Brain-sick's Diary #2 >> If I were a Bird

It has been harsh these days. Weather has been behaving strangely. The sun is shy to come out, and has lost somewhere. Probably it has its own chores to sort out. I can see how the clouds have been troubling him. And there has been rain which was not anticipated, at least not at this time of year. Flowers in my garden, with feeble colors on their petals, are showing their miseries. I can do nothing other than watching them wither in cold. It pains to watch them die; flowers I had gardened with all my care.

Even the birds have migrated. Who is going to look after their homes now? I watch them fly together, flapping their wings slowly in distant sky, sometimes showing up, sometimes hiding behind clouds. Among the flock, I try to find the one, who is lonely. It may be because I want someone to resemble me. I look for my existence in them. The bad side of me, and a little good in me, I appraise each one minutely. In books, I read, living life with too much care and precautions is certainly not a good lifestyle. We should be carefree, and joyous. We should never look back in the long race we are running in. These are what books on ‘Art of Living’ say.

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If I Could Fly...

If I could fly,

I would flee high,

Up into the sky,

Where every night is Diwali,

Resides our Almighty,

And his ruling ecstasy.

Where stars are lover,

Of their velvety cover.

Together they form

Constellations among,

Their vast spread out,

Astro miles away,

Their rapping gleams,

And albumen ray.

I sigh,

For if I could defy,

The heated 'Surya',

I would flee high,

Up into the sky,

To lift it up

From the green paddy,

And move it above

Up into the blue howdy.

You have your adorned 'Rath',

But still on every 'Chath',

Why you move slow

And delay in every go?

Don’t make devotees weak,

With your move slow

Again on this festive streak.

Bless us with light

With your intense bright,

Make us brave

And vanish our fright.

Don’t fold our wishes

Into pile of files,

Like those police cases

In our human races,

Which has no ending,

No justice;

And always kept pending.

This time, do some quicky,

Shower us with love

And some happy squeaky.

Or else I will fly,

I will fly high,

Up into the sky,

Where you live in your hive.

I won’t wait

And make my cries thrive,

I have learnt from my races,

So I won’t forget to carry,

A token of bribe…

Copyrights - ANSHUL GAUTAM'S

Images in this post - Google Images Search

(Happy Festive lights, and a very Happy Chath Puja to all my friends... :) )

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