For Us, the Frivolous ones

Had always believed in them 

the small talks, the insincere smiles

sometimes a lot, a dime

always there

in the good times

Can't deny being one 

off, sincerely and simply

the value it brings

the formality, the distant connectedness

and the reminder that I see you, remember you, and accept you

And for the moments of rejections 

the fruits turn sour

off your peace for hours

the acrid tones, the rolling glances, the profiling

the small talks turn sharp like an ivy 

we, the small talkers, come in colors

simply there, social climbers, or survivors

the frivolous fruit, in small bites, holds the beauty

but too much is the poison self-made

Can't deny I believe in them

the small talks, the insincere smiles

sometimes a lot, a dime

but immunize and stay on guard 

of your peace 

even in the good times

Raising a Child

Raising a child is a roller-coaster ride, with all dimensions of your quotients challenged, crushed, and re-wired, if you are lucky.

Raising a child is an economically thankless and drenching task, yet one of the most gratifying and beautiful adventures of a parent's life.

Raising a child raises a society—and the aggregation is outright proportional and powerful—creating a foundation for strong or weak societies and economies alike!

Raising a child is no man's business!

Raising a child, if it is all on those few souls—with love in their hearts, social support systems in tow, laws of the land alleviating the challenges, and economies discounting their "personal" engagements...

Raising a child, if it is all on those two, one, or no one's head—with love turning into challenged, crushed, and resentfully re-wired minds, fading individualistic social support systems, and laws of the land failed by the attitudes and executions of individuals, societies, and economies!

Raising a child is a roller-coaster ride, with all dimensions of your quotients challenged, crushed, and re-wired, if you are lucky.

For I am and I ought not be

 I have lost too much

to find this light...

basked in non-privilege

to get this skin-deep.

Yet this resentment

for all I have not been

weighs me down.

I lost my self

in years of drowning;

as I wander, weak and adrift,

watching the imagined lives of higher selves.

I reach for lighthouses

I do not own,

losing more than I rescue—

the weight sinking me further,

the burden growing.

I wish to be lighter

with my own weight.

As I lie shattered at rock bottom,

light rayleighs through my fog.

The haze is a blessing;

it is time to gather my pieces

and let the not-me drift away.

And when I must judge,

decide, or act—

let me be strong and wise enough

to stay alight.

To respect what is truly mine,

letting nature flow through what is not,

in harmony with my cosmos—

for who I am, and I ought-not-be.

Unconditional

It's bound to lose

But would stay forever with you

It's bound to melt away

Like a snowflake in the storm

Like an aster in the air

But forever, would become part of you

It's bound to change with the times

Like a shifting dune

like a sun-kissed maple leaf

and forever, would mesmerize you in all its forms

It's bound to be itself

Even though it knows its fate

For unconditional love

Knows what feels right

दहेज़

किसी बाप ने बोझ समेट 

सिर से आज उतारा 

तो किसीने अपनी लक्ष्मी बाई की ढाल बन 

सुबह ही आने वालों को जाने का रास्ता दिखा डाला 

किसी ने अपना हक़ मांग 

बराबर कन्धा दिया 

तो किसी अबला ने न माँगा न दिया 

बस मांगने वालों की आग में खुद से ख़ुदी को खो डाला 

किस्से हज़ारों नम इन आँखों में 

कुछ नीति से भरे तो कुछ युक्तियुक्त 

कुछ संकुचे कुछ उन्मुक्त 

कुछ जीते ... कुछ जीये 

कहानी हम  सब ने अपनी खुद लिखी 

किसीने कलम खुद पकड़ी 

तो किसीने सब को थमाई 

और यूँ ताना बाना बुन 

समाज की चादर बनायी 

और छेद तो तब बने इस चादर में 

जब एक ताने ने बाने का सिर झुकाया 

न सम्मान दिया न स्वीकारा 

वो हाथ मेरा भी था जितना तेरा 

समाज की ये लड़ाई 

कब निति या नियम जीत पाए हैं 

एक दुसरे को नकार 

कब एक या  करोड़ क्रांति ला पाए हैं 

my favorite orchard

even it had spoilage

I would pick the best

and leave the rest

to the test of times

to feed back 

the roots of my favorite orchard

may sit in its shade

of a hundred years old oracle

or shun its shadows

if they grow on you

blocking the light and life

growing out of my favorite orchard

all is well

as you honor its goodness

leave the weathered be

connect with the folds of time anew

and grow into something more

than my favorite orchard

Did we forget to raise the politicians

And left them to the chances

Of adversary, of unmet grievances

Or the giants are canopying

The struggling fresh blades of ideas

Or is it the survival of the old

Defying ageing at what may cost

Did we forget to raise politicians

For that’s no body’s dreams

Not a parent’s or a child’s

Of a teen’s or an influencer’s

Is it dirtier than the dirtiest job we have heard

Or a pit only for the fallen

And now we are lead by myopias

Of boundaries, of growth, of happiness

Voting led by bets and lotteries

And freebies and poachers

Which side has turned into what

For all the way it’s back to animal farm