Dreams


The dawn that haunts the dreary day

I wake up with the devil

Stark reality stares the eye

Oh! Yet the light spares respite

I go behind the taken path

To meet it yet again

I utter aught for the present steals

The moments that were gay

I loved the devil for serene it lay

On a bed I thought of roses

Its dry now the crimson stain

The stench it lingers on

Years it’s there and none to burn

The ghosts of days gone by

I loved the devil that dwells no more

I wake up another day

 

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The Irony of India


We are afraid of power, we prefer being told what to do, we take pride in our history and do not realise when we are played with. We are Indians. In today’s era, the youth stands against anything that dares to mar progress. We are in some way the ‘ignited minds’ that was hoped of us; we consume so much and are constantly looking for more. So a slight unrest always burns, sans regrets, sans prejudices and sans logic.

The recent Delhi rape incident brought to light the gory extent of madness, and also the power of a surge. The whole nation protested, particularly the capital. But was the protest really that prudent? Long after the government conceded that they’d speed up the trail and get a decision within a month, the protests continued. No one knew what they demanded exactly anymore. Fuelled by the opposition politics, there were demands for castration like in many Arab countries; the same countries where women are not ALLOWED by the law to move out after evening. In countries like the UAE, Iran, Afghanistan etc. where there is immediate death penalty, is just a stricter punishment that is consistent with any crime. It is not out of respect for women, they are the same people who come to India and take sixteen year olds to their Sheikhs as one of his ‘wives’.

People believe that the fear of penalty shall be enough to curb such gruesome cases. Well, does anyone ponder the reverse theory? The rape law in India is so female centric, that your girlfriend of eighteen year old can charge you for rape or the very hot girl you met at the bar needs just an alcohol test and a physical, to blackmail you for lifetime.

Another interesting aspect that surfaced was the situational sensitivity of the country. Suddenly people found Honey Singh to be vulgar. Where was this sensitivity, when the song C**** was composed and loved by the same Delhi youth. Even the famous band Zeest, had their song called Balatkari, which glorified rape. Nevertheless it was again on everyone’s tongue. We protest when others do, it makes us feel important, makes us believe that we are strong.

The main issue however is almost never addressed. We don’t see what’s right in front of us. It’s not the government or the chauvinistic men; it’s us, always us that are the problem. We have had a society that has always been male dominated. We have always seen women to be the house wife while men do the more ‘important’ task of getting the Lakshmi.

Until the psyche changes, we can’t move forward. This theory sounds futile unless we have concrete solution. We give the socially challenged people a more than fair chance at everything, why not women? Let them be at par with men at everything; be it sports, research, art or even politics. The women reservation is a step forward. One would claim that no one’s interested in watching women play; well make people watch. If you can give a below par student a right to sit in the best college in the country, you can very easily reserve a place for women sports on any TV channel. We don’t need to protect them, we need to liberate women. Why is it acceptable for a woman to marry at eighteen but for men at twenty one? Women should have an equal right to excel. They mature faster, think clearer and yet are discriminated against.  We make unfair rules for the minority, women on the other hand are supposedly equal, let’s keep it that way.

Nothing changes overnight; when you need a change, amends have to be made at the base, and now is the high time for the same.

Credits for info: ASW and his Chuddy Buddy

Love


I lay him down to sleep,

The screams, the cry, the desperation of eye,

They all fade away in smoke.

She watched as he gave away,

For a lesser pain, the heaven await.

She smiled, as if to infer my deed.

Judging nay, an understanding sought.

Drop by drop as Lucifer grew,

Her lips so numb, her eyes, the dew.

And yet she smiled,

As she drew nigher,

To search the kiss of innocence.

She averred right a sweller truth

As he watched in avarice the wisdom elude

Sins precede our human race

‘For in lord we trust

And sins he made

Beyond the ken of mortal say

Is the hell we make but hell it is

Thou hast the love for hate there is.’

Oh! She drew so close

Her shimmering self.

Every breath, a distant dream.

The wear of day and her mellow whisper

The crimson lips kiss the slumber.

Aah! I smile, ages been.

She seemed like someone I could love

 

Smoke


Aweary day, night my irony

The room so long felt mist.

Oh my darling pen you bleed my cry,

Sins precede thy save.

The light at end it’s getting closer

Every breath but nothing said.

The breeze, the lips, the face so trance

It’s here, to say itself again

‘Thither art nay sins’; it lay so still

Like a painted picture of a crimson mist.

Submission nay, the shady high,

A rise he never await

The writer wields the thoughts that reek

Oblivious to rage that curse the heavens.

 

 

Sinner


Forgive me lord for I have sinned
The walls still mock the horror
The crimson lay
Dried the voices swoon
Heylel says, ‘thither art nay sins
Sans love thy cry, san tears incendie
Is truth beheld or is voice futile
Either be I blood

Father forgive me; I have sinned
The verses make them worse
The savage knife
Scarlet stained
Yet them be so mellow
So calm, the child I murder
I sleep the fables, drowned with tears
The smoke it soothes my heed
He did say right ‘thither art nay sins’
All that’s left incendie.