The Dream Mode

In the darkness just thinking of you acts as a source of light.
In this struggle of everyday life gives me strength to fight.

I look up at the sky and think of what could I do?
Oh what could I do? To make this bond as strong as new?

Everything around us has changed, and perhaps we have as well,
But purity and strength still in this bond dwell.

Walking on this silent midnight street,
I feel goosebumps, from my head to feet.

I hear you singing that song to me,
Or am I imagining this scene?

No it can't be. It's you. I know. Not a hallucination,
But I still need to muster courage and need inspiration,
To turn around to see if it is you for true,
But these days, confidence in me is few.

I instead choose to keep walking along this road,
Just waiting for a hint from you, to switch back to dream-mode.

Cinnamon Smile

Everytime I am with you,

Even ten hours seem to be few.

I crack a hundred jokes and look towards you,

Did they bring a smile anew?

And then slowly I see you smirking,

Like a magic it seems to be working.

That one smile of you my dear,

Stays with me you be far or near.

I close my eyes or keep them open,

I smile to your smile, like to the smell of cinnamon.

I may have met more than a thousand people,

But I haven't seen a smile more sweeter.

Every person, I could understand, what makes them happy,

But when it comes to you I just become a little crappy.

Your smile, I think is most precious in this world,

Perhaps more precious than this world's worth.

It's more rare than finding a pearl in an oyster,

Or chances of me going to the moon to loiter.

Oh and when you start speaking,

My heart from my mouth seems to be peeking.

To know of the source of this angelic voice,

It would beat outside my body if it had a choice.

My mind it hopes one day it will know you better,

Whenever you're around it is unable to act clever.

And surrenders to your presence.

That is the level of your influence!

Situations like these, I hope to know of the future,

I don't like believing in the past - who acts like my life tutor.

Like always, I hope this is something different,

And for a change, is what I hope as the end.

Van Brandt Pt II

As the tower bell rings,

and to the violinist's tune we sing,

Van Brandt climbs the tower and sits on the ridge,

Of this tower which stands on the edge of Charles Bridge.

He watches as hundreds of people cross the river,

to this side and that, without a quiver.

Why this bridge and not any other?

It is afterall not a lover.

Few men chose and others followed,

Seems like most of us are afterall that hollow.

But then Van Brandt smiled because he realised,

Something that perhaps wasn't a surprise.

That he too like the hundreds of other men and women,

Will also have to cross the bridge in the end.

Van Brandt Pt I

Van Brandt,
He Ran.
He ran across the bridge,
And hid inside the windmill.
Through the window on the top floor,
He looked at the world he thought he had known.

Playing the violin he would attract admirers,
But would change the tune when someone came near.
He would run down the stairs,
Across the several stares.
And jump into the canal to be with the ducks,
Trying to runaway, he'd try his luck.

On the other side he met familiar faces,
Among whom he found traces,
Of the past he hoped would flow into his future,
Long forgotten, almost unknown creatures.
They sat and ate desserts of ginger and cinnamon,
The time they spent together, like before, was amazingly fun.

But then the time limit given to them,
Alas, came to an end.
Which made Van Brandt feel sad,
Because he genuinely enjoyed the time he had.
He wished he could have stayed there forever,
Who knows if he will see the creatures again ever.

So then Van Brandt,
He ran.
He ran across the bridge,
And hid inside the windmill.

The Way Out

As it subsides - the rain,

all the efforts that seem to have gone in vain,

and have been the cause of so many pains,

seem to lose the power they have till now gained.

As the clouds make way for a clear sky,

and the sun at its peak is about to shine,

I close my eyes to feel the warmth of the light.

to enjoy this freedom I earned in my own right.

Just as I close my eyes, I can see the sun,

turn into a spotlight to a scene seen by none.

Not even me - a dream shown by the power,

the power of the sun's light when it showers,

on this view, that seems like a dream even in my dream,

and I sit back to enjoy this beauty's cream.

Just then I hear this voice as that of a narrator,

who tries to explain what one sees in the theatre.

But the voice seems to be talking directly to me,

I look around but the source is nowhere to be seen.

I close my eyes in my dream again, to hear the voice,

who somehow made me make this choice.

It started with a simple sentence talking about reality.

Asking me what I thought of the setting I just saw in clarity?

"It was a dream of course! I don't think it was real!"

And the voice replied, "That isn't you talking but your fear.

What I just showed you was glimpse of what lies ahead,

Your reality, was by destiny, with this scene wed.

Don't let your belief in yourself die.

Take the wings of this dream and fly."

Right when the voice said this last line,

I opened my eyes to this baby's whine.

Who stopped as soon as he saw me awake,

When I wasn't sure what to make,

of this thing I just saw.

The thoughts still raw,

Questioning still, "Did really happen?"

My train came to a halt at the last station.

When I got down I looked around for the 'way out' sign,

With the doubts still in my confused mind.

I took an inspiration from the direction sign when I saw it,

Which for this confused thought, was perfect to sort it:

"Whenever you are in doubt, 

Remember, there is always a 'way out'."

नज़रो की कहानी

उनकी और हमारे नैन कुछ ऐसे मिले,

जैसे बंजर ज़मीन पर फूल हो खिले। 

कुछ उनकी नज़रो ने कहना चाहा,

और कुछ हमने सुनना चाहा।

क्या जाने की वह भी वाही सोच रहे थे,

जो हम चाहते थे वह हमसे कहें?

क्या वही दास्तान वह अपने मनन में लिख रहे थे,

जिसके हज़ारों पन्ने एक नज़र में हमने लिख दीये?

इस सोच में हम तब तक खोये रहे,

जब तक वह हमारी आँखों से ओझल  न हो गए।  

हमें लगा कि शायद यह एक शुरुआत है,

एक इशारा, जो ऊपरवाले की सौगात है। 

पर कहानी तो तभी ख़त्म हो गयी थी, 

जब उन्होंने अपनी आँखों पर चश्मे का पर्दा डाल लिया।

The Three Men at Percy Street

One day sitting by the window,
Something caught my eye; previously unknown.
Three smartly dressed men and their story,
Who stood in confidence on Percy Street, hoping to make history.
But before I could see what they were doing,
My mind over my senses started ruling.
And took me into this world I often go into,
Where my dreams and imagination belong to.

I started thinking of the three men and their lives,
Where do they live? Do they take the tube? Did they bring their wives?

I last visited this part of my world,
Six and a half years ago and these thoughts since were unheard.
But today again as I sit by the same window,
Something caught my eye; previously known.
Those three smartly dressed men and their story,
Still standing there, they did make history.