A Secret Carved in Stone

Circa 500 BC.
It was his secret.
She was his secret,
That, in his heart, he hid.

He’d spend the mornings
Gazing at the skies
All the time, imagining
Her in the clouds passing by.

At night, he’d look for her
In the twinkling stars.
They were like her eyes
That beckoned him from afar.

At times, he sat by the river
And, in the sand, drew her silhouette –
The curves that defined her,
Her rose-petal like lips,

Her slender neck,
And her voluptuous body.
Yes, he was addicted
To someone imaginary.

Then, one day, he wished.
Wished she was alive.
So, with a stone and chisel,
He started bringing her to life.

He toiled for days
In a secluded place.
Creating her delicate features,
He etched her beauty and grace.

And it was his secret for life.
She was his secret.
He hid her from all the prying eyes
And never let anyone in on it.

The year is 2025 AD.
The archeologist was excited.
His team had just unearthed
A stone statue at the digging site.

A beauty beyond compare,
Carved with exquisite detail
From the strands of her hair
To her feet adorned with anklets.

With all the dirt cleaned,
She looked radiant.
It was his greatest finding –
A feminine form in stone so brilliant.

Soon, she was in a glass display
In the “Civilization” section
In the Museum of Art and History
Labeled “Goddess in Stone – Ancient.”

The Three Brothers

Once upon a long time ago,
In a village far, far away,
There lived three brothers –
Needy, Greedy, and Wisey.

One day, as they walked
In a forest deep and dark,
They found a dusty lamp,
And, then, a genie appeared.

“O Masters!” Said the genie.
“Your will is my command!
To all of you three wishes
With my magic, I can grant.”

Needy was the first to go.
He wished to be wealthy.
So, anything he would touch
Should turn to gold instantly.

“So be it!” Boomed the genie.
And Needy’s wish came true.
He clapped his hands excitedly
And… became a golden statue!

Now, Greedy said he’d go next
He wanted the ultimate power.
So, he wished to be like a wizard
Who would wall up tomorrow.

“So be it!” The genie spoke,
And Greedy’s wish he fulfilled.
He turned him into an ugly toad
And cast him in a deep well.

Now, Wisey observed all this
And realized the turn was his.
He used the third wish to release
His brothers from their curses.

“So be it!” The genie roared,
And he granted Wisey’s wish.
He and the lamp then vanished
In the darkness of the forest.

The brothers were reunited!
It was like they’d been reborn!
They praised and thanked Wisey
For his selfless act of wisdom.

As this story ends, my friends,
I hope you, too, can decide –
When Life grants you anything,
It always helps to be wise.

A Love Story

Theirs was a match made in Heaven
… And on Earth.
Her effervescence
Perfectly complemented his calmness.

Love was but natural,
As deep as the still waters of a lake in the morning.
It was more than just physical.
It existed in everything.

She loved flowers.
He loved watching her braid them in her hair.
He loved his morning coffee and newspaper.
She loved hearing his views on making the world better.

She’d laugh like a gurgling river.
He loved it when she did.
He’d hum songs from the yesteryears.
She loved it when he did.

Even their moments of disagreement
Deepened their affection,
Like a special condiment
That added a flavor to their connection.

They were the kind of lovers
Who actually lived their wedding vows.
Each year saw them together.
Each year saw their love grow.

But, then, there came a wretched phase
When an ill wind did blow.
It took her away in its grasp
Leaving him pining and alone.

Now, in the autumn of his life,
He yearns to be by her side.
At times, a tear rolls down his eyes
As he searches for her footprints in the void.

The Language of Love

Golden sunflowers
Turn toward the skies at dawn.
If this isn’t love, what is?

Raindrops from clouds
Kiss the earth as they fall down.
If this isn’t love, what is?

White-crested oceans
Embrace rivers with open arms.
If this isn’t love, what is?

Silent Summer zephyrs
Carry with them sweet birdsongs.
If this isn’t love, what is?

Leaves in Autumn
Relinquish their space to new ones.
If this isn’t love, what is?

Silvery moonbeams
Shine their light on everything.
If this isn’t love, what is?

It would seem that love
Converses not in sentences or words.

It is the language of the heart and soul,
And to be fluent, one only needs to love in return.

The Edge of the Unknown

The edge of the unknown
Is a mythical milestone.

A toddler standing for the first time
Is at the edge of the unknown
Till he takes the first step.

A woman who is pregnant
Is at the edge of the unknown
Till she holds her child in her hands.

A girl getting married
Is at the edge of the unknown
Till she becomes a part of her new family.

A child going to school
Is at the edge of the unknown
Till he reads the first letter in his book.

Every hour, every minute, every second
Leads us to the edge of the unknown.

But it’s the decision to take that first step
That enlightens the mind with knowledge.

And the edge of the unknown
Disappears with the expanding horizon.

The Zero

Yes, there are countless numbers
That exist in this vast Universe.
Some are sought for bank balances,
And some for rankings and scores.

But the number that I like the most
Is that which is nothingness – a zero.
Now you may think it foolish, almost
Imbecilic, ludicrous, and absurd.

But listen carefully when I say
It has more value than anything else.
On the face of it, it might look worthless,
But it’s a point from where to commence.

It holds innumerable possibilities
For the end, and also, the beginning.
The entire Universe was born from it.
In a zero, there’s space for everything.

Its emptiness is extremely powerful
And, you’d agree when I say so –
A true student is one who lets go,
For enlightenment is in the state of zero.

The Armageddon

The threads of memories
In myriad vibrant hues and shades
Create beautiful tapestries.

Or so, you’d think.
Sometimes, these tapestries
Turn into something different.

Threads wind around one another
Forming tight and gnarly knots,
Color over color replacing each color.

The mind struggles to make sense
Of the changing memoryscapes.
Faces once familiar now seem strange.

The constant tugging and pulling
Leads to the strings snapping.
This is a war in which everyone’s losing.

The tapestry tattered,
Some threads lie scattered.
Precious images are forever shattered.

Like a withering autumn leaf,
Battered by the elements, on the tree,
One by one, the memories leave.

Nothing overcomes the inertia.
A blank space forms like an empty shell
In the armageddon of dementia.

The Field of Fireflies

Being with you is like
Running through a field of fireflies
Under the purple skies of twilight.

Tiny flashes, in the air, rise
Creating a show of sparkly designs
Like the stars shining in your eyes.

Glows pulse through the night
Relaying messages in a code divine
As you hold my hand and smile.

That moment etches in my mind,
And in that moment, I realize
I’m the night and you, my firefly.

Forever together, our fates entwine
As we make memories of love and light
In the shimmering field of fireflies.

Symphony of the Stars

Darkness falls.
And everywhere, creatures of the day
Settle down to sleep in their beds.

And yet, Night calls.
The cloudy grey curtains, She parts,
To present the symphony of the stars.

The heart falls
As love rises to a melodious crescendo
Orchestrated by each twinkle and glow.

And, the sky calls.
It beckons and tugs every moving thing
To dance with the starlight and sing.

The song falls
On the ears of those who seek to listen,
Its tunes woven into dreams that glisten.

My soul calls.
It replies in affirmation to the invite,
Revelling in the symphony of stars at night.

O Stomach!

O stomach! The things I do for you
Couldn’t be any more stranger, too!

There’s no moment in the day
When I don’t heed what you say.
I give you ice cream, chocolates,
And puddings piled up in plates.

But you say these do not suffice,
So, I eat muffins, cakes, and pies,
Lemon tarts and cheesecakes,
Pancakes and bowls of souffles.

You then rumble and ask for more,
And I eat candies by the score,
Almond cookies and sweet buns,
And yet, you yell you aren’t done!

You want slices of bread and jam,
Custard with jelly and baked flan,
Sweet milkshakes with berries,
Caramelized and sugary toffees.

I just keep gobbling and gobbling
Till there’s no space left for filling.
Brownies, doughnuts, and fudge-
I chomp them all without a fuss!

And now tell me, why do you spasm
After I’ve filled your abysmal chasm?
I have to eat bland food that’s boiled
And spoon upon spoon of castor oil!

O stomach! The things I do for you
Couldn’t be any more stranger, too!

Confessions of an Insomniac

Silently, the day takes flight.
Across the dark sky, the Moon glides.
Through the curtains, a ray of light
Makes a shape on the wall as it slides.

Silently, I lie awake
Waiting and waiting for sleep to overtake,
But like a falling snowflake,
With a fleeting touch, it does forsake.

Silently, I remember
Lullabies that drew me into slumber.
Your voice that only in memories I hear
Is lost now in the autumnal zephyr.

Your gentle song guided me
As I voyaged to the realm of sleep.
Each night, it was the keeper of my dream
And a sign of your love for me so deep.

I long to hear that cradle song!
To sleep ensconced in its warmth!
But, the silence stays with me till dawn
With a sleeplessness that feels so wrong.

Happy Diwali

I wish you a day

As bright
As the diyas you light.

As full of color
As the rangoli on the floor.

As sweet
As the laddoo and karanji.

As savoury
As the sev and chakli.

As crispy
As the batasha and khili.

As sparkly
As the anaar and phooljhadi.

As lit up
As the chakri and rocket.

As shimmery
As your golden jewelry.

As gorgeous
As you in your new dress.

As tender
As the moments spent together.

As holy
As the temple bells and aarti.

As auspicious
As Lord Ram’s return to Ayodhya.

As powerful
As the Good that overcomes Evil.

I wish you a very happy Diwali!