Being Watched

Cupping my face in my own palms,
Listening my sighs passing in and out,
Drawing and drying salted cheek lines,
Hiding behind door in a dark solely world.

Suddenly feel I, two eyes fixed on me,
No one else in, I might be dreaming,
No later than I shut eyelids and feel,
Two eyes looking wordlessly at me.

The one who is miles away so much far
Felt was here a moment ago with me,
From that night; every night every day,
I feel, by someone, every instant being watched.

Walk in streets, I, and no one around,
Silence of loneliness and tip tap sound,
A brainful thoughts and my hot sighs,
Looking at me, those two hidden eyes.

Wherever I go, whomever I meet,
Those eyes see and know everything,
Whenever I sleep, whatever I think,
Those eyes read and know everything,
Never say anything, those silent eyes,
I feel on me, two questioning eyes.

Eyes Speak Language of Love

Eyes... the best gift by God so that we can see things. But eyes are much more than just eyes. Eyes are reflection of human feelings, a mirror of imagery of emotions. Imagine... when you see something scary isn't that fear clearly visible in your eyes? When your beloved looks at you and smile and you come to know what she is trying to say. Then you reply in the same manner with your twinkling eyes contained with lots of love,"I love you too." Wow! Eyes are not just eyes. They are amazing.

I walk on street a bit in haste, so that I manage to get in office on time and my fat boss does not teach me those boaring lessons which I already have listened hundreds of times. How he was always punctual at his work when he was of my age. What the hell I am supposed to do if he had plenty of free time when he was twenty one. I almost run lost in these thoughts until a poor street boy distracts my broad day dreaming when he comes across my way. Wrapped in rags, his neck black because of not bathing since ages. I stop and try to alter my way and it is when he peeps through his eyes straight into my eyes. There was an appeal that entered into my soul from the door of my eyes. He utters not a single word. My feet jam, I could not walk a single step. His eyes were demanding. They were saying something to me. Yes, they were saying,"I am hungry." Mighty impact of speaking eyes!

Remember so well I still, magical game of eyes when I saw her first time. In my new coaching class she was standing with her friends, her hair floating in the air which she was trying to collect and wind would scatter them on her face again. I still remember that laughing face and more than that those two most beautiful laughing eyes. I was staring her until she noticed me. She noticed someone is gazing her. She looked at me. Ah! I can die for that look. Such a pair of beautiful eyes I never saw before in my life. Those dark brown eyes. She looked at me as if trying to say why you are staring me but the very next moment she pulled her eyes off me and left.

The game of eyes is very interesting. When you are not looking at her she will make sure no one else is observing her and will look at you with stealing eyes but her head will still stay down pretending that her entire attention is in the book in her hands. As soon you feel someone's eyes upon you and raise your eyes up at her she will step into your heart, just for a fraction of second, by looking straight into your eyes and her cheeks would turn apple red and she would bow her eyes in shyness. She will pretend that she looking something else and mistakingly she happened to stop at you and this hide-seek game will bring a smile on your lips.

Eyes know the person whose you do not even know the name. They can find that person in crowd of millions faster than Google. Tears are another way of eyes to speak. When they are so much overpowered with a strong feeling, they flow down cheeks. Happy moments, sad moments, friendship moments, miss you moments, love you moments or don't go moments, all are expressed in special language of eyes. When words end, eyes become your words. When you are silent and your lips do not talk, your eyes communicate. They says eyes never speak. They say it right. Eyes are book of heart. So pure and innocent. Telling you how much someone loves you. Mirror of all sentiments. Fear, amour, anger, grief, care and everything which is made to feel. The best things you can do is to make two eyes cry for happiness and the best thing you can gift someone is to donate your eyes.

Eyes, I say again in the end, are not just eyes.

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Rain, Candles, We

Raining to empty entire black thick on sky,
Blowing too hard to spare any window glass,
Shut the storm out, try searching sight of thy.
Lit up two candles, never wish night to pass,
Both kill dark, standing burning on,
Like fire of desire in hearts; going on and on.

Eagerness grows up, difficult becomes to wait,
Enwrapped in pink bed sheet, in blood and flesh
Wink at me mischievously, Alas! My fate.
Disappear magnificence. Wishes craving to embrace.

I want her, my her seeking-and-hiding,
I call her name, she pacing and gliding.
Standing smiling behind study’s oak table,
Playing with my vision like fairy of fable.

Caught on staircase , the lady in the pink,
Surrender her to me, imprisoned in grip,
Pinned to the wall, allowed to slip her pink
Neither heard drizzling nor stormy wind-trip.

Talking we in whispers, Locked our eyelids,
Automated by magic driven by hundred cupids
Palms talking to palms, lips meeting with lips,
Knocks on your cheeks, my breathing slips.

Wind keeps hammering,
Candles keep burning,
Rain keeps pouring,
We keep melting…

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Daddy You!

Placing my signature with my Montegrappa
While writing a cheque to my expensive son,
Nostalgia and a travel fourty years back when I
Always gave my best to fill little piggy bank.
Still I remember it was shaped in smiling pink swine,
A narrow slit on its head so that every day,
I can stuff its stomach and rejoice and count.

How I used to count those glittering coins,
Before I would send them to safest place,
And mark one dot for every tens;
Dots those filled pages of my hand made diary.
My childhood, I know was not luxurious as my son has,
And I had to skip Costly Strawberries
So that my tiny piggy does not sleep hungry,
I would not eat those toffees and save;
And save pennies to hide in womb.

World of the piggy, trust me so mysterious,
I would pick it and guess weight inside,
And would shake it to listen the sound,
Heavier the sound; more coins gobbled,
And a curios smile would increase my eyes.
Counting on fingers counting days and dots,
I flipped through pages of tiny diary
Thirty one… thirty two… and a two bucks coin
Three hundred thirty two and I open
The chamber of secret - mysterious I told,
Trust me a complete three four nine.


“Was it God who always multiplied?”
Those faces of heads and tales or perhaps
My wooden trunk was blessed with some magic
No I can’t be wrong in marking dots nor at maths
In which I always excelled entire class
My childhood spent asking how God! How
How it happens?
And now when I am father of a son,
I murmur to myself,”Oh, daddy you!”