there are birds that do not fly
thieves that do not steal
liars that preach truth
believers that do not kneel
there are songs that carry no words
no music, no beats and no rhythm
songs that carry silence
taking a knee equivalent to violence
oppressors masquerading as victims
priests that commit sin
there are a million women with million incidents
unheard, untold and unseen
of abusers among us moving around, partying, grinning and winning
there are politicians that are too insecure of their competency
so they use money and power to keep those that are better than them below them
there are gangsters that do not grin
there are murderers that move slow
beggars that flaunt luxury
a woman’s smile that holds a mystery
this life is a sworn secrecy
a pact, a treaty, an agreement
to not tell the whole story and keep the reality away from ears
and maybe we will forget about each other after a few years
we are breathing in on our fears
drinking our tears
suffocating on the smoke of the reality
smoking away our lives
one drag at a time
feigning that we will be fine
committing crimes, attempting rhymes,
waiting for the sunshine.
on a voyage where the tides rise high
where we fly away like kites
where the horizon seems distant but is there for sure
where we take each other home
and there is no point in making them understand
as long as the one i see in the mirror
understands who i am
i am me, i am free, i am whole.
the rider in the night, the magic in the soul.
for whom the bell tolls?
it tolls for us.
there is no such thing as enough
it is a bitter sweet symphony
we are standing on the precipice of infinity
looking down at the opportunities
and now, i take the leap.
the leap of faith, unscarred, unscratched, detached
the only monk that was attached
attached to love, thoughts and songs
keeping in his satchel memories of smiles and laughter
now, departing, going home.
for there is no one left here to sing to me now
no one here to see now
the sun is going down
and i am again journey bound
leaving without a sound
a smoke on a cloud
a silence that i hope is loud
an known yet unknown shroud.
“main sabke kaam aaya par na koi mere kaam aye”
-therapy, 3:00 am, again.
मंच 