A Man of his words.

I fail to come up with any estimate, 

Of the words i've spoken since I learnt to do so,

Weird it might seem, a worthless thought, 

That's height of joblesness, I know! 

But during these jobless moments of my day, 

When everything else fades away,  

They refuse to leave me alone, 

Words- written and unwritten, spoken and unspoken..

I wonder how peaceful would this world have been,

Had there been no words communicated ;

I feel this urge to disown  all of them, 

Words that destroy peace, make things complicated.

Lost in thoughts of a world without any words, 

Am broguht back to this real world- " Bhaiya Chai".

See! Words don't even let you think about peace, 

Let alone, experiencing it , now you know why!

My attention is drawn towards a flock of birds returning home, 

They race away screeching at the top of their voice,

I wish I could reach for their necks, and choke them to death, 

Something that they deserve for making all that noise.

But now they've passed, and it's again silent around,

A silence that symbolises peace, the peace we chase.

But this no longer seems pleasant, I order another tea,

I want some words around, 'Addiction' my logic says.

I hit upon a realization, something I always knew, 

The only ones who sleep in peace are the dead, 

Peace is Death, as is silence, ours is the chase,

I breathe deep, Feel alive, with words pouring into my head. 

I guide them to the deepest chamber of my heart, 

I'll never lose them now, They'll be safe here, 

I promise them , You'll be forever mine, 

I'll stand by you, no matter who u go to, Remember I care.

I imagine again a world devoid of words, and smile, 

Looking back at my imagination of a graveyard like place.

The truth is life would not be life, without words,

Let them flow in through all corners, pumping up the chase. 

The glass is now empty, A reason to get up and move, 

Pen down some words waiting to be shared . 

I move on and type them down , Just to let them know, 

No matter what they do, I still cared. 

Cared because they give me evenings like the one today, 

Cared because, when all left, they were still here.

Cared because they add new dimensions to my existence, 

Cared beacuse they know it all- every little wish, every disturbing fear. 

What an experience this has been, 

An evening down the street.

Lessons learnt and laws forgotten, 

Words pervading a mind discreet.

I was busy killing time, having tea, 

and watching home bound birds. 

When in the blink of an eye I realised, 

I have been a MAN of my WORDS!

Ending it with a smile!

Don't raise that hand, keep it wrapped in your pocket,

A wave of a hand, doesn't make anything easier.

So keep that goodbye for someone who takes them, 

Leave as you wish, But don't wave that hand here. 

Perhaps the beginning was never meant to be, 

And so let it be, The end is now here.. 

That which ends, never really existed, 

An end is all that it deserved, why care?

Forget the romanticism this world likes to live in, 

Where Endings are always happy, And so are you..

Rewind your life , and see for yourself, 

If these stories and poems are actually true? 

Happy endings are disguised beginnings, 

Ends that you enforce to make a new start;

Each story that ends or begins, has two characters,  

One playing his game, The other meagrely his part.

We've lived in this illusion for a while now, 

But the myth is now shattered, It's time is done.

You don't have to pretend , That you cared, 

Nor make it bearable , by saying it was fun;

This is a failed world, Each broken piece testifies, 

An end is an end, There never was a happy one.

Your Hands in Mine.

"What would it be like, if one fine morning you wake up,
To live a dream that you used to see while asleep?
We have always talked about reality being so mean,
So harsh yet so awaited, So obvious yet so deep!
But Dreams shall be meagre desires unfulfilled,
Until they get real, and you know how does it actually feel!
Close you eyes, and dream about that fine morning,
When a dream is broken, Just to let you experience it in real! "

~ ~ Aslam Baba

Faithfully yours.

 

A million things I want to say,

But When I do not find a way ,

I pen down it all on a blank piece of paper,

And it happens to take the form of a letter;

I don’t know whom to send it to,

I feel giddy, Having no clue what to do..

I read it aloud to myself then,

Fold it back, and place it under the pen;

I look at the blank envelope on the bed,

Its ugly, It was supposed to be addressed!

i reach for the letter and open it again,

We don't give up, right? We are men;

I Write down something about the pain ,

Of the envelope not bearing a name;

I smile to myself when I realise,

The envelope still lies blank,  in front of my eyes;

But I decide to finish what I started,

It deserves an end, an effort that was whole-hearted.

I don't write anything more,

Am blank as the envelope, to the core;

But something inside heavily pours,

As I sign it off - Faithfully Yours!

Sabse peeche hum khadey !

[ DISCLAIMER- This article is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any person- living or dead.. :) ]

Life's been a race for us all, from the moment we opened our eyes.
And we've been racing, aimlessly, leaving behind all hues and cries..
Few amongst us are born racers, I was lucky I was one..
But long before I could finish the race, My sprint was done..
I had been racing really fast, to the joy of some, envy of the rest..
Until one day, I felt, I had done it all, I was the best!
What followed was my decision to retire from the field,
Yes, I had thought well over it, the decision was sealed..

What an experience it was, Life sans the race part,
Peaceful, jovial, and serene, if not street smart..
For I dumped the racers, and settled down with people who seemed more humane,
I termed them as friends, this whole friendship thing was driving me insane,
For I had spent all my life chasing one goal after another,
Crushing anyone who came in my way, without thinking any further..

But now, The chasing boy , had grown into a retired man,
And the desire to excel , gave way to a broader game plan..
I set out to meet people, watch them emote, hear them speak,
To see if Life was all about the race, or something out of the league?
That was where life actually started for me, As I kept growing wiser,
And there was no question left, for which I didn't have an answer. .
The only truth worth mentioning that I uncovered was that,
Life is only a race, and all humans meagre racers, nothing beyond that..

I made up my mind to resume the race from where I had left it,
Heh.. But life gives no second chance to mice, and men who quit..
Alas.. I had no other choice but to sink into my arm-chair..
Enjoy whatever was left for me , in life, Even if i didn't find it fair..
I termed this part of my life, as joblessness.. And learned to live with it..
Showed the middle finger to the Creator, who thought I was finished, I had quit..
I have had my own fair share of reasons, to enjoy this life the way I wanted to,
They came scattered in phases, and One of them , my friend, was you!

Someday, If you happen to take a break from the race you've been running,
and you need to share your success-tales with, some known harmless being..
You might not find him around, Just cut through the crowd..
An old Silk Route song shall guide you through, playing out loud..
Persuading you to chuck out the crowd, and leave aside the race for a day ,
If you find yourself lost, You'll find your way, when you hear a voice say,
" Duniya ki iss bheed mein , Sabse peeche hum khadey"..

It's dying !

The winds have gone crazy..
The clouds are making up for the delay,
The town's plunged into darkness..
It's all dead and gloomy, to my dismay..

Rendered absolutely jobless by the climate,
I get down to the one thing I am anyday good at,
Refuelling my system with its daily doses ,
Examining the surrounding void, trying to adapt;

I sit here, cluelessly emptying cups of tea ,
and thrashing burnt butts onto the ground;
my gaze gets stuck at a lesser being,
silently staring at me, against the wind's whirling sound,

It’s melting down , even as others are shivering,
Heavy drops roll down it’s cheeks, They look like tears..
It’s almost half dead, and will survive only the next few minutes,
I could see its pale yellow face, Battered by burns and wrinkled by fears..

The tears it sheds, freeze midway on it’s body,
It burns a little more to sublime them away,
It’s fighting tirelessly to destroy all darkness and pain,
I appreciate your effort, I must say..

But its end is approaching near,
The flame that symbolized life is now flickering low,
As if begging me to cover it up from the winds,
And let it have a peaceful death, one that is painless and slow..

Am sitting still, as if under a spell,
I can’t move my hands, and help it out..
But I won’t let it die an untimely death,
But what can I do, I can’t even shout..

Once the flame goes out, it shall be replaced,
By another candle, and there shall again be light;
This is the logic behind this world,
But how would I forget this sight ?

If there was ever a commitment I made,
This was it mate, trust me, am not lying;
Someone help it out,
This flame is dying!
I can work wonders at times,
But I don’t know why am I not even trying,
Or maybe, I just got my common sense back,
It says ‘everything’s made to be broken’, very true,
But the conscience inside still screams-
To hell with crying angels and men flying,
Do something about it Lord, This flame is dying!!

Chasing Peace..

The creator's genius sometimes leaves me amazed,

A world working just fine, 

Humans struggling for existence, just like the lesser forms,

Life, arguably, is a seasoned Vintage wine..

After an entire day's struggle,

When I make myself comfortable in the balcony,

A can of beer in one hand, a joint in the other,

Following futile thinking, comes forth an irony..

The dope slowly takes control of my senses,

Forcing me into a state of temporary bliss...

Concealing ,the wannabe perfectionist in me, deep inside,

Exposing the imperfect man that hides underneath..

Into this trance, when I slowly dissolve,

With Barrett and his gang playing in the background..

You come to me  dressed all white,

Spreading ripples of eternity all around..

The struggling world seems a hallucination.

everything seems so quiet , serene and perfect..

This is where i would forever be..

This is life, you bet!

I love the way you smile innocently at me, 

and then lose yourself in my arms..

And I love the way it feels, 

when I run my fingers through your hair..

The world just ceases to exist ..

All the time I hold you near..

The night seems like eternity with you in my arms..

Looking into your eyes, Am freed of all pain..

Time ticks by without getting noticed,

The cell keeps ringing intermittently in vain..

But then, I suddenly find you melting away..

Subliming into the thin air that smells of grass..

Eternity fading away, the struggle sinking in..

Flloyd sounding like cacophonic crass..

I hit reality.. My cannabinoids and neurons have started reviving,

Forcing me to quit this utopia whose end was predictably near..

And get back to the struggle..

To get up and roll some joints and look for some more beer..

This is life, The place where you sweat it out..

Struggling all your way to the day of judgement..

But Can't we steal a moment or two , and  make it happen, 

The way it once was, I've grown tired of this prolonged predicament..

Why is the struggle still on, I've no clue..

Probably it's fate..

But Do bring me peace someday, For even today,

The last peg always goes in your name! Cheers mate!