Untitled Love

The wind had smell

A propitious flavor to inhale

When the sky wasn’t blue

Walked there an angel

Her wings were glowing too

A girl in pink

I was in love... I think!

Her golden earrings dance

Blew my mind, lost in trance

Coiffed were her hair brown

And her smoky eyes frown

Often showed dulcet blink

I was in love... I think!

She moved forth

My heart followed

Acting like a tween

People around stood still

Cut in yellow, carmine and green

Then came a symphony  sync

I was in love... I think!

A call, her phone said

Her feet tiptoed, lips moved

Bright red, on the white bed

I saw her finger; a jewel blazing

A kinship; a wedding ring glaring

Sank my heart tween

And even at its bursting brink

I was in love... I think!

Vanished the smell and its flavor

The sky turned back blue

No wings to do the favor

People moved, started the rite

Path trodden, in black & white

No tears! Just little eyes shrink

But I was in love... I think!

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I Am The God

They are all voids
Where you lay,
Shallow are the rivulets
Where you play,
Where the light is faint
And every heart has dent,
Where the honesty is said rude
And cruelty implies being dude.
Do you remember,
The last window you broke?
Not with stones;
With words you spoke.
You have worked hard
And turned rich,
You followed the ways
That preached the leech.
You built ‘homes’ for yourselves,
And ‘houses’ for elderly.
But your homes have voids
And there you lay,
Shallow are the rivulets
And there you play.

You printed my preaching,
Gathered them in Bible
In Gita and Quran,
And raged wars in babel.
I had loved you all,
Never let you ever fall.
I wonder about the courage
You packed in your luggage,
And about the demons you gather,
You turn devilish and raging
And disloyal to your father.
I watch you all
Like a film in a roll,
You haven’t reached heights
And still survive in a burrow.
Your home still have voids
And there you lay,
Shallow are the rivulets,
And there you play….

[I wrote this for Blognostics long ago. I shared it now on my own site. :)]

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Phoning Myself...

Hovering scorns have to be kept aside

With a gush of jolt, 

Determination we must abide.

We have wished to see the unseen,

We can't look back now,

It won’t show the path we mean.

The flow can’t bowel us in his swirls,

We have the courage now,

To pamper the force in its watery grills.

Let our goal caress us on every side,

Let’s wake up now,

And get prepared for the ride,

Our pack exists being the best lets think

And move on to face the powerful tide.

How high it will go, surely we don’t know,

But keep up the will that we have to glow,

We have to show.

Let’s bring back some smiles

From few distant miles;

Let’s set ourselves to bring back the glory,

Let’s join hands to recreate the theory.

We can do very well,

No matter of what others say

And where they excel.

We will bring back,

The treasured and hidden ones

Somewhere from a distant rack,

And that’s our new glory,

We will redefine it

And knit a new glittful story...

[I scribbled this poem long ago when I was about to enter into my college life. I have shared it now, after one and a half year later of my joining in college.]

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Oh Love! You are mine

I wish the sky to show me the Sun today; the sunshine of the first day of February that should have warmth of yours, and the clumsiness that your open hairs had on me. I wish if it could cover my face again. The flowers have already bloomed. I wish them to hold their fragrance good till you hold my hands again. My hands are empty though, but I know you would be holding them wherever you are now. I am waiting for the butterfly you always send, to let me know that you have put your face on my heart again. You had filled the colors daintily on the piece of paper with your lipstick stains in pink; and the nightingale had parceled it to me last year. I am waiting for if she is going to come to me again. I am waiting for if she is going to address me your message –‘Oh Love! You are mine’.

Though you chose to move away, I know it was not by your choice. You said you needed to go, but you had waited for me, I know. I was looking for you too, but couldn’t utter a word about you. The song we composed together stays revived, and it says that you are still here, in my heart where you always hived. This February, I play the tune again that you taught me on my guitar; and it’s my birthday too honey, and I am going to sing Happy Birthday to me myself, because you moved away so far.

How should I blame the fortunes, its him that made us meet; and if we couldn’t stay longer then I must not curse him for this bad treat. I know you would be unhappy too, because you had promised to live with me until I don’t leave. February is just a month, you made its relevance for me indeed. And at this note, I read your note that has your lipstick stains on it and it says ‘Oh Love! You are mine’.

When I walk around in spring, I remember to keep my hold on flowers soft. Tickling my fingers on the rosy petals reminds me of your fingers on mine, and my thumb caressing them slowly. I can’t hurt your hands with my grip hard, and so I touch the flowers soft. Though birds often do the chirruping that may resemble your scolds for me, but I miss the movement of your lips that I used to watch while you kept scolding me.
The tree with our names on it stands intact with his mates even today, but I sit under its shadows alone now. I touch our names engraved on it, and I recall how a girl proposed a boy- ‘Oh Love! You are mine; forever would you be my Valentine?’

[For We Have a Story]

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My Folded Tongue

Talking with people in general, and speaking in front of group of people, how do you take these two different things? Pardon me if I quoted the same thing and called them to be different. But I consider them to be two separate areas that have significance in each case to be different from the other. We basically do the talking with people to let them know what we want them to know, things we would like to share, a typical discussion we would like to hold. Keeping everything inside our heart is not an easy task and so most of us need to speak with someone. Now where does this speaking in front of people stands for? I suppose speaking in front of people is a more official template, where measurements of your flow of words have serious importance, and you need to clarify yourselves and things you are discussing about. It is a more responsible way to express the matters. People may cross question you and you will need to clarify them over and over again. Now when you meet your dear ones what do you do? Do you speak out as if you are in front of people or is it the normal talking that you do?

I had always thought I am in a habit where I talk less. Recently I have realized that whenever I started the talks, I kept switching in between the shoes of the talking, and of the speaking. Why does this happen that even in friendly talks, we need to clarify ourselves, we need to give a proof of holding the way we talked. I looked into it, gargled the jug full of thoughts and contemplated few coins that didn't shine. I concluded that though I tend to speak less, but I slip into the boat that sails me off, and I keep throwing the words with every push on my oars. There should be a proper proportion of what you need to speak and what you actually speak. We must not let ourselves flow by the stream of emotions. If your boat slips off the coast into the sea then you need to step into the water to bring it back on the sands. It need not be mentioned how worse it can be if someone speaks unprecedentedly. You can’t do more good to him by discussing more than what he expects you to do. Being diplomatic is the best option left with us to continue being on the safe side and to prevent hearts to disassemble. This is the professional way of dressing ourselves. And I am trying to suit myself the best way in my professional field. This is just an experimental proposition by me, your views may vary. I have guilt if I hurt someone with my over explanatory talks without any need at all. 

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Did You Know?

The more I know, 
The less it seems what I know.
And when I have known 
All what I wanted to know, 
I see there is lot more to know 
That I never thought I would ever know.


But I know, 
I cant stop; I have to let you know
Lots of things you never cared to know. 
Few things I missed  too I know, 
Where you are weak you too even know. 
And new things that you know, 
You should share to make us know, 
If we missed them but didn't know. 


Feel my words to know, 
how urgently we need  this to know. 
This is about the Knowledge my friends;
The more you know, 
The less it seems what you know.

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My College Life - Phase 1

10^th of August 2010, the day was. We had our orientation ceremony at college’s auditorium. From the next day our classes were to begin. I was late by two days. I couldn’t attend the orientation day neither could I attend the first class of my first semester. I came to know about that orientation ceremony when my mates narrated me later. Few called it boring, like every auditorium function that I am seeing since then, but few called that very much fascinating it was. I can understand; college organizes a function and that also to welcome the first years, so they are most likely going to like it, not because it is good at entertaining them or pertaining to their academics but because of the zeal and energy first year has. I couldn’t be there to watch so I shall not comment much on it. 'BCET' printed on a pen we got, and a letter from our director. The letter had a context in which he told us not to be oversensitive. It did contain few things more, but this very one I can’t forget anyhow, at least after seeing whatever I have seen till now in college.

That was not the first time when I was to live away from home. I was in Bansal Classes, Kota, for one year. Preparations and attention towards my goal couldn’t lead me to glory. I dreamt of ‘Kharagpur’ and fell in ‘Durgapur’ at last. I was very shy to accept that I was there in Kota when people in college asked me where I did the preparation. Not shy but very much shameful I used to feel talking about it. Now I have learnt to accept my defeat.  And I don’t hesitate telling them. It is not that now I have turned shameless. It is so because I have learnt to accept the truth.

There was one thing that worried me the most. I had never shared my room with anybody. I am doing that very well now. But then things were different; I was different. I was not sure of how I would be adjusting with someone I didn’t know, with someone whose nature I was not sure of what kind it was. I met him in the evening, his name is Sheikh Nehar, and he is still my roommate. He is a decent guy. I never had anything to complain about him the entire first year. There are several memorable moments that we have seen together, and we are still seeing.:)
After I settled my bags and baggage in my wardrobe, I went for a shower. The journey of 1147 miles was very much tiring and I was almost sapped out. I thought of having a shower. I can’t figure out what actually was over me then. I entered the bathroom and I cried. I cried loud in shower but not loud enough to get heard outside. I was missing my mom, my dad. I was thinking where I had reached. It was not worth for what I did. There were so many things for which I found myself culprit. Water splashes mingled with my tears and tried to lessen its presence, and then entered a silent part of me into me, that did the secret discussions whenever I was lonely. That silent part is still within me...

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The Butterfly

On an ivory shade with some brown threaded marks; masked is my body meek and weak, popped out into two bright wing arcs.

And on my wings azure, lie mustered shapes and some tiny little dots; some lucid little hills and some round yellowish sprouts.

I never knew how I looked and what amativeness I had, until you came into my life with my image in your blue eyes clad.

I surmise my colors are no more blazoned; I haven’t seen myself since you had left, my charm left too with my mirror embossed on your eyes pinioned.

Now in the silence of my solitariness few chirruping I hear; what do they say, I can’t make out its meaning neither you can hear it clear.

On dry tongue of mine your sweetness is still alive; a flavor not to forget from our nibbling kisses; the scent of your embrace around my life.

How we lived together is a distant memory dainty; my hold on you and yours on mine; exchange of our gestures in doziness of wine.

Nowhere to live I have now but in memories of you, and in all those moments where we were together-a colored me & a colored you.

Lie they say that the most beautiful I am, nature’s worthy gift & spring’s charm I am; Truth I say that without you a dead musk I am, a bleached spot with no shine I am.

And before I die, a glimpse of yours I need; my last breath shall be the aroma of my love, of my lovely butterfly.

(©) ANSHUL GAUTAM'S

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