boys can cry

a little love goes a long way,

a little love that is to stay.

a helping hand,

a united stand,

as support and cornerstone,

so he wouldn't need to stand alone.

he's vulnerable and he's mute,

but his deafness isn't as acute.

he hears, and he listens,

everything he encounters is friction.

he can't separate the satisfactory and the substandard,

he always lets the milk condense to curd.

he wants to cry, but can't shed a tear;

he forgets all the praise, and remembers every jeer.

he wants to soar, but he's afraid of a crash land;

slipping through his fingers is wasted time in sand.

if she just reaches and and keeps in his her fingers entwined,

if she makes him realize that he has his own mind;

that day he'll understand that she's always by his side,

that she'll stand behind him, but still be his guide.

and in the end, when all will be said and done,

he will appreciate that behind every successful man is a woman.

a reminiscence

Manali; a mystical romantic marvel

M

anali is like a high-school romance. You discover it, go for it, embrace it for a while and then leave it. Mostly, your heart says no. But your obligations force you to part with the warmth of the persons arms. The memory however stays forever in your heart-and it’s always a fond one. Manali is a magical city. One visit is enough to fill your heart with never ending memories for a lifetime. The people there have those ‘rosy cheeks’ which we mostly read about in Aesop’s fables; there are dogs with unbeknown breed roaming around {if they see you trekking, they will follow you till the end}. The drains are so clean that tourists mistake them for waterfalls, the life so untouched, so new, that you cant help but sneeze{the air is so fresh!}

The views are breath-taking, the lanes never-ending and the opportunities to explore, unlimited. In the end, it all boils down to one thing: Manali blows you away, completely. The high mountains, the green valleys, the wildlife, the culture and the heavenly cold compared to the sweltering heat down south! The place is practically utopia!! You can come armed with basic necessities and trek along; you can stay in a lavish hotel and follow a tour map; you can rent a homestay and shop on the streets while enjoying the local puchka! The only thing you need in fact, is just a long, long, lazy summer to spend in this beautiful city and enjoy it while it lasts.

Manali is number one in hospitality. The people are kind, warm and welcoming. They entertain with their local cultural songs and dance and coax you to try on their pretty costumes. The overwhelming amount of salespersons in the street, hoping you’ll come and buy their wares will fantasize you no end. Manali has its own mystical, rural charm to it and as we try to preserve it, tourists come to discover why their friends are raving about this particular city. There are many cities in this world, cities with more touristy places, cities with more archaeological wonder, cities with more controlled weather, but Manali is its own world-the city is a mystical romantic marvel.

              A memory is a memory for life;

              But a good one remains for long after…

tremors

Those who have not witnessed

 Mother Nature’s fury;

Don’t know what the judge decides;

 Dependent on a jury.

That shock; that silent moment;

A shaking is proclaimed,

A rumble from earth’s underbelly;

 For a time, mankind is lamed.

Risings fall, paths are cracked;

Lives are torn apart by the reaper;

As existence shreds; harrow spreads,

holes are severed deeper.

But, it was you who hurt and scarred mother;

You who stole from her; she alone mourned.

Heralded it was to begin with and so you must know,

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

new beginnings and new friends.

Blend in

It's truly wonderful, how we meet,
one cup of coffee at a time;
taking in an aroma, so complete.
Talking a little whimsy and beat,
with hardly any reason or rhyme.

In the corner of our little cafe,
I wonder; can life be so bittersweet?
I think of new secrets to give away,
as you order a latte,
and indulge in its heat.

The subtle hunger for that brown dust,
the only gold that doesn't glow.
In its warmth, I think, should I trust,
in a flavor so robust,
as I sip my espresso.

As strangers, sipping milk and cream;
Our drinks so strong;
a taste never wrong.
Simply flavors of a bean,
That mean so much, they keep us moving along.

An Ode to Change

A single dove rises in the mist;

Others, they don’t follow.

Disappointed and sad, she lets out a cry;

Others, they look on, composed and wry.

The dove, she tried once to get what we need:

The joyful, serene and now myth of peace.

But she never rose again, with a momentum as such.

To give life a new lease; something, if not much.

We weep, as hate bursts out aplomb;

We explode with anger, come any bomb.

But unlike us, the dove, she wanted change.

Not wanting to sit around, waiting for others who cringe.

It takes passion and will and revolution;

To bring anything, even peace, we must pay tuition.

In installments of time, hope and grit.

Not handsome and rich, but intelligence and wit.

Unlike the dove, who was brought down by herd,

Don’t be a puppet, hear your own word.

Rise for peace, and rise to the limit!

Don’t look left or right, till you reach the summit!

Harness the dove’s want, and saddle her movement;

Whip her loss of courage, and gallop; don’t relent!

For, the harder you try, and the more you push;

The more the hatred, evil and impurity you crush.

In the end, there will be blood, sweat and tears;

But just as well, will die your fears.

And all your contribution will be worth the while;

Envelope the Earth in peace; Each And Every Mile.

20^th September, 2011.