A tryst with the night

Stealing a moment of respite,
I keep my date, pressing work despite.

Staring up at the night sky,

Thoughts meander -

Resting on days gone by,

Shattered dreams dotting the way,
Aspirations that couldn't see the day's light,
Consigned to the perpetual darkness of the night,
Stripped of the very desire to take flight,
The moon shrouded by the clouds,
Perpetuates the melancholy mood,
And I ruminate on past deeds,
Unfulfilled promises and needs,

Lost in thought, I glance up to see,
A shooting star making its way hastily,
Streaking the skies with an ephemeral glow,
Holding out promises of a better tomorrow,
I take it as a divine sign,
And focus on memories sanguine,
The moon suddenly peeks out,
Revealing to darkness, his clout,
Bathing my surroundings with pure light,
And instilling in me, a willingness to fight,
This was an enlightening tryst with the night.

Solitude

Getting up never used to be a chore,
Yet, today just seemed to be a bore,
Slowly dragging his body upright,
He vanquished the vestige of the night,
By reaching out and drawing the curtain.

The golden rays streamed into his den,
Bouncing off motes of dust,
Revealing the form of a pensive soul,
His furrowed brows did make it known,
That he was man to whom did destiny dole,
More than a fair share of cruel hands,
And that his star now just dimly shone.

Yet there was a sparkle in his eyes - an expression of hope,
And of the resolve to live through this phase - to cope,
To weather the storm and to emerge stronger,
To not shy away from his calling any longer,
He steeled himself - he has a long way to tread,
With solitude the solitary companion.

The eyes of the 'beholden'

They beckon and invite,
Appeal to hopes and aspirations,
Offer glimpses of the future that might,
Be unveiled, if looked through their sight,
Their intense gaze, pierces the soul,
Like an artist's creation, following his every move,
He appears the sole object of their desire,
And so does their beauty don a vice like grip,
Entwining his all in their mire,
Elevating him beyond existence mere,
Intoxicating him, their presence sheer.

...

Wears down this novelty in due course,
The eyes now do not even offer recourse,
For they not be directed at him anymore,
Rather do they peer, to some far off horizon,
Eagerly awaiting someone else to adore,
His hopes dashed, his desires wizened,
Engulfed by a void that suddenly surrounds,
He finds nor happiness, neither solace around,
A part of him does slowly die,
So do the eyes of the 'beholden' smite,
One in whose eyes did beauty lie.

The nay-sayer

Oft does one encounter,
The moment of pure inspiration,
When all seems possible,
And the world seems to be at your feet.

But suddenly, the little voice within,
Knocks ever so gently on the conscience,
Making its presence known,
Raking up fear of things that might go wrong,
Creating tendrils of doubt in your resolve,
And suddenly, the foothold seems not so strong,
The certitude does slowly dissolve,
Like sand slipping through clutching fingers,
Hope is displaced by foreboding that lingers,

Many greats, with achievements numerous,
Did thus have their fates sealed,
And so have lost to themselves,
Many who circumstances could not reel.

For while indeed a powerful tool,
Our caution often does make us a fool,
Our life's often take a turn for the better,
If we embrace situations that arise,
Taking them head on, rather than playing it wise,
Not letting the nay-sayer within dictate,
Rather, letting a bold decision seal our fate.
For, even if things don't work out,
Is all ever lost? Is it ever too late?

Of days gone by

I often look back at days gone by,
Silently wishing them nigh,
Engulfed in wistful thoughts,
Peering at shrouded materializations,
Through memories' nostalgic haze...

At your form do my eyes rest,
My recollections stand refreshed,
And memories come flooding by,
Of the starry night skies, the long walks,
The beautifully renditioned songs, the stimulating talks...

The days that were,
The days that no longer are,
The days that seem so near,
The days that are so far.

In words do I find refuge,
From the torrent of emotion,
So do I pen my thoughts,
Each line and every verse,
Be these memories etched away in rhymes,
Staring back longingly at past times.

In search

No sight of it I catch,

Frantic grows the search,

For this is no thing to lose...

Friends are consulted,

Acquaintances few,

And people who I thought I knew.

Alas, tis of no use.

Time ticks along,

I grow restless,

Almost sealed is my fate,

When, I catch a glimpse,

Rummaging through the baggage of time,

And emotion,

The byways of the mind,

And heart,

Do I find it at last,

Elusive as it were before,

I glance inwards, introspect,

And behold, it is revealed.

There it stands -

Solace...peace is at hand.

At the tea stall

**Part 1 of n. Attempts at describing scenes from India as I remember them**

The gold plating atop the minaret of the nearby mosque had long stopped sparkling, the sky was beginning to  lose its orange tint and day was fast fading away into darkness.

"Bhai, ek strong chai dena", said Amit to the chai-waala stationed on the pavement outside Anupama's office. The falling darkness heralded the beginning of work for these chai-waalas, whose mobile stalls, host to simmering kettles and various other paraphernalia, provided much needed respite from work for many engineers like Amit. For Amit, the visit to the tea-stall, as he waited to pick Anupama up, had become a ritual - a stimulus to transition his mind from work-issues to family. The vendor duly acknowledged his loyal customer with a quick grin of recognition, despite being flooded by numerous other requests. "Saab, memsaab lunch ke baad aayi thi chai peene", he added as his callous bare-hands lifted the simmering cauldron of milk without a flinch. He poured the hot-milk into a glass containing sugar, moving the cauldron farther from the glass over time, allowing Newton's gravity to work on dissolving the sugar. The addition of sieved tea-water, boiling in a different container, followed by a round of gravity induced stirring, and soon, Amit found himself accepting the glass of tea from the chai-waala. He placed a five rupee coin on top of the steel box that had been converted by the resourceful man from a discarded gift-box, found scavenging at a scrap-dealer's place, to the container of his earnings. 

Amit walked a short distance away from the stall, trying to shut out the clamorings of fellow tea-connoisseurs. Blowing gently on the glass, he cautiously took his first sip of the tea. The taste was not lost on him, and it had the desired effect -- it had been a long day, of work, sandwiched between numerous meetings, and he was glad to have it behind him now.

An ode

**Disclaimer** In "light" of not too old scientific discoveries, this poem may not be technically correct ;).

The healer, the revealer,
The herald of change,
Always on the move,
Striding forth regardless,
With naught to prove,
The witness to it all,
From ebb and flow of  the tides,
To seasons spring and fall,
The constant companion,
From cradle to grave,

The oft taken for granted,
Oft over-estimated,
Oft repented,
Oft enjoyed,
Oft reminisced,
Self-contained marvel.
Time...

The Happy Place

**Note to self: read when the going gets tough to get to your happy place**

** *
Buried deep in work and irritable too?
Worry not, here's what I cooked up for you
***

Do you remember the morning at the park,
I'll recount it for you,
Take you down memory's lane,
To a time when all was peaceful and sane,
Let your imagination run wild,
Imagining what follows as would a child.

Twas a memorable day,
Heralded by a cold breeze,
Indeed, in the month of May.
The flowers scented,
Swayed gently, caressed by the wind,
The morning sun streamed upon dewy grass,
And the moon did rescind.
The sky was lit with an orange tint,
The birds hopped and skipped,
From their each step, joy dripped,
The little children frolicked about,
Filled with innocence, their big eyes,
Their little hearts brimming with zest and life,
Each of them beaming a smile.