Into the city that never sleeps

Mumbai and its people, their lives advance in chaos. Where is peace? Broad roads that never get vacuous, present a lively example of Marathon for life. The rich and the poor meet at road signals, and their meet lasts till the time the red is not green. Be it chawls, or the multistorey apartments, or be it Mumbai’s sea beaches, everywhere people are present in abundance, occupied by aims and goals of their own lives. The most intriguing thing about its people is the will to work harder. They focus on their goals and keep chasing them, and the rest they never care for. Emotions are present in them too, but the spirit to move on in life is instilled at the roots and that overpowers the pains. 

The archaic fervor mixed in the modern Indian life style at Mumbai, is a must to experience. In my three days tour of Mumbai, I experienced a portion of it. Presenting few of my amateur photographed shots at Mumbai. 

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The Photo frame

The frame allures,

Windowed bafflement oarlocks me

Sick shredded stitches bothers again

And bespeak our love alive.

Your eyes were my dearest

Chasteness! 

With astuteness of ocean

Chaplets of sparkles existed,

Adored with passion in your eyes.

My hand blockades before the frame

But how would my heart?

Your fingermarks perch there;

They are costliest, I dare not botch.

I only entice to your call;

The call you make through the frame.

And your eyes clout me

In your lonesome photo I have.

Out of my clutches,

Memories are mellowed on the photo frame.

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Eternal Beauty

I admire the beauty if it exists, which would depict an inheritance of my individuality, amidst my blanked out identity; a kind that belongs to me, an accomplice to my soul's anatomy.
Like the pearls shine, white and pure, still unnoticed, subdued in disdain, my beauty lies coated.
I wait, with pains stitched through patience; I don’t bleed like the pearls don’t sweat.
I wait; someday a soul mate will come to plow the sand dunes, to take away the pearls that lie on the way. Then I will be sculptured near someone’s heart, like the pearls will necklace around with love.

I admire the beauty if it exists, which would let me see even when there prevails the darkest dark.
Like the fireflies blink, some far and some near, a timid melody blinks my mind and says a beauty stand by me. I look; with thrills sailing in my veins, drums percussing on my chest, I search the truth in twilight.
I look through my open window, where fluorescence enters and fills emptiness in my eyes. And there I witness a beauty in disguise.

Why a beauty hides in disguise? Why not it pulsates and waves its original vibes? For if beauty is veritable, why doesn’t it finds its accomplice. Why it remains lost and hitches in hands of dust. The extent of hitches has furthered its boundary. My every lookup, every searching ends at obscured vicinity. I lie dormant with no trace for my pair.

Now I want to announce that beauty doesn’t exist. But my heart foolish throbs for it; few impressions of illusions lie forged on the walls. Like the pearls burn in heat under the weight of sand dunes, I glow in flames driven by hopes in my eyes. I want to end my hopes too. But still...
Still, when the heat around churns to near death, snoring thunder in sky reminds of beauty in rains.
And then evokes admirations for a soul mate, who will wash away the heat, and pick up the pearls. I will be sculptured too near someone’s heart, like the pearls will necklace around with love...
                                                                                       
                                                                                        ....And the search for eternal beauty continues

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I Found A Lonely Me...

Feeble dimmed steps,

Irradiated my eyes

Quilt’s beneath;

Awakened me

From lust in ream,

And broke the infatuated dream.

I moved to see,

I heard some heart throbs;

I found a lonely me.

It looked like day;

Or may be moonlight,

I say.

Fog with desire,

Impounded with ire,

Showed its love,

On my glassy window;

Their sexual intimacy,

Was there at show;

Passion in their cosmos,

Which I couldn’t mow.

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