Children of the Sky

There is a child inside every one of you. You just cannot forget the one you were when you used to suck your thumb to find peace, when every new clothing was welcomed with pee, when world peace rested in your mother's arms. Those days may have gone, but you haven't. A part of you still subconsciously wants those wonderful days to return, wants you to age back, wants you to grow down. Your conscious busy overloaded overworked spaceless remorseless mind may put that thought to a halt, but somewhere within yourself you know it very well that given a Time machine the first place where you'd go is your childhood.

And look at where the world has come to now. Gone are the days when the biggest known fight was the one with the local bully over your new cycle, these men have grown up, they behead their enemies in public view now. Gone are the days when you could write whatever you wish in your exams with the only fear being the report card, the report cards have grown up now, they hack bloggers in public view if they don't like what's written by them. Gone are the days when vacations were spent in front of a TV and a video game, these games have grown up now, they bomb your cities with drones and in this game you don't have consoles but Guns, and the harshest reality of this game is that it doesn't come with multiple lives.

"World.. Hold on, Cmon
Everybody in the universe,
World.. Hold on...
One Day you will have to answer
to the children of the sky"

And look at where you have come to now. Gone are the days when you used to cry till you were given the Toy you wanted, the days when the strongest person was the father and the meanest person the brother. The essence of the world now lies in the fact that every moment is a conflict of the child in you with Time, a conflict that the child is losing and you are slowly becoming the devil that was once hidden under the bed. Why else do we turn a blind eye to the random man who fell off his bike in the middle of the road? Why else is understanding Injustice so difficult? why else is the only solution found in the Gun? and finally, Why else do we forget that regardless of where we are from, regardless of the color of the skin or the color of the cap, we are all children of the sky.

In a world where one is known by the God he follows I too am a follower of God, not the one you seek in Temples or Churches or Mosques, but the one who is most ignored, the one god that is so unprivileged that no one even gave him a religion, the one, and probably the only God, the whole world has so easily forgot. I am a follower of the God that lives right next to the child in you, the God that lives in your Mind. The only place where you can grow down, where all violence is futile, where consoles are consoles and report cards are just report cards, the only place in the world where one seeks to have Peace. It is here the greatest battles are decided, the greatest ideas created, the finest methods devised, and this is where your answer lies. The world may have religions, treaties, tariffs, Organizations, Guns, Bombs and Preachers, but in here there is just You. The Mind is that nursery where even your enemy is just a thought away from friendship. Forget the war of the worlds, the war within you that the world rages with your inner child, that is where it needs to end, that is where you need to fight, and that is perhaps the only place where victory matters. Let that child in you live, not because the world deserves forgiveness but because you deserve Peace.
Till then...
"World Hold On...Cmon
Everybody in the universe,
World Hold On...."

Beggerly Hills...

I am not Wind,
I am not Fire,
I am that man
no one's desire.

I am not cool,
I am not hot,
I am that guy
seldom your thought.

I am not geek,
i am not tall,
i am that fool
you'd never call.

i am not loud,
i am not glad,
i am that corner,
which is always sad.

I wish no bad,
for i am no fad
and yet when you saw my ugly face
i am that brother you never had.

i will not know,
for my mind is dead,
as long as life i know is there
i have not sweet I'll have no bread


oh God you see
how far i am
from the man you made
not one I am,
and yet i live on your handmade land
I see not you in a single man.

they see me here, they come to me
look at my face all sad no glee
they throw a coin then at my face
oh coin, poor you, you cannot flee.

they're rich they are with cars and bags
in a heap of filth I lie with rags,
and yet sadly they know inside
their blood is red, and so is mine.

with a coin they flip their kindness off
with no remorse they just walk off
as if i care, as if i were
about to ask them to see off.

In peace I die, not fun or fair
like a rich man dead I lay on flare
and yet here you've made that divide
i die all lone, not a tear to spare


Oh God you see i lie here bare
with not one soul who could just care
they say you live in them as well,
and yet how come I am like this
they call me a beggar, their words I wear.
they call me a beggar, their words I wear.

Je Suis Charlie. Je Suis Alive.

I saw two men. Their faces hidden, their arms swollen. Had guns in their hand, and a chant on their lips, and they were walking towards me in black. In their eyes i saw fear, but in mine they saw religion. They didn't ask me my name. They didn't look around for anyone. They came here with no eyes, for all they saw were infidels, and in their eyes was me.

The last I remember is a cold barrel that was held on my forehead. A finger filled with perspiration touching the trigger, a breath full of regret hitting my eyebrows and the last drop of tear that fell off my chin. I know he saw that drop on the floor, I know his mind must have recorded it, I know his insides felt a cramp as that innocent drop of teary water felt the saddened floor with utmost peace, I know his eyes had seen it all. And yet I don't care what his name was, I don't care where he came from, for the next to fall was me.

There was mercy in his heart, for he wanted to escape. There was chaos in his hands for his shots went haywire. He wanted to kill, but his legs wanted to run away. His lips repeated a name he was trained. Behind every word, he thought, he was reaching closer to his God. But not anymore, for his bullets were real and his God has seen it all. One on the head, one on the hand, one for the little guy who could barely stand. Like a nursery rhyme he shot them all word by word, line by line as if blood was his food and life was his wine. But for every bullet he fired, his trembling fingers had said it all that his mind was dead and to the devil he'd sold his soul. And yet I don't care who he was, I don't care where his God was, for his bullets had then found me.

There is no music in what had just happened, but many heartbeats in there were their last. With every heart that stopped, stopped millions of thoughts that could bring that change to the world. For all those millions around the world who wait for a miracle, that one thought was their last hope. There were no guitars in there, but in there died many strings that held families together. With every string that broke in there, ended a stream of notes that could bring joy to those saddened ears and minds who looked at others with a smile and with a pain filled regret, imagined themselves. There was no voice in there, for all they had were words of a handler who didn't even dare to face the world. I don't care who asked him to, I don't care which song it was, there was no tune in there, for the next to end was me.

In a blink that bullet went through me, In a moment it erased my existence, In a second my life was over, for in the time my lungs could breathe my last, my life was a part of  the past. It feels sad that all my life I had so many goals, so many targets, not many foes and in a blink of an eye I was reduced to a memory. But I don't care who I was, nor do i care who he was, for every Me that was shot in there, Millions today stand for me. I may be dead, I may be gone, but for once I know, be it Charlie, be it Ram, let it known to the dear killer of mine, no matter how many bullets he try, no matter how many children in line, Je Suis Charlie and I will stay alive.

For Kin and Country

dedicated to the never ending flame that lights the Amar Jawan...

For Kin & Country

Walking through the woods at night
While mothers sleep away alright,
An ambush is setup for us,
I am that son, I refuse to die.

We were five, my brothers & I,
Wore uniforms, held ourselves high,
Their bullets pierced along my arms
I am that son, I refuse to die.

We took our guard, my brothers & I
Trees around heard all our cry,
We ran towards one that was high
I am that son, I refuse to die.

The night was dark, all black n gray,
the air was chill, as cold as hay,
When a silent bush blew up so close
I am that son, I refuse to die.

In that light I saw at once,
The face of a man and gun at once
So fierce with a look let bullets he fly
I am that son, I refuse to die.

I ducked, I crawled, I slept on it all,
Let thorns thru my chest yet arms were strong,
I am a soldier, I heave no sigh,
I am that son, I refuse to die.

With all our strength my men & I,
Fired back each round, our guns held high
when one by one we killed them all
I am that son, I refuse to die.

They ran away with all their ride
When long at once I heard them cry
My men were back to kick their arse
I am that son, I refuse to die.

The Army came to save us now,
was then I saw, oh holy cow,
An air vent hole right through my chest
I am that son, I refuse to die.

We killed them all, my men & I,
Played with death and not with dye,
God so much blood I have on me
I am a son, I refuse to die.

I cannot lose any more hope
For hope is what I always have,
For all my mother and my land,
I am a son, I refuse to die.

As doctors clench my arm to help
I find within their eyes a cry
I can afford a smile right now,
For once, I know I have to die.

Let mother know my life's book
For life is what she cannot cook.

Go tell her living mind in all

her son was well, he will not fall.

My country has a soul all know,

in peace and war wont stand too low, 

For every Me that dies tonight

A million more will rise to fight.

A million more will rise to fight.

Farther in Law

Dedicated to a father whose daughter I got married to: My feet wobbling, my blood boiling, A part of me was born again, my sweet lil girl, my darling. she'd eyes of her mother, a cheek which was flatter, A part of me was born again for all I know I was her Father she grew up in front of my eyes, not tall at all yet high Fives, today I look beneath myself, for all I know Time just flies. I did not know who I am I hadn't felt it so clear, for all I know within myself, I am her Dad, she's my fear. I wasn't much a talker, wasn't much a hawker, for my love was too deep, God I am her Father. I asked myself If she knows, that my love for her was beyond all woes, I lied to myself, but my eyes couldn't lie, she knows. she walked out in that wedding dress today, as I looked at her all day, tears rolled down on their own for all I know I'd nothing to say. I did not know who I am I hadn't felt it so clear, for all I know within myself, I am her Dad, she's my fear. I fought with her loud and clear, but beneath my cover she was my dear, today as she walked into that stage, I stood there gripping all my fear. In her happiness I had fold myself, In her joy I had forgotten my self, today right here she's going away, and here I am staring at that empty shelf. Today I know who I am I never knew so clear, for all I knew within myself, I am her Dad, to hell with fear.

The Hidden Tooth

My little nephew, barely 18 month old was playing around my sofa, trying to slurp his hidden tooth, when his ever thirsty sight inadvertently fell on the elusive TV Remote. In a matter of seconds, that TV remote was all he wanted. It looked as if a Lokmanya Tilak had awakened inside him  for he was moving as if repeating, "The Remote is my Birthright...and I shall have it". Like an unstoppable cloud he kept on trying to move around me to reach that remote, trying everything in his limit to get around the seemingly gigantic Mount Everest that stood in front him. Even his primary weapon, "The Stare of Innocence", failed to work as I was determined not to let this poor defenseless unarmed TV remote be mercilessly tortured and have itself dismembered and dragged around before being thrown into a Lake of Pee. 18 months, and that little boy was already an expert at warfare - He called in his allies with his SOS (which is a monotonous signal which any ally could Comprehend-Respond-You, also called C.R.Y): He freaking cried. I had lost. His allies pounded me with their brutal assault. Within moments, the Mount Everest had collapsed, within seconds the cries silenced and within minutes the Remote was in The Lake of Pee.

The whole evening we (including the little boy, his allies, and me) were forced to watch a frivolously shouting and aimlessly blabbering Arnab Goswami who was repeating "MrSanjayJhaMrSanjayJhaMrSanjayJha " (yes, No Spaces) and Mr Sanjay Jha repeating "ArnabArnab Arnab" endlessly as if they were both being paid to say the other person's name. Never mind. We all deserve this. We've all tortured Mother Nature and its Environment so bad, it was bound to throw back at us at least one Arnab Goswami and one Sanjay Jha. The only person, however, who was enjoying that sight with his full-hearted and selfless egoless and  interestingly breakless laugh was also the reason we weren't able to change the channel. In 18 months, the little boy trying to slurp his hidden tooth had changed that so called super-prime-time-firing-debate into Tellytubbies.

I had no choice but to awaken the Engineer in me. Yes, that was perhaps the only time I got to show off my engineering skills. Before you imagine anything..No, I didn't repair that TV Remote. I rushed to the cablewala and bought a new remote. Exactly what Engineering had taught me, "When the going gets tough...buy a new car" (RTMNU - By Rashtrasant Tukdoji Maharaj, Vol 3 Verse 3:16). I returned to a champion welcome, took all the accolades, gave an angry stare to that hidden tooth boy, and walked like Jason Statham. I soon realized that Jason Statham generally walks like that when some new car is about to blow up behind him. The new car did blow up. I, the Engineer, the Champion Engineer, the Opportunist, the perfectionist, had forgot to buy batteries. I tried to use the old ones and what followed was exactly the kind of an Engineer I was...A mix of Arnab Goswami, Arvind Kejriwal and Pikachu: All words, no show, and yellow.

My last attempt somehow helped me go ahead by one channel. So now were all watching BBC. And what that channel showed, moved me. I, with an 18 month old baby on my lap, was watching young injured barely 18 month old babies and kids being carried away by their wailing fathers in Gaza. There was no noise in those images and yet they were a blow to my mind. There was no shrapnel in that video and yet it had pierced through my heart. I was staring at a child, as old as the one on my lap, being faced with an assault of the most brutal kind. For a kid so small, there is no country, no policy and no religion. For a kid so small, there is never an Arnab Goswami or Sanjay Jha, no ceasefire nor treaty. For a child so small, there is no war. His only weapon is his innocence, and his only bullet is his stare.

Within moments, we were all staring at the sheer luck that we were on the other side of the Mount Everest but one which could collapse any moment. Within moments we were all staring at the sheer helplessness of Engineers like me in trying to stop real cars from blowing up in real markets. While we all were staring at the harshest form of reality that BBC showed....within moments it was all over...I had Lost again...for within moments the new remote was in The Lake of Pee.

Absolutely Untitled..

I need to find time to write, to dance around, to sing loud, to laugh, to enjoy. But what I've realized over time is I need to find time to live. They say that work is what makes a kid a man. I find it difficult to believe that a man is born at the cost of the kid. I enjoy being the kid, for it is the kid in me that keeps me the way I am. It is the kid in me that laughs out loud, sings and dances around, enjoys. In this absolutely untitled world, It is this kid that keeps me alive, for I am that untitled kid.

They all say that you need to do something you've always wanted to, something you enjoy, something you love most, something that you are passionate about. And here I am, the idiot that I am, finding it difficult to understand the difference. All this time I've been on an unknown pursuit of the work that amazes me most, the work that-as they say-I am passionate about. And although I have traveled pretty far, I'm yet to find that one thing for at the end of all tunnels I find myself standing perplexed yet undisturbed. I find my own reflection which eerily stares at my face with peaceful eyes and even without uttering a word it erases all that's written in my mind -word by word.

I have no idea where this journey is taking me, nor do I know in which direction. But it is this very journey that has given me a pearl-like family, gold-like happiness, and diamond-like friends. It is this journey that has made me fall in love with these wild yet cricket crazy streets, with these nagging yet peaceful neighbors, with these crazy yet innocent kids. In this journey I may be alone, but who cares, I live in a world filled with worries, with ego, with jealousy, and with filthy politics. Who'd want partners when you know it is all walking slowly towards doom. Amidst all these worries, it is this journey that has given me my wings. I can fly over all this and still be me. These wings are mine, and this is what powers me through time.

I have grown up now. There's plenty of work. And today as I happened to hold my little kid nephew in my arms I saw what this journey was telling me all the while. In a far mirror was the end of the tunnel, I was an image of chaos while the kid in my arms was looking at my eyes-perplexed yet undisturbed. I was looking at the mirror and it was the kid who was eerily staring at my face with peaceful eyes and without uttering a single word he erased all the chaos that was written in my mind - word by word. And with a smile he'd said it all, that it was the kid in me that I always wanted to be, it was being that kid that I enjoyed most. Amidst all worries, I want to be the kid in me. To hell with the world, to hell with the man that is born at the cost of the kid, I am and will always be a kid inside, to hell with this absolutely untitled world ....for I am that Untitled Kid.