Consider their ways too!

Classical thoughts may not be naive,
they must be wise for others.
Like the old Banyan tree, sagacious and shrewd,
something else must be catchy for you.

Oh dear, philanthropy!
Do not blame misanthropy!
They'd have different outlook,
although they contradict you.
Consider their ways too, now,
they can be true someday, somehow.

Oh religion!
please don't blame atheism!
Although they don't believe in God,
they may believe in mankind.
Thoughts, though secernated,
feelings may be the same.
Consider their ways too, now,
They can be true someday, somehow!

Mankind is varied,
flamboyant and vivacious.
It has a different part in each color.
Things, though different, aren't  fallacious,
all it needs is a different outlook altogether.

Past is gone!

       We march forward with the momentum. Marching ahead, we step on stones, wind steps on us. We step in mud, rain steps on us. But when we cross the finish line, the rain, wind, mud and stones are just an infinitesimal part of our march.
     When we recall our march, we recount the finish line that was seen ahead but not the steps. Our life is analogous to a stepping march.
       We have to recount the destination and successes rather than the hindrances. However, there are words which hamper this theme like, 'regret', 'bad memories' and 'lamentation'. We, walk through fire, but humans remember the burns instead of lessons.
     It is said, we should learn from our mistakes. However, it should be proceed by, 'and then forget the mistakes'. If a mistake teaches us something, it is good. If it troubles you, better let it go with the polar winds. But, keep the lessons with you and do not let them go. 
    In order to memorize things, they should be revised frequently. But, if past is not pleasant, why do we recall it over and over?The time gone is gone and is gone forever, it is never useful crying over slopped milk. 
       Learn from it and forget it. Lurking between the past and present can only spoil our future. All we have to do is move on. Begin with a smile and a vacant head, where vacancy awaits lessons and good of the path instead of the regrets and heartbreaks. So, better recall the good moments and continue the march.

The known stranger

It was just the other day,

when I was accompanied by my mates,

with giggles followed the smirks and laughs.

The sights on us went unnoticed.

For a moment, my face was frayed,

as I incidentally noticed those eyes.

those left me whimsical with my heart pondering.

my brain recounted the scenes, shared with her to me.

Those weren't really needed,

I never really had to recall.

For, the part of the person was with me,

but the scenes, shared were weakened.

I wished to hug her as we used to before,

but wondered if the hug would be back tighter,

I wished to tell her secrets and incidents

but my lips went heavy wondering,

if the ears would really care to hear.

the millimeters were now kilometers

as the hearts couldn't hear each other.

I saw my new friends to whom I can tell my feelings,

but was gloomy over the thought,

that the moments won't be again with her.

I said 'hi' and beamed radiantly, 

with awkward courtesy which was new.

I saw in those known eyes whom I had known so long

But averted my gaze, as they were

nothing more than known strangers now.

It all comes back to the backyard grave.

The vacillating voice hits my head
With numerous cries
And impairing sound.
I have been hurt enough though, 
Can't grasp the meaning 
Can't grasp the thud 
Obstinate mind, would never try to hear 
The suggestion so true 
The voice in blues 
Faced hard cracks with shattering loud,
My heart, it gets up and searches for wows,
Promises by cheaters with cheering hopes
It all comes back to the backyard grave

Eyes can't stop looking at it,
Mind runs back to the memories again 
Thoughts are bright but dim is the light,
It yearns for more shine 
and yearns for rains
And it all takes me back to the fruitless hopes
And it all comes back to the backyard grave.

Without the concern for the future.

         With arms stretched standing on the edge of mountain, the man shouted,"Don't worry dear, some solution will flow to you like this wind" he could have fallen from that height. He was a step away from death. 
       He turned around to see me in my life jacket. I was on my trip to the cliffs of the high mountains. He came near me and said, "Don't worry dear, the wind won't let you hit the ground" I heard his voice fading and it finally disappeared among the bushes. 
     The man might have been a rebel or an audacious. Whoever he was, he was least concerned about future. He showed no sign of concern for anything around him. His call which echoed, signaled about his problem. With the wonder for the man, I reminisced all the moments. 
         Moments which I had spent without any fear or concern. I ended up with nothing in my mind. I remembered, the slides which had me sliding down but landing me in mud. I used to get serious scoldings from my mom for dirtying my clothes. Was that really something which I had done without the concern for future?
      I remembered the falls from my bicycle. No matter how many times I landed heavily hurting myself, I used to get up and ride the cycle again. I kept wondering. 
          Our adult mind keeps developing year by year, day by day and moment by moment. With the development, comes the worries of losing the complexities. We are taught to take care of ourselves because, we get life only once. 
     This is how, we survive, we walk carefully, perturbing about any accident that may strike us. We are constantly ruled by fear. We do everything with great manoeuvre in fear of the future. That is true that we get life only once. But it is also true that life is to live,not to survive, being afraid of the dangers that may end our life. 
       We think about others more than we think of ourselves. Care, affection and also responsibilities, they hover around our minds. I thought about it more and I was relishing more memories which I had lived being dauntless. With the wind hitting my face, I sat on the edge of the mountain. This time I felt the wind in my fist rather than seeing for the height from I may fall, or anything that may happen to me in near future.

When I'd spent it for me for the last.

My rusted duct and somnolent eye

Met a stature which wasn't so fresh

Lost and fragile having dry lips

It had no cover for the feet

It had no cover for its weeps

It holds my arm with scanty grip

Yet so vulnerable to writhe

The innocent face with weary eyes

Wore tons of kindness without any lies

It stared at me with those drowsy eyes

But I still hesitated facing it a while

Still I couldn't recognize the stature

Myriad guesses, yet not so sure

Thought of people who were my friends?

Thought of relatives, love, yet no end!

Couldn't identify those drowsy eyes

I suspected my smart and witty mind

With list of names whirling inside,

Suddenly I felt like I left a name behind

The pieces began falling into places

Like the crosswords gleaming with keys

I got the hold on my own hand,

It kept shivering throughout

I scrolled my sight to the stature’s eyes,

And faced it strong though with fright.

The painful strokes hit me hard,

writhing with pain, ripped apart.

I searched in the time flying by in the past

When I’d spent it for me for the last

No answers, ignored myself

Not enough dauntless to face myself

I hit the ground hard wondering,

What all mirror had taught me forlornly.

On the busy streets of Mumbai.

        "Hey, something of you fell down" I heard someone say behind, approaching me. I turned around to see my mobile cover lying on the railway platform. I wondered how it fell on the ground. My gaze met the lady who had informed me about it. 
    'Thank you aunty, it's too kind of you' 
   I exposed my gratitude as politely as I could. These escorts on the busy streets of Mumbai are very mundane. One would be informed by a car driver that we haven't locked the car door properly, or the bike stand is still down. People care for each other on these busy streets.
       People get out from their homes early morning with a mind full of stress, responsibilities, and also frustration  But these busy minds are also full of love and compassion. They dream, day dream and have a vision full of peace and serenity. The massive potholes in rainy season, heavy traffic jams, inordinate crowds in Mumbai locals are worth to be frustrated with. Yet, the common citizens ignore these hindrances and look forward to their day's agendas. 
     Mumbai is a multilingual, multi-religious city. People from all over India migrate here in search of better employments. Mumbai is the ultimate destination for the people seeking glamour and finance as Bollywood, India's main film industry works here. This makes Mumbai the most populated city in India. Over the years, the overcrowding on each street has been a matter of concern for every Mumbaikar. The heavy trains early morning don't have a single void to occupy extra commuters. People climb on train tops, they stand in the spaces between two train cars or they hang in the trains risking their lives. Everyday, there are approximately 10 deaths on the tracks.
      In Mumbai, time is more valuable than life. That is why, it is called the busiest city in India. Here, time waits for none. It is also the prime focus for the terrorists who aim for India. 11/7, 26/11 are great examples of it. Mumbai is battered, assailed, and weakened. Yet, the city dares to stand back with the will and power of citizens as, the people here are no inhumane.
       They help each other and assist fellow citizens in crucial times.Then the assistance can be of any form. Be it just telling about fallen cover!
     With the thoughts about my home city whirling around my mind, a beam occurred on my face. And when I focused back on the railway station, I saw the overcrowded Kalyan local halted on the platform. With efforts, I somehow boarded it. It brought another beam on my face!