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Block

A writer’s nightmare – am I?
A pain on the roads – am I?
Sign of disruption – am I?
An end to consumption – am I?
Not sure who I am
Confusion at best
Or perhaps just an excuse for some rest

For you writer, I am a hindi movie villian indeed
To free your heroine – your imagination from my cluthes, you plead
Cause fighting me is no good, you know that well,
Just adds more moments to your personal hell
But I am just a mere block – to each his own
Seeking solace everywhere, but eventually disowned
Wouldn’t it be nice to be acknowledged not ignored or hated for a change,
if only my thoughts too someone can express
Just try writer, perhaps this will help you come out of your mess

Candle

I burn every night
to provide you some light
so that you can write
stories – each with a beginning new
Every new tale is a purpose well served – for my last moments few

With my help
you write new words
Adding life to characters new
Every night you create a new fate
And I feel empowered that this new world I helped to create

For when this life is over
I will live on
In the stories you wrote
characters you created
My life has a purpose
that seems perfect
Every fleck of light I have
has power immense
For every tale read by your readers ever after
will in each word have some of my essense

Artist

“Roshni, hurry up !” said Ramesh .”We don’t have much time.”

“Just two minutes…I am adding some finishing touches” said Roshni

Ramesh watched as Roshni picked a glitter colour spray and meticulously added specks of golden glitter colour to her work.

“Now it looks perfect 🙂 ” said Roshni with pride

“Hurry up.. it’s the Kala ghoda fest.. we can’t be late ..There will be lots of stuff there.. the people just come to click pictures and selfies.. no one notices the details like this” said Ramesh

“Still, I like it to be perfect, it’s my work” said Roshni

“Okay miss kalakaar (artist).. now let’s go” said an impatient 10 yr old Ramesh

The fest was about to start. Each tiara they sell today would fetch them 50 Rs. as against the usual price of 20 Rs. on Christmas.

Time could not be wasted. Who cared about some extra glitter on the tiaras that his 13 year old sister made…

Ignorance

Common friends were many,
Yet they noticed each other’s face.
Ignorance was mutual,
Still heartbeats increased in pace.

An incomplete tale was their past,
Feelings they thought would forever last…
But life had its twists and turns all along,
Soon the right choice faded… the relation seemed wrong.

"Mutual Breakup" was the diplomatic answer for friends,
"Moving on" to new beginnings leaving behind broken ends.
Both were happy in their own worlds now,
Yet social gatherings like these were still awkward somehow.

Ignorance though was a game well played,
Filmy situation it seemed, a Bollywood moment so swayed.
Background music was lacking, but drama persisted,
To even say a "Hi" – seemed a crime that both resisted.

And so went on a silent night…
Lovers had moved on, but two friends missed each other yet continued the fight 🙂

Lets start a brand new story !

Lets start a brand new story
Fresh page – blank, no past worry
Lets start with self, and weave a tale new
No baggage from the past, not even snippets few

Meet new people, make a new start
On the canvas of life, make some new art
An art focussing on self … listen to your inner-voice
Choose your own colours, don’t let others influence your choice

Not everyone can be pleased, nor will everyone leave
What matters most is that in one-self, one must believe
With self-belief, move ahead and live your new tale
It’s still a vast sea out there – unexplored, just reach out and sail

It’s not the end afterall

The ship may be broken but a boat survived…
The voyage was interrupted but the journey revived
Maps may be lost.. but new maps will be drawn..
Un-sailed waters will be covered, new routes will be born
An adventure awaits ahead, it’s not the end afterall,
Every great "rise" begins after the greatest "fall"….

There is this story I always wanted to write,
Never really got the plot completely right.
A story of love.. a story of friends…
Of a life lived well, no broken ends .

Tried writing short snippets adding to a tale,
Each time I tried, I would eventually fail.
The story still exists somewhere in my mind,
A tale made up from imagination and some memories left behind.

Sometimes the map proves wrong

Sometimes the map proves wrong
Distances short, are eventually long
Planned routes, may not be right
Destinations sought, may not be in sight

Waters shallow may turn deep too
Ships may steer on a course all new
Direction less and lost one may be
Caught in a journey, never to be free

Still the journey has a purpose, and that it will fulfil,
Wanderers will find ways ofcourse, there’s always a will
For maps may be faulty, directions wrong
Still every journey has an end, no matter how long

The travel then will be a tale to narrate,
Of experiences new, unknown to the world till date
New maps will be made easing wanderers new
The wanderer who survives the journey will help others too

An ode to Gautam Buddha

A prince in south Asia once,
Craved answers to questions many, didnt get a chance
Kept away for years from plight and sickness of many
He grew up, oblivious of troubles any

Until one day he saw sickness and death
Saw tears everywhere, old people he met
It troubled him a lot, what use were riches and pleasures of life
When death was an ultimate… old age and sickness for all was a common strife

How will then one find peace ?
How will one put a mind at ease ?
Bothered with these questions he left home,
In search of answers he began to roam.

Found renowned teachers, learned a lot
But still more answers he always sought
Atlast he meditated under a tree
Over there he was able to finally set his mind free

Won over his desires, was free from them all,
Jealousy, Anger, Greed, Fear, Lust and every troubled thought that could lead to one’s fall
A changed mind then.. led to a changed man,
Who changed the world around him, helped whoever he can

“You are.. what you believe you are !”, he said
Simple words, but profound effect they had
And so was born a messenger of peace
A saint who helped people put their minds at ease

Revered as a God, he was the best psychologist of his time,
Molded minds many, made even a killer shun crime
His teachings to this day are relevant infact,
Best practices always have the same impact!

And so ends a tale of the man who mastered the workings of a mind
Leading many ahead on the path to peace, losing all their pain behind !

An ode to Gautam Buddha – A prince, a warrior, a saint, a psychologist, a leader, a philosopher, a religious preacher and also a God !

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

In a cafe at night, he attempted to complete this tale,
His words he misspelt, his chain of thoughts would fail !
He attempted to write.. a perfect beginning.. and a perfect end,
Neither was possible, broken segments of the story, he had to mend !
That’s the trouble he faced, as a writer always…
Good stories needed high drama, twisted ways…
A single track written, never went well..
Writer’s block creped in…It was every writer’s hell!
Adding new twists changed the plot,
He never reached the end, he had always sought…
He tried to add an impromptu track every time
Even though it meddled with his story, changed the flow of his rhyme !
Old characters he created were forgotten in lieu of characters new
Who were the protagonists now of his story? He himself never knew..
And thus the writer who sought a perfect end
Tried writing a reality, which he could never mend
For every fix he tried, another end seemed a mess
His tale was going nowhere, that was his best guess !