Tumhari Dosti

Behka hua hai mann,

Aur sehemi hai yeh saansein,

Daud rahi hai tez yeh ghadi,

Aur ban rahi hai nayi yaadein.

Suhane pal hai yeh zindagi ke,

Saath tumhare aur tumhare bin,

Lamhe hai yeh behtareen,

Aur tezi se kat rahe hai din.

Saath tumhara hai priya,

Aur hai dosti pyaari,

Waqt tumhara hai kimti,

Bass tum ho puri nyaari.

Tumhare sang ki hai zarurat mujhe,

Nahi hona tumse kabhi juda,

Ho tum sabse shreya,

Isliye rehna hai saath tumhare sada.

Tum ho ek kaaran,

Meri muskurahat ka,

Aur tum hi ho kaaran,

Nayi subeh ki chaahat ka.

Sama raha hai khushnuma,

Par baaki hai anek kshan,

Raho tum hamesha saath,

Toh hasta rahega yeh mann.

Shukriya aur maafi,

Rahe hai paas, par hai door,

Lagta hai mujhe ke,

Tumhare saath ke liye hun main majboor.

Voh chanchal hasi,

Aur haseen tumhara chehra,

Madhur tumhari boli,

Aur dil tumhara khushiyon se gehra.

Karti raho mera mazak,

Aur dikhati raho mujhe sahi raah,

Raho tum sada paas,

Bass vohi ek chaah.

Ho tum sirf ek is jag mein,

Nahi bana tumhare jaisa koi aur,

Bitate rahe hum saath samay,

Aur kabhi nahi ho khatam hamara daur.

Break The Brake

It’s been a break,

A brake, in life, the words,

The time, its stuck,

Not coming, through,

Not flowing, smooth,

Not running, like an engine,

Oiled, but creaking,

And groaning, whining,

Wheezing, I’m not, old,

Just tired, far, from the fire,

Extinguished, the light,

All gone, half burnt cinders,

Smoking, hazily poking,

Their head out, giving light,

A fight it is, against myself,

To write, to compose, myself,

And a rhyme, a poem, a story,

A journey to Rome, roaming,

I am, getting sharp,

All ways, not the head, just,

A day too long, I’ve waited,

A tad, more than needed,

To think, to pressure,

To get the feel, the motions,

Emotions, pushed together,

This is all I feel right now.

Random

I’ve become slow, a bit,

Too low, but not gone below,

I’m here, but I’ve lost,

Time, and there’s a rhyme,

To this, verse, I need,

To curse, someone, anyone,

Not you, readers, now just,

A few, too less, I guess,

I’m old, out-dated, not really,

But bold, to get out of the fold,

And say, go make hay,

While the sun shines, I can,

Read the signs, and between the lines,

Walk past the mines, save myself,

For later, time is all I care,

About, don’t shout, or pout,

Damn those selfies, rated,

Over rated, and hated, by many,

But not, by most, a majority,

And I’ve gone, off topic,

Though this isn’t a biopic,

Or even epic, in a sense,

I’m tense, the feeling,

Is immense, and at the expense,

Of a reader, or two, I’ll write,

This, to fight, no, to claim,

No, nor to tame, you,

My thoughts, no, I can’t, say,

Well, I’m just random.

Repercussions

The elderly figure dressed in black ambled to his chair, as the whole room rose to honor him. The quiet resumed, and the man at the head of the hall began, “The jury has decided on a sentence for Rick Jordan. For his repeated and relentlessly cruel crimes of harming children and subjecting them to abuse, the court agrees with the jury that the accused is guilty.”

The people broke into hushed whispers, as Rick glared at the Judge, his eyes revealing nothing, just throwing silent daggers, at the man in black, who went on.

“The jury wished to allow the accused another chance at life, provided that he live in solitude, dying a bit everyday in a prison cell. The court does not deem that as punishment fit for a man who has committed such devious crimes, and has performed such inhumane acts. The court has decided to invoke the death penalty.”

The whispers returned, but only in the distance. Rick stood there, motionless, his eyes glassy; the lights of the chamber dimmed, and it was as though he was the only one present in the room. Like he was alone, just like that day; there was no one to comfort him, to wipe his tears, to feel his pain, to make him feel alright, again. Nobody to stop the blood, or to clean the gore, to lift him up, and to say that life would be fine again- nobody.

The gloom of that day returned, but the pain didn’t. He was satisfied, with himself, with life; it was as though he had obtained the revenge he had started out for; as though he was at the top of the world.

The darkness peeled as Rick walked down the lane. Whistling into the dark night, he walked into the drive of the last house. This was where the warden lived, the man who took care of him, and of the whole orphanage, where he had been for as long as he remembered. This was home for him, and the other children and the warden were all he had for family.

Getting to have dinner with the warden meant he was special, and it really did seem special, especially as the warden had called him alone, and that too for the first time in the 8 years he had been here. He would now look down at his friends, and with that thought, he raised his head higher, and his step took a new lift.

He slowly opened the gate, and walked towards the welcoming white door. A delicious aroma wafted from the open window, and he could see the warden walking around the kitchen busily. The haughtiness still in his stride, he knocked on the door, and waited for it to open. Seeing Rick, the warden’s smile widened, and he ushered the small boy inside, into the waiting chair, warm and cozy in the cool weather outside.

“Hello Sir, thank you for inviting me over.”

“It’s my pleasure Rick, which you shall realize as the evening proceeds. Can I tempt you to a cookie as the steak cooks? I’m a late eater, so I cook late, hope you won’t mind that?”

“I would love that Mr. Warden.”

“How do you like your steak, Rick?”

“I haven’t tasted it ever, so I don’t know. Maybe I could tell you after I have it.”

“Well, the trustees of The Home don’t provide that much for me to cook you all steak every day. Well, that’s why I call some of you over for a meal, some special ones.”

“Thank you Mr. Warden.”

“Oh wait, I forgot to get you that cookie. And how would you like some orange juice to go with it?”

“That would be just so awesome Mr. Warden.”

“I’ll just be back with the cookie and your juice, my child. I’ll also check up on the steak.”

As the warden walked back into the kitchen, his eyes twinkling with an emotion Rick did not know yet, a weird smell rose and tickled him in the nose. Following it with his senses, Rick got up from the confines of the soft chair and trudged towards the closed door, his eyes taking in everything between the chair and the door. Hearing the warden come back, he ran back to the chair, and sat down, impatient for him to leave him alone again.

Munching the cookie, Rick looked around and waited for the warden to leave him again, so that he could get back to exploring the closed door. As he bit more into the biscuit, he felt a strange heaviness in his eyelids and a new lightness in his body. He wished to just let go, and fall to the ground; to just close his eyes, and wander into the expanses of his dreams. The last thing he remembered seeing was the warden sneering evilly. When his eyes opened, there was just the excruciating pain, and he hoped that it would be the last sensation he felt in his life, he just wanted it to end. His eyes picked the surroundings, and he realized that he was in the closed room. With the realization, the darkness returned, and he lost consciousness. Again.

The sound of the gavel brought him back to the present, chamber as the uniformed men raced forward from all four corners of the chamber and surrounded him. He stood firm, the lines of his face shining in the light; his eyes, unblinking, taking in everything from the surroundings; his jaw set hard lined to resemble a smirk. As his captors reached him, he allowed them to cuff him, and with a mild smile, he began walking, as cool, and cold, as the South Pole. Marching to the awaiting van, he raised a hand to the throng, which broke away with shrieks and swears, and some of them shivered, and a chill went down their spine. The car drove away, as the people walked off, still discussing the cruelty and barbarity of the sentenced man.

The sharp steps reverberated through the corridor, and the light of the torch pierced a beam through the darkness. Bars clanged, and within moments, the shadows returned to haunt the long room, but the silence did not.

“The night is dark, and full of terrors; we do mistakes, but we make errors,” he murmured to himself, again and again, pronouncing every syllable with increasing energy.

Shouts rose from the neighboring cells, overflowing with anger and abuses, as he let the quiet refurbish the place. There was no way out from here; there was nowhere to go, no place to hide; there was no quiet, no peace; only disturbances, of life, of nature. He was stuck.