It's All Easy

I’m running so fast, alone,

But with time, a race,

This life, survival of the fittest,

The only rule applied, always,

My breath is stuck, it’s tough,

The hands are running, a competition,

I’m falling back, losing, no, not ahead too,

Low, I’m not, my head is, a will,

To go on, to achieve, the inevitable,

The unachievable, the impossible, unthought,

That’s my dream, I’m confident, with hope,

With belief, not in you, nor in time,

But me, myself, in my aim,

My future, my thought, to be true,

I was halfway already when I said it was easy.

Toli Yeh Meri

Samay ka pehlue, hai yeh zindagi,

Waqt ka paigaam, hai yeh bandagi,

Soch pe basti hai sirf yeh duniya,

Saaf ho bandhan, toh nahi hogi kahin gandagi.

Shuruat hai ajeeb si iss kavita ki,

Par hai khayal, koi aur, bhaavna, koi aur,

Banani hai pehchaan, khudki,

Nahi chaiye kuch mujhe, jab ho saath tum,

Bass tum, mere dost.

Kahaani hai, yeh badi si,

Shuru hui hai, par nahi hogi kabhi khatam,

Challenge raaste, aur saath uske, hum,

Haath mein haath dhare, liye shakti,

Ungli pe ungli rakhe, banaye hue mutthi,

Atut hai hum, ek toli, majbut.

Koi hai sher, garam sa,

Toh koi hai sehma sa bacha,

Koi hai kalakar, rangeen,

Jitne bhi hai hum alag,

Par utna hi bandhan hai apna sangeen.

Padhta hai koi, likhta koi aur,

Hasata hai koi, par rulata nahi, koi,

Hote hai matbhed kabhi, aur jhagde bhi,

Par saath agle kshan hai hum,

Misaal ekta ki, hai yeh apni.

Milte hai khayal, aur apne sapne,

Hai nahi hum mein koi antar,

Nahi ahankar anar, na hi krodh,

Chale hai saath, badalne yeh apna daur.

Naam nahi hai hamara,

Par hai kalpana anek,

Karna hai sab kuch, har kaam,

Hasta chehra rakhe, dabate nahi,

Uss muskurahat ko, unn aankhon ki ronak ko.

Chale hai saath, aaj hum uss raah par,

Dosti ki kasam diye, ek dusre ko,

Rahenge saath, yeh chaah hai meri,

Pyaar ho tum sab mera, karib dil se mere,

Lage hai aaj jaise, hai sirf,

Mein aur meri yeh sundar toli.

Asphyxiation

It feels like the end,

Like its all coming to a close,

The walls are pushing in,

And the light is fading,

Darkness is my companion,

Silence is my friend,

As the heart beats, steady,

Each thud breaking through the ribs,

The breath, slow, heavy, and far,

The floor rising, the ceiling, higher,

Growth is the sign, a sin, no,

The mind wavering, flickering,

So random, yet so true,

The thought, racing,

But I’m panting, gulping,

Slowly, the fear, spreading,

Just like asphyxiation.

Nightmares Of A Foodie

Festival time. Diwali round the corner, Christmas fast approaching, and Navratri just a turn of the clock ago, this is the best time of the year, especially for a foodie like me. The sweets and the savories filling all the boxes around the house would make anyone salivate, and yes, wish for more.

But how would you feel if the aromas mingled in your nasal cavities, and the tiniest sight of the boxes made you open your mouth, but then, you couldn’t taste even a single morsel, let alone eat it. That’s my nightmare. The temptation to eat something is directly proportional to the flavor of the dish. That doesn’t make a lot of sense to me as I would devour anything put in a plate in front of me.

But the nightmare. There are no vacations, and in addition comes submission week during Diwali. That’s not even comparable to the fear I have, and it all resides in one memory. When it all went wrong, and then, nightmare time.

It all began with a minute irritation in my nose, which soon developed into a resilient cough, and then morphed into fever. (Ice cream sometimes does take its toll, especially in the dry heat of October.)

Soon, all the lights went missing from the background, and all I could see through the day and night was the ceiling, and the incessantly moving fan. Most importantly, all I could eat was rice and curd, with counted grains of salt, and no spice; as the prepared savories and sweets delicately called out to me from their positions in the kitchen, which seemed miles away.

All my cries of desperation went in vain, and all my wishes just drained away. It was more than pain, it was more than just a normal fever; it was a day of terrible torture and the festival diluted away with time. Rest was all I could do, and whining was the only way to pass the time.

The rest had its effect, and the next morning, I was walking, and talking, but not yet eating. The layout of the kitchen had been changed completely, as I pitifully discovered on one of my pursuits around the kitchen (which included looking in the topmost cupboard for a drink of water). But, the sight at the dining table lightened me, and made me feel completely alright. There was my plate, with the special “illness” food, but it wasn’t distinguishable from the others. As I began eating, my face changed from a smile to a grimace, and returned, rather embarrassingly, to a smile when my dad began eating enthusiastically from his plate.

Well, that’s a thing in my past. It was about the feeling brought about only by family, and the things going unsaid, but being understood so clearly. That’s what children are to their family. They bring in the inspiration, and they remove the desperation; they bring in stability, unity, and also equality. And they themselves are the unsaid captains, being able to get their wishes fulfilled, without a word being said.

To mention another incident, which my mother loves to quote, like just…always. When I was a teeny tiny kid, the intake of green vegetables was a necessity, and due to my tender health, I was only allowed homemade food. My dad did not have quite a liking to the green vegetables (he still doesn’t have it as much as my mother does), but due to me, the child of the house, he was forced to eat it. And due to the prohibition of the outside food, all I can say is that, the reason for the good health of my family right now is just due to that, and my mom’s wonderful cooking, which is I guess the reason why I love food so much.

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