To the Newborn in Kashmir Valley

Look how far you have made
with tiny ickle hands and feet
to this mammoth, littler world.
You'll grow up around the most exquisite place
only to wish that you had never left womb,
the safest place you know.
There will be days without light
and nights that will refuse to sleep for days,
the lesson love thy neighbor
will keep you confused, credits to vicinal countries
for choosing war to attain peace.
You'll see how a sanity is drawn upon the state
by chums growing apples and saffron
and weaving cloth.
Among all the terror and uncalled wars,
I wish you to know
there'll sometimes be rainbows and skies full of stars.
When the questions in your teenage
draw your interest toward politics and history
I hope you choose to learn art, physics or philosophy
instead, for delusions are but easier to infer.
I wish for you
multiple existential crisis, so you
self choose the meaning of life
and tragedies that come with it.
While we'll teach you to love, learn and live
in all ways possible,
I apologize
for life being unfair, unfortunate and uncertain
slightly more around you.

36 Seconds at 36 Lights

Sky, brightened
of the pitiless sun
scorching, so distressing.
I stop at the 36's red light
and I see
Little Jhonny tied up
in the school dress and hefty bag
on the future shoulders of nation,
tender yet, looks for his mom.
While the dark man with
wrinkles crossing the face
and eyes tired enough
to narrate the agonies of his life,
arrests the motion of his rickshaw.
Jhonny when already taken away by his mom.
The blue dressed cop
stands at the round top
controls the city traffic
trying to make it little pacific,
yet fails to catch
the chauffeur driven Range Rover
that jumps the light at an eye blink
disturbing the coal
burned by the lady selling corn
who sits right there
with hopes so fair
handles a baby in her lap
keeping her little business at a gap.
It hits me so bad, that
It's all a race,
of money, black
and white.
Not among each other,
but with oneself.
It's about little johnny's school dreams
of becoming a big man someday.
The rickshawman's impulse
to get someone to give ride to.
The traffic cop getting paid,
for taking stress of city's traffic.
The rich Rover man still craving,
less for life but for money
stuck somewhere he's heading to.
The corn lady's hopes
for better economic tomorrow.
and it's about me too,
getting back from some business tutions
where we learn to earn big someday.
Before that deep needed thought,
The light goes green,
the race continues.

The tiny boats of time
along with slow autumn
will trail around with me
fleeing to fetch
an early summer.
You know how I feel
about unkind winters.
I will wait for you,
on the road to my askew ways.
In the affair of me
loving you to not knowing love
at all,
Promise me that you'll know
how I am out, roaming around
the trees and rocks and water
brimming myself with love I lack
to give it to you.
But I will never not need you
to guide me back, my love.
So just know,
thy fingerprints etched on my feet
shall usher you
to where I leave my incisions
for them to lead you
to me.
You see the downpours
on the way to where you look for me,
tell them that I have found
myself shores.
The sand on the beach will feel wet
with the tears that might be mine.
That's where I'll see you,
Because you will not find
any place further me.
But promise me,
you will look for me, twice
where I had left you.
Tell me,
Will you find me?
find me, where I wait for you.

Mountains over oceans.

For heights don't scare me, 

it's the depth I'm worried about.

It's not the alliteration, metaphor or even rhyme. It's the honesty, divinity and beauty that trounces to be a poem.

After me

Do not keep my things 
close or closed
in your safe
for I've never wanted to be kept.
Give away
to the orphan kids down the road,
the ambience of my purple room
all colors of my walls,
my diaries, as if someone'll write
on the pages of me,
my chronicles, undone though
for I'd still want to be partially read,
that little girl with no power of speech
will probably sew up my stories 
with never-told hers.
and the untouched fictions on my shelf
lying since forever,
maybe someone would read 
those characters for me, to me.
Do not scruple while thee
accord my favorites,
the blue shirt,
the peach bag, so many bags, all the bags,
my un-tuned guitar, for
I'll play through some fine fingers.

Do not possess me

inside the walls of memories.

and give away 

my dreams and hopes,

my stories and jokes,

my zeal and oddness,

my grin and happiness.

Do not hang me 
on one of the walls
when I'll still be everywhere,
in all the places I have ever been
in embraces of so many arms
in the always-proud-of-me eyes 
in each tick of every clock
and in the shrill echoes 
of my silence.
Do not keep me in your heart
for I'd still want to live out.

Do not bury me in a casket

and mourn when I die,

just burn me up.
Take my ashes 
and eat some, 
spread some,
smoke some.

In times too bitter
or too smooth,
From people and cities,
We'll run bare feet
to fetch the clouds
and drown the waters,
to find peace in plights
and chaos in calm,
You surrender
your hand to mine
and I'll hide
my heart in your soul.
You tell me
what galaxy does
to keep the sun there,
and I'll show you

how ocean holds the sky.
You halt time for me
and I'll keep an eye on age.
We'll dematerialize
in the intangibility
of heavenly landscapes
and in the beauty
of vast emptiness.

In the spell of
unraveling the less traveled roads

obsessing over hills and oceans,
breathing the uncivilized air,
or maybe, just

collecting shells on the shores,
We'll find life,

where no one lives. 

In the shadows of thick leaves

under the split rays,

amongst the free wind

and white clouds,

I'll be breathing the freshness 

of lilies and lavenders.

You'll never not know

where to seek for me,

for I'll be on the shore

beside an ocean,

conquering

my love and fear of waters.

or,

On a random picturesque,

I, for most be smiling

at the beauty of hills

and laughing

at the wilderness of civilization,

You'll never not feel 

me, in the lonely hours

on dark winter nights

for I'll be in an empty corner,

unveiling the meaning of 

love, life and peace.

You shall never lose me,

since always, I'll be 

free as wind in the forests

handy as shells on the shores

nigh as clouds on the ridges

and deep as darkness of dusk

If you lose me still,

look for me in the poetry

and you shall always find me.

Happiness is at its happiest when found within.

The right decision is not a good decision, if you end up sad.

The most suffocating relationship doesn't involve another person, for there's always an exit. 

It's the one you have with yourself, where a break could do, but you just can't.

There is a very fine line between inspiration and plagiarism. As a writer, my biggest sin would be crossing that line.

The enlightening nights

Maybe, if it was 18th again
or the inches of my body
be in right lengths and widths,
I don't want to grow
as old and as untimely
as I have been, or if
I was just capable of writing
all that never gets written,
why can't this stupid clock stop ticking!
An endless record of things gone wrong
surrounds me, as I keep tossing
in my unmade bed.
I wish I were in different country
since everything's wrong with mine,
in fact in a parallel universe,
is there any?
Maybe I'm here, in this one
to mend it, to give it more
than I can take.
I'm on to it tomorrow.
The things that can't be rightened,
followed by a zillion purposes
of life, for life.
Only if I survive the fan above me
in case it decides to plunge,
Would she cry if I die?
I told her,"We aren't friends anymore."
But nights were meant to sleep
this ain't anything like that,
also, mom promised, night sleep
could get my skin glowing
maybe that's something,
one thing that can be rightened.
And I'm back to sqaure one now.
This could go on and on
the umbras and penumbras
in the light of the night.
How much I wish though
it to go impossibly long
for night's still been kinder to me
like a noiseless friend
in the emptiness of hours
a hope
in the enormity of chaos,
flickering in the rays of darkness
black and deep,
like a brighter morning.

Astray

A few lot of eyes
speak for the people
who have lost you
in the process of finding you.
The only thing that can find you
on this dark winter night, is
the unmentionable,
inexplicable
an obscure feeling that
hasn't yet made it to any diction
but has made an immutable dwelling
inside you instead.
How it blankets you
with the immensity
of chills that can not be told
for no words would cooperate ,
so all you have is jumbled words
and no one to understand,
but you see
there's whole another world
they avow life on foreign planets,
would it be free
of love and war

and of everything on this one.
can't know, maybe
you'll never know, though
you've enclaved yourself,
whereabouts of which are alien

to the defined geographies and
to all who are out to love you
but you have come a little too far,
too far to be found.

That's what being has been

Only when you search
till you find self
caged,
in two hundred something
of fragility and mortality.
Some light years away
must have you done something
horribly beautiful
to be here,
here in existence.
For nothing conceals
the glum eyes on happy face,
a shallow heart,
and empty soul.
For you couldn't be kept
from distortion
of bruised knees
cracked heels,
pimpled cheeks
cramped feels,
kindly so
not a thing irreparable,
that's what living has been
a mortal bod
of impairment and beaut
an expeditious age
of being to not being
a vicious lifetime
of warmth and hurt,
an endless trail
of hoping and healing.

I don't care about money or fame. I just want to be immortal. 

An independent, uninspired, self opinionated ability to think and make decisions is the most magnificent trait a human can possess.

But, they said that Love was meant to heal. 

Maybe Love was meant to heal.

You can not change people.

Let them be or Let them go.

If you are always expecting in return for the good you do to others, you aren't really doing any good at all.