The Mirror

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Lights are out
The diary is lost
But I pick up the canvas
And a few crumbled pages

I hear the pen yearning to write
I see the colors painting the white
I spread my arms,
Smell the rain
Pierce my bones!
Its craving to hold on
to the window pane

I look up to the sky
It drops me the words I desire.
And in this cold

it ignited the fire

Memories are ready
Nostalgia is chasing
Euphoria is rushing
Writer cuddles the metaphors
The painter blushes

And the shackled voice
Frees itself…

in the name of silence
in the sense of poetry
in the form of colors
I paint sensation,

The nail biting news

And all of our lives…
in red and blues
Couplets of promises
knocking my door 

demanding their dues.

All the clamour

Amidst the glamour
Shriek and shimmer
for you my enamour.

Obliterating the darkness 
rises a glimmer
Poetry and shades

Intertwined to make a MIRROR.

Every night
in the splendid moonlight
You read in that mirror
The Universe speaks
of those shades again,
It sings of you
counting the stars…
It listens to your feet
dancing magic in the rain!

The writer, The painter
Deep down you know him.
You open those yellow crumbled pages
You caress the shades
with tender touch…

But when will you understand…
The crumbled page speaks of you!
The shades are all the colors of you.

Do you ever recall us ?
Do you ever realize
All this time
in the mirror

It was You
It has always…
been you…

 

Just be yourself…

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Today…
No covers!
Just be yourself.
Let me know
Beyond the layers…

Let the humanity
Perform magics! 
That feel restless
Beneath your skin.

Throw the masks
Let honesty heal… 
All the painful truths
and lies stealing eyes

Today…
No covers!

Just be yourself…

Lie down your sadness
In the grounds of love.
Let today the demons
Bathe in the heavens

I’m craving to listen…
Everything in these moments
If you are ready…
I lend my consciousness.

All your stumbles
All your surprises
All the life
And what dies in you!!

Tell me…
And I’ll let you peep
In all what I am

Today…
No covers!
Just be yourself
And I’ll be Myself!

Today my love,
We’ll not be the world…
We’ll be complete…

in ourselves…

Meeting a slum! – The day of inspiration.

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Its not a matter of decade! years… months… or a day.
It just take minutes for once, a light twist of life, a point mutation in you! and bamn!
Change of a lifetime!! 

It has always been a habit of mine, to interview people. I talk to people, I am sad in their sorrows, I smile in their happiness. And all that i gather doing this thing part time job, I write to the love of my pen… the paper 🙂

I would love to give this story some words. Today I am going to tell you a story, which will remain in me till I live. This is inspiration friends! When an ant want to climb the wall again after trying and falling, when a tree is adamant to live against the storms…

Let’s get started!

I love to play Almost all the sports. But if you ask me in particular, I would say – Lawn tennis and cricket!
So, some days ago, i reached to a stadium to play. While I bowled my over, I saw a spectacular fielder… who didn’t let the ball go. I mean, his hands were web!

Then, the slum, bowled a great over. Watching his ability to terrify batsman with bouncers and unexpected pace variation, I soon went to some players I knew, and i asked, fingering to that person…”who is he”

The players told that he is Mangal, a slum who lives nearby. I went to him to pass him heaps of compliment, to bestow us a win that was once hopeless!

  1. Physically, (even in the match I noticed, and now)
    He didn’t seem to be even someone you would qualify into middle class people by economy. He was wearing shorts, that had the threads lingering out and a shirt that was torn.
  2. When i talked to him, I came to know that his father is jobless! and all he did was drinking… from the money, his mother earns. She was a servant. All in all, The home was not in a homeostasis… 
  3. He was quite emotional! While he told his life story, I was also submerged. He had a bottle in his hand, and as he came on the topic – how his mother cries while cooking food… A water drop fell on the bottle. I pulled my head up and saw him in tears. I gripped his shoulder and told him not to cry.
  4. But soon I saw, that he just wanted to get this pain out. He wiped his tears, And he came to his plans.
    He told that he want to become a bank manager. He said that he will never drink or smoke like his fellow friends do. He simply said that he want to see his mother happy. I smiled and tapped his shoulder, and i said with proud in mouth twisting my tongue ” May you”.
  5. He was a friend! As the sun came down, he stopped and as I was just about to leave. He asked for my name, I smiled again, and said “Sankalp”. I again got back and hugged him. We became friends that single day.

I think we have every comfort, to live, to write, to enjoy and have a life! And there! I see a slum who don’t have wings but he want to fly! 
He wants to fight, like that tree against the wall…He wants to climb again to the wall like that ant!
I saw his pain, his life, and he want his status to rise. Such richness at hear! He wants to see his mother happy. These people are hard to find. I am hungry! for such experiences… We all want to be struck hard to get back on path! And all that, I found in the eyes of a slum!
This is inspiration, He spoke what I was craving for. He made me learn, that We don’t have to die poor even if we are born!

May he achieve whatever he wants in life. He was a man of values… A man who deserve to be honored… 🙂