I became friends with the best

- A poem as a present to one of my best friends whose birthday comes on May 10.

All my past days have been a real mess,
In the absence of a true friend who could caress
My sweltering life like a soothing zephyr,
And produce music from this rusted lyre!

Always I looked at the holy heavens and beseeched,
To introduce someone in my life to whom I would reach
In times of happiness, dolor, grief and pain,
And his company would say that this world was indeed sane.

My search for a pellucid friend that day implicitly,
When I talked with you first and you responded happily.
All the past damage of my life faded away that very instance.
The purity of your soul extinguished the candles of my grievance.

I still remember what a special day it was,
When you confined all your trust in me without a cause.
That nineteenth of September was indubitably so blessed,
As my regular dream got materialised when I became friends with the best.

You were so transparent even though you had an unusual enigma,
Your confidence in me forever erased all of my nostalgia.
I was surely revered by the Lord’s angels on my lofty quest,
As I found you at the time when I was completely friend-bereft.

You supported me when this entire world said that I was the culprit,
You never carried any complain against me, not even a single grit.
You simply had faith in me in every condition this life gave me,
And never did I realize that even now I was licking some scented glee.

You had many friends, joys and assets which could never make you sad,
Still you took an altruistic interest in my life which surely was no glad.
Lilies and daffodils bloomed up on the dry patches of my ground
On that very day when on an unmisted morning a friend like you I had found.

Nothing can get any better because the Lord gave me the best.
I was branded by love and affection in the centre of my chest.
You stepped into my life and changed it completely,
I stared myself with wonder as I never realized what was happening to me!

I could hear my laughter, after years my eyes were dry,
My existence was refreshed, this time not with an appalling lie.
Out of all the friends which I had made in the sixteen years of my life,
Never did I feel so complacent and proud of my choice.

I swear on God and accept that I owe you all my smiles and mirth,
Today I can confidentally say that nothing which I possess is in dearth.
I feel so special and lucky when I compare myself with the rest,
As my regular dream got materialised when I became friends with the best.

The Diary of Jane

An uneventful night had ended it all for Jane,

It was dark and the land was beaten harshly with the rain.

Today I talk of what occured with a girl fifty years ago,

Who was then twenty three, living in a small island called 'Amingo'.

She mentioned about her life in her personal diary,

Which I found wrapped in dirt beside a quicksand.

The last page of her diary said, "Sweet Lord", in blood,

And a symbol was drawn of some ancient satanic iron brand.

Carefully, I took it home and started reading the contents,

Jane had written about each day of her life covering all events.

She had written about her dead parents and what bizarre she had seen,

In her dreams every night in an ancient castle where she had never been!

I started turning the pages and my eyes caught a highlighted date.

November 24, 1954. She had mentioned about that castle's bulky gate.

And about a symbol of brass which was embedded deep inside it,

Having three snakes with fangs out and their temples oddly lit.

I quickly turned back to the last page again which had this very symbol,

This time it wasn't drawn using ink but with the fresh decades-old blood.

I was intrigued to know more about the escapades of the innocent Jane,

Because her Diary unfolded those mysteries which brought her a lethal bane.

November 26, 1954. She saw that enormous gate with that symbol again

In her dream. And tried to push it to get through but in vain.

But as soon as she touched the lit temple of one of those ferocious snakes,

A squeaking sound was produced which resulted in the opening of that gate.

She entered it, quite timid, unaware of what lay ahead.

The sight of a magnificent ancient castle temporarily made her feel dead.

And then someone screeched painfully in her dream and she woke up,

Frightened and shocked. Ample sweat occupied her delicate forehead.

Every night she saw that mysterious regal castle in her dreams,

But with each passing day she moved deeper into it's awful gleams.

February 13, 1955, she entered into the Living Room of that castle,

But again that painful, helpless shout forced her to quickly hustle.

Jane mentioned about the velvet carpets of different colors covering the floors,

And about some heavy royal curtains guarding the entry of all the doors.

She wrote about the complex structure of that Castle having many rooms,

And about that peculiar screech she heard of that girl entangled in pitiful glooms.

One day as she ventured in that eerie castle in her dream,

She found a door having the picture of her parents hung loosely.

She was startled. A wave of nostalgia asked her frightened heart to scream.

But, on the contrary, she pushed the door quietly, carefully.

And they were there. Her parents stood grinning before her.

Her eyes were welled to see them alive and in full flutter.

She ran to hug them, with a joy more intensified than the pain she had

Of losing them when she was merely a girl trying to figure out the meaning of 'glad'.

But the horror of truth horrified the ecstatic Jane with a horrible impact,

She passed through her parents and certainly they were not intact!

She retraced her steps in confusion wondering what the hell was happening,

But before she could make out, she heard someone nearby sweetly sing.

She shut that door in bewilderment and moved to the next one with fright,

There was a blanket of darkness in the corridor and even the moon didn't look bright.

Jane tried to gulp her fear which was suspended in the middle of her throat,

When she saw that who was the one singing that gentle musical note.

It was her! The young 5-year old Jane singing Jingle Bell Rock on piano

And beside her, her mother stood impressed praising her as a true aficionado.

Muddled, Jane tried to figure out if all this had occured with her in her past.

Flabbergasted, she recalled that it was the very night when she had been with her parents last!

Again tears brimmed up in her red, swollen eyes.

As in dreams, she had entered into an area unstained by any lies.

Hastily she shut that door and went to the next one swinging it open,

The sight of her whimpering parents totally left her to wither in anxiety with hopes broken.

Jane saw those robbers again whose faint imprint always hovered above her,

But this time they were more precise and clear, nothing was a blur.

Her mom had pushed the little sleeping kid beneath the bed when her neck was twisted

And her father's eyes rolled on the floor when the robber’s attack, he resisted.

Jane felt numb after seeing the terrible death her parents had undergone,

And wished that she was there in the past, but now no-one she could warn.

She collapsed on the floor after she saw the blood and pain her parents endured,

And with how much difficulty and grace she was comfortably secured!

Before coming back to life from her dream she noticed a symbol printed on the robber's arm,

She recognised it almost immediately - 3 snakes with temples lit radiating an awkward charm.

And then she saw that castle fading away, slowly but effectively,

As the morning sun rose up from the horizon, emitting energy of frolic brightly.

August 11, 1958 - Jane had entered almost all the doors of the castle with will,

Including the one which had her love kissing her a goodbye forever when she stood still.

And yet there was one left behind which came that troublesome shriek, which she always heard,

Today that mystery forced her to push that door to see what actually behind it occured.

Trembling, Jane wanted to uncover another chapter of her morose, rueful past,

But she realized that the time it showed had not passed, instead it was coming to her fast.

There in front of her she stood. A frightful Jane with eyes lit from the nearby burning fire

And with that white hot brand which a man was taking towards her with eyes of pure ire.

She struggled. She tried to protect herself from charring due to that hot object.

Her victory never materialised. She was struck harsh with a knife on her heart- the God's widget.

She flinched and fell on the floor and screamed as the man lowered the brand towards her,

And those little three snakes on his arm made it all clear, yet again nothing was a blur.

The living Jane recoiled, almost dead to see how she bleeded from everywhere.

The eyes of the dying Jane glistened with the meaningless tears of hope appearing to glare.

The petrified Jane allowed to meet her eyes with the moaning dying Jane,

Her grief subdued the noise of the laughter of those assassins who definitely had no shame.

Intrigued to know what happened next with that cursed Jane, I turned the next page.

But it was blank. August 12, 1958 had no mention of any event or any dream of her.

Confused, I paused on the next date, the 13th of August of Nineteen fifty eight,

Where the words, 'Sweet Lord' and that symbol juddered me strongly with an internal stir.

My mind asked me many questions, the obvious one being, 'What happened to her?

Why did she write the last page of her Diary with perhaps, her own blood?

Why did she not reveal the experience she had on the next night of August Eleven,

Why did she make a reference of only the master of this land and the Heaven?'

There was something more, a lot more to the visions she came across in her dreams,

They showed her the past she had lived and also some mysterious gleams,

Like the symbol she always saw and yet she had nothing to do with it for sure.

Was the fate Jane saw for her behind the last door real, having no cure?

This was the story of a girl who died enigmatically within the shadows of her mind,

No one knows what actually happened to the young Jane who was so sublime.

I certainly found her Diary but still there were many mysteries to correctly unfold,

Because what she saw in her dream on August 12, 1958, the Diary of Jane never told.

My eyes say it

I need a needle to slit my eyes so that I'm able to show the real dismay I'm in,
I want blood to drop with my tears to express how much guilt I was able to win!
I was refused once again to submit any of my aspiration in the plethora of dreams,
I was forcefully pushed to lie on a bed on knives to produce some crass screams!

I was pushed away, I was kicked with awe, I was hurt with the weapon of curses,
I was trampled upon; they tried to erase my existence yet again.
I was confused, I was rejected, I tried to be jolly even though I knew I was dying,
I was hated, I was not appreciated, I cried when I was encouraged to cut my vein.

I was asked to choose between a painful life and a comfortable death,
I was asked to cut open my heart and leave this world without taking another breath.
I was compelled to see a jaunty future in the lives of all those who were related to me,
When I would accept to erase my shadow and refuse to ask for a long life in my plea.

I felt aspyxiated when I saw how unlucky my presence is to all of my dear ones,
Because of me, even they had to break the knots which held all their happiness once.
Everytime my presence makes a flashy growing flower bud change into an ugly fern,
And whenever I step into the Church of Joy, I find its divine walls tremble and the offerings burn.

My life has recorded every new start as a tremour of a harsh ending,
Even if fruits grow over the tree of my life, it does not show any bending.
It stands erect, ugly, without any blissful flowers adorning it's chipped bark,
No virtue of nature was able to pluck it out of the excruciating dark.

I feel so distorted; even I cannot fetch myself out from the latent pool of loneliness,
It is almost everytime I come back into this water even if I try to hold some happiness.
The past ruins of my life abrupt the new infrastructure of joy to come in the process of construction,
I'm holding the bricks and the cement but I lack hands that could help me out with affection.

Every passing day pushes me higher into the steps of the ironic Roman Coliseum,
Every new face I see retards me into a more dishonest grave of hurting delirium.
The ecstasy of living into this great sad world has all abolished from me,
And I feel even more morose when I find that now my desert cannot ever enjoy a breeze.

I wait for miracles everyday to come and swirl its wand of magic and help me out,
And tell this world that the songs I sing are melody, not a sample of disgraceful shouts.
If God exists, why does not he come and wipe even a single tear from my agnostic vision?
I believe in holy things, then why do all the clouds of my hope produce noise after every collision?

I've become so secretive and my eyes enigmatical due to the circumstances I live in,
Still they are able to reflect every loss of my life even though my lips are able to grin.
If anyone tries to look through them, he would get me all nude trying to protect myself -
In the tattered sheet of happiness and in some pale rags of more self-confidence.

I have emotions, I feel bad, I feel hurt whenever I see people degrade my esteem,
But, I'm so weak, I cannot respond with vigour or valiance to shield my remaining gleam.
Because of everything, I may look indifferent, arrogant and maybe plastic,
But I cry everyday and all the tormence I endure and the pain I live, my eyes say it...

Apology

I blend all the words of regret into one,
And say it all to you before my eyes run-
Some unworthy, meaningless matter of grief,
Like opaque droplets of dew on a pestilence-stricken leaf.
I never react in the way the situations ask me,
Instead, I mess it all as much as I can see.
There is hardly any method I can adopt to get rid of my behavior,
Why cannot any mortal walk into my life and be my Savior?
Why don’t I mean it when I say, "I didn't mean it!"
Why I lack firmness in my voice and a determination quite grit?
Why I ruin everything when the infrastructure hardens into a palace,
Why I resist whenever my friends try to bring bliss in my life,
Which is something the most I miss?
I know I'm upto no use, I cannot do anything sane,
Still, I want that I should never utter any phrases profane.
It hurts others and later it wounds me the most,
When I realize how much I could worsen the conditions.
It mocks my friends who hold my hand and confidentally boast-
That I'm the one who will help his friends in all situations.
Everytime I break the trust which is put upon me with confidence,
It is regularly that I spit my all frustration in the form of defiance.
I don't blame my friends if they come and slap my ego,
Because I know it's I who has caused the wind to push the first domino.

I just want to say that I'm sorry, yet again.
Forgive me for all those things which fetched you pain.
I am like this, mad & weird, I am upto no good,
I am not worth your tears; I'm not worth your anger.
It's sad for me that my every initiative comes to an end.
Please, you move ahead leaving me here,
Because when I see you trust, your love, your selflessness,
Everyday I realize, I'm not worth being anyone's friend…

I Try, I Fail

I try, I fail.
I toiled hard to become a better person,
I was on the verge of attracting all happiness,
All for myself, but I couldn’t.
Joy changed it’s direction as soon as it saw me,
When I held a glass for collecting the glee.

I try, I fail,
Whenever I stand under the boisterous clouds,
In the hope that they would spell some showers.
I am so mistaken.
The patch I am on is a desert.
And so are my little innocuous dreams,
Dry and infertile, unable to grow into green saplings.

I try, I fail,
Everytime I want to wear my own skin.
But when I was rejected by my kin,
I collapsed into this world full of sins.
There was no perforation in the azure sky,
Through which some sunlight could escape,
And fill light in my unspecial life, draped
In the stubs of meaningless verses.
Everything around brought me obscene curses.

I try, I fail,

Whenever I wish to paint my love.
I thought of holding her hand forever,
But when she came to me by herself,
The circumstances prohibited me
To reach to her heart.
She looked amazed and her eyes were left to dart,
My response in this wordly world
Where I had no belongings.
Today, my rhythmic heart cannot sing.
Today, my hopes have got no wings.

Whenever I try, I fail.
I’m standing infront of the mirror of life.
Where’s my reflection?
I just see layers of mist over it,
When I try to look into it.
My existence is not specified,
My eyes have already cried,
When someone tried to erase my present.
A friend said few words, though hesitant,
I was discouraged.

I try, I fail,
In the pursuit of becoming a jovial man,
And rise up from this satanic world.
Conditions around force me to realize,
I’m different but not special.
I’ve got mettle but I’m not presentable.
I’ve smiles but I’m not cheerful.
I have a complex simplicity.
All this confuses me today,
I ask myself,
Even if I try, not to be pale,
Why do I always fail?

Friendship

Those days have gone when I had no one to wipe my tears of failure,
Which I had shed when everyone forced me to adopt the bitterst discomfiture.
Those days have gone when I had no support to hold whenever I trembled on the path of life,
Which was due to the hatred of every mortal around me who tried to stab me with a sharp knife.

I never found an aid which could relieve the tanned flesh of my uncared wounds,
I had never felt any sensation that could comfort my soul or allow some roses to bloom –
In the graveyard of my dead hopes, with love and some water of divine affection,
And also smoothen the pace of my heart beats and lubricate my life affected by friction.

Today, I breathed a different feeling, a different tingle of comfort soothed me,
When I found that there are some people who, in every condition, would love me.
I could see love brimming up in their eyes when I thanked them for giving me a company,
They were the ones, who came like a storm in my life and filled it with the most charming harmony.

I was always surrounded by the pool of broken glass that tried to hurt my happiness,
I found no one who could change them into some little mirrors that focused all joy towards me.
But, today, I’ve found friends who will be forever with me to fill colours in my dull life,
And surely behave as those mirrors always trying to reflect towards me the most blissful glee.

Today I can say that I’ve got everything in my life and I don’t need anything more,
Friendship is perhaps the best thing created by nature to explore.
It has all ability to heal even the gangrene of loneliness that cannot be easily cured,
And the essence of comfort and the beauty of affection that can be allured.

Friendship is the best gift one can recieve from the sweet Lord,
It can give you all strength to make the horizons of your dreams broad.
I feel so ecstatic to finally find myself wrapped in the most pretty virtue of frindship,
Which is indeed the most special gift I recieved after years of my regular worship.

I love my friends, especially Aishwarya, Apoorv, Smriti, Aashima and Samarth!! You gave me life guys. I live for you. Thanks for everything! I may not be able to repay the love you gifted me. I'm just glad to know you all. I feel the luckiest person on the planet at the moment! :)

Hope

That morning a dead flower sprouted up again into an epitome of beauty,

It regained its colour, unfolded its petals and sent forth a sweet fragrance.

It breathed again and shimmered happiness when it danced with the air,

And naughtily displayed how important was the feel of existence.

The flower reflected the joy shamelessly of winding itself again into the threads of life.

This spark disturbed my eyes when I passed by it sadly after losing another strife.

But the flash of happiness was so effective that it healed the pain which I hid in my heart,

And after watching it for mere few seconds, I forgot that the life I lead was so hard.

I had seen that flower before also, trampled and broken,

But that day I was shocked to see its petals beautifully opened.

It was a sunflower which lived by the sight of the sun,

The sun's heat gave it comfort and during night, all its life it used to shun.

I was amazed to realize that during the happy time, the flower looked bright,

And it closed its petals with the arrival of sad time which, for it, was night.

It allowed only happiness to approach it and reflected that feel in a soothing way,

It always restrained from hugging pain which came after the end of the sunny day.

I felt bemused after I pondered over the conclusion which my thoughts had made,

All that feeling of refusal and anguish stuffed tightly inside me started to fade.

I felt that I only allowed tears to fill my eyes and pain to wound my scratched skin,

I never tried to look beyond suffering and realize that enormous joy even I could win.

The fault lay in me as I never saw those speckles which covered most of my body,

I only wished to find mistakes and blots in the ones who looked different or gaudy.

In this way, I attracted dejection towards myself from all the corners around me,

My behavior was responsible for the pain I endured which no one would ever like to feel.

That sunflower watered those seeds of hope in me which had unwillingly fallen into a sleep,

Its magical water sprouted a life in them who woke up happily and came out from the deep.

I was flavoured by the new aroma of hope which wanted to live forever with me,

It wiped away my tears and dissatisfaction and now all the colours of this world I could see.

I could see the butterflies hovering above me along with those thousand smiling flowers,

And also many birds chirping including that woodpecker striking the tree creating deep scars.

I felt relieved when the cool breeze struck me with infinite love and affection,

Almost immediately I found that I'm becoming unadulterated by the removal of my exasperation.

I plucked that sunflower and few others and kissed it with acceptance,

I decided to gift it to the one who rejected me as I lacked flamboyance.

I was sure that for the first time I was ready to start my life all over again,

And by giving her the token of my affection, I would forget that once I was wane.

I discovered a new person within me, who could see beyond the horizon,

He was the one who would never accept any suffering or express himself with hesitation.

That man had taken birth within me, who had the ability to toss the bad days,

And always find hope in every bad situation that tried to harm him by extending its sway.

I had become the man of determined dreams.

I had become the man unaffected by gleams.

I had become the man having the heat of hundred stars,

I had become the man having healed scars.

It was all because of that sunflower, which looked directly into my eye and saw my heart,

Which said that she rejected me only because she wanted that I should improve for better.

I'm glad I overcame the situation, under which my life had become so hard,

Today, what I can see in front of me is she, her love and my hope which beautifully glitters.