In that fateful moment, a friendship was sealed,
A debt too heavy, under the burden of which, the warrior always reeled.

As history knows, the warrior soon faced a choice,
During the most illustrious battle of his life !
He knew now of his family, a time to rejoice,
But alas they were his opponents, this was his strife.

Yet to fight for his friend, was his duty at present,
He controlled his emotions, not let them flow in the moment,
The world knew him as a villian, yet he was just a victim of fate,
The choice he was presented with, came rather too late.

A righteous man he was, and stuck to his codes,
Genereous and kind for which he will win applauds,
His code was clear, he couldn’t betray his friend,
Even if that meant, an end to his family, to his existence, to his truth, his identity’s end.

And so a warrior once fought,
A battle too great…
Succeed he did not,
But then.. his righteousness stood the test of his fate.

The ship ain’t broken…

 

IMG_6523-002

 

Among heavy tides it sailed and crossed oceans many,

Stood upfront to sea-storms and hurdles any,

Withered with time, now old it is, not perfectly right, still not wrong..

The ship ain’t broken, just out of shape.. soon it will go on…

 

Over time it has sailed all of sea, it’s high’s and low’s,

Withered it may be now, still it survived nature’s tough blows,

A beauty it was of wood, a beauty it will remain,

The ship ain’t broken, just a li’l damaged, will be mended again.

 

Life’s Like That…at times it seems, a ship wary from it’s course,

On a stormy voyage, the ship is steered, unable to withstand, fate’s untimely force,

But a sea is incomplete, without it’s tides both high and low,  a ship must withstand the the same,

Life ain’t broken, just off the route perhaps, at dawn, a new voyage it will claim.

Writing was…

Rhymes came easy, simple they were,
A clever play of words, to anyone it could occur,
Yet he made it his forte, his love of life,
Writing was his passion and also his strife.

A poet he was, one that never made sense,
I must say he rhymed well though, a point in his defense,
Sometimes though rhyming could be crazy, make him write stuff too insane…
Writing was his boon and also his bane.

An addict he was of tales too many,
Wrote many of his own, happy endings weren’t any,
Though he always started a tale on high notes, couldn’t end it so well..
Writing was his heaven and also his hell…

In despair he walked…

In despair he walked.. searching all night,
At dawn it was..when one saw.. his first ray of hope.. his light !
The night was dark indeed.. but not meant to last long,
A right destination awaited.. on the journey that seemed wrong.
For all the wanderer did.. was listen to his heart,
The end was happy after-all.. even though it was a troublesome start…

The last song of the night

A writer immersed in writing…trying to write a song,

The song that would summarize his life – all good days and days that went wrong.

The song, that would also be an ode, to numerous nights like this one,

When the writer tried to write, random rhymes filled with pun.

 

Mocking oneself at writing, and life in general that was,

And losing oneself in one’s own thoughts – moments of bliss-filled pause.

The last song, a writer writes, his last attempt to be good,

His finest attempt to be creative, rhyming on, perhaps…as best as he could.

 

The last song of the night,

A writer’s attempt to set things right,

In fiction perhaps, write a reality new,

And sing it thereafter, in synchronous words few,

Set a new rhythm, to groove on,

Singing ahead till dawn,

That’s how this song went by,

A twisted tune, to the beats of which… time will fly,

In faded time, memories too will fade,

To a tattered past, a goodbye the writer will bade,

His is an attempt to set things right…

As the writer writes.. the last song of the night.

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