Loneliness : A Choice

When clock ticks three in the morning and a person lying in the bed widely awake with nothing on mind feels of a dark emptiness around then how lonely this heart feels is very hard to put here in words. It feels like something is missing somewhere and we try to find this missing thing within ourselves and when we fail to find source of this hollowness, a cloud of hopelessness, uncertainty and loneliness takes the place of these strange mixed feelings. In fact most of the times this loneliness is somehow outcome of our own deeds. Today I know I am feeling lonely but one barely considers what we did yesterday because of that we are so much alone. We keep think this isolation is gift that is gifted to us by others and whole life we keep blaming others; and sometimes cursing and hating too. If you feel lonely and think it is not you but someone else responsible for your situation then once ask yourself are we not equally involved in those happenings occurred? May be you are able to see or might be you are not but if you can see your contribution towards it, why not to start blaming yourself instead of putting weight of allegations on the head of someone else? I guess that is a better idea.

Now the question rises how we are the only answerable person then my friend a clap makes no sound until two palms are not hit together. Sometimes straightforwardly and sometimes indirectly; but we are always involved in behaviors which cause our fate. If still you could not understand what we are talking about exactly then here I am talking about loneliness that people most often say is because someone else has cause then most probably that person left them, things did not work between them or say there were gaps and so on; lots of things to say and problems to count. Let us come back to the topic where we were. Well, I was saying how we are included. There is a word, ‘expectations’; as long is the word itself, much more heavier is it’s meaning. We kill others under weight of this word and weight of this word kills most of the times a relation. This is exactly from where it all starts that makes a feel person abandoned. This is the basic instinct of us human we never feel satisfied. We want more then we want some more.

You keep thinking what you were demanding was allowable and the another person keeps fulfilling your wanting as long as that person thinks are allowable and then all it takes a moment to crash a world made of playing cards.

There are lots of questions which may rise and there are lots of situations when you are innocent but sometimes it is better to let it go. These are matters of sensitive and soft heart not of some analyzing egocentric brain and in the matters of heart it all becomes perfect with the divine act of forgiveness. Forgive yourself for everything you did wrong and forgive others for what they could not do appropriately. Don’t run away from things, don’t hide from loneliness. Make your isolation your strength. Give time to yourself, know yourself better. Loneliness is a choice either you live with it blaming yourself and others or conquer the darkness with luminosity of forgiveness and step into a world of illumination where you can smile from your heart without any weight of regrets on you. Loneliness or smile; choice is yours, make it.

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Birds : A Feel of Freedom

When I was small I loved watching birds. This was one of my most favorite activities. This bird watching would start at six in the morning when many dozens of grey colored wild pigeons would gather their morning meeting at my rooftop. Colored around the roof railing would turn into grey. This early morning chirp always sounded me like some musical notes. Few pigeons, I guess male ones, would turn round and round as if some singing-dancing competition was going on and winner was supposed the get the most gorgeous of the lot. Slowly… slowly… one by one all of them would open their wings and fly far away iin the sky in the hunt of grain seeds.

As sun went up higher in the sky and some heat would bring drops of sweat on foreheads, I very well remember, little sparrows would attack in our red court yard to eat grains of wheat which my mother had kept to dry in the sunlight. My teacher always told me to love animal, birds, humans and being an obedient student I never interrupted those little creatures from eating their favorite food. I would hide somewhere behind any door and watch them how neatly these birds take each seed in the beak and then swallow. Minutes and sometimes hours would pass by while I was enjoying watching this attractive food party going on in my yard. An angry voice of my mom would disrupt this gathering and all of them would fly high together in the sky with a big noise making. Sometimes I have received a good scolding from my mom for enjoying this game instead of protecting wheat from, in my mother’s tongue rascal-all-time-hungry-birds.

We children, most of them of my age, were always great hunters of nests of birds. Some of us were excellently self-trend in climbing on tress and finding secretly built hidden shelters of birdies. Most of nests were found empty and sometimes with three or four eggs. None of the case was exciting for us. We were keen only for cute looking tiny chicks. Unlike their mothers these small chicks were not covered with feather. We would find them, look at them and would feel so much love for these small wonders as if they are our own children. We were prohibited from touching them. We were told that if we will touch chicks; they would die. Now whenever I think of my childhood, the nest hunting; a smile automatically spreads on my face. How naughty and stupid we all were.
Since I know, I exist, I have seen a parrot caged in house of my uncle. His family is very fond of pt birds. And sometimes even two parrots at the same time. Specialty of those parrots is that they speak in human voice. My aunt has worked very hard in teaching them how to speak few certain words. One more strange fact about those parrots is that all of the parrots they have (or had) all were addressed with the same noun, “Patte”. Sharp, clear and loud voice of Patte,”Patte bhukhe hain.” (Patte is hungry.) attracted attention of every person in the family. Among visitors in our family Patte was a center of attraction. But in my own thinking it is sin to cage a bird and keep them within boundary of few inches for their whole life. God gifted birds with wings so that they can fly high and can feel joy of freedom.

I don’t know why we human cage such pretty gifts of God. Perhaps because we ourselves are cages in our own boundaries and somewhere inside we derive pleasure by caging others or maybe we love these natural flying machines so much that we want to live around them or maybe they kill loneliness and frustration we have in our boring busy life. Whatever the reason is, what is not right is not right. Anyway, it is thinking of each individual and it better to leave on individuals to select their choices.
Years have passed and everything has changed with the time. But I notice there number of birds around us has tremendously decreased. God knows where all the birds disappeared but I really miss watching those birds in the sky until they disappear far somewhere in the sky. Where is that feel of liberty? Sometimes, I, jailed in my flat come out in my balcony in the time of evening in hope to listen chirping noise of those old mates and what I get to see is human made aluminum birds flying in the sky from IGI Airport to far somewhere to some destination and I satisfy a child inside me by gazing at painted, big and noisy birds till they do not vanish somewhere in the sky.

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A Rant to My Selfish Heart

Good e’en, my brutal lord, evil, sure you are,
For your happiness, I thrown mine far,
For your wellness, I have died,
I attempted once to fly; was chide,
As you wilt and ordered, I followed.
You rained of tears, I swallowed.

Lord of desires, donate back my living,
Unlock my freedom, pay me for giving,
Yearn I to wear, white wings and fly,
Generosity heartless Heart, else you shalt cry.
Why dost ye expect, aspirate then wait,
Why dost ye love, feel and then hate?

Thy selfish approach suppress my wish to delight,
My feelings expire, in your feeling-fight,
Ye cause me pain because you are unpleased?
You are king of dark ergo keep me ceased?
Learn to give and forgive, and learn to forget,
Spread joy and self glee, before my lord ye regret.

About the poem: Heart, source of all pains and bad thought that can hurt a person; this poem is addressed to the selfish heart which gives lots of pains to poet because the heart itself is not happy. Poet says to heart that he has gone through all the pains and has never smiled because his heart was not happy. He, whole life, has obeyed his heart, lived according to his heart. But now he wants to live his life in natural way and here says to his heart to stop feeling so that he can lead to a life which is actually lived by feelings of the poet himself and not by feelings of someone else i.e. his heart.

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Goodbye, Dear John

“Dear John, regretfully, telling you I am sorry
Fighting you there war, my feelings go awry.”
Slipped cold M1 Carbine off from hands of John,
Unbelievingly read it thrice, in pain he looked drawn.

“I set you free John, to fight for the nation
Aching from Separations, John, I need salvation.
No home in your wait, bye, sending you your coat.”
Only five lines, was the all she wrote.

After six war-years, in nineteen forty five,
The village of the Jane, seeks an arrive.
Brown coated, unshaved, A tired soldier,
Gun pointing down, from his brave shoulder.
Six years ago she passed, ”Love, John”, did she crave.
Told villagers the story, shot his head on her grave.

Theme of the Poem: John is a an American soldier who is fighting Second World War for his country. A day he receives a letter from his girlfriend Jane telling him that she cannot take pain of separation anymore therefore she wants to end her relation with John. The letter speaks only five lines. Jane even sends brown coat of John with the letter which is the only thing of John she had with her. This is an indication that now there is no any reason for John to come back to her.

But in 1945 when World War II ends, John comes to the village of Jane. End of the sonnet is tragic. John hears news of the death of Jane by villagers, when they narrate him that the letter to the John was the written by Jane on the bed of death and she died with the name of John on her lips. She did not want to bring into the knowledge of John about her death ergo she wrote a heart-braking letter to him so that he forget her. After knowing the painful death and reality behind the letter, John fills with grief and has no reason to live and kills himself with his gun on the grave of Jane.

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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!”

Starved, He Starved

Call, I this morning my mistress,
Decorate the deliciousness as in bless,
Haste my mistress, I shall be carving
Shall I produce my fiction on starving.
Stress, I initiate my thinking tank,
Go and fetch something from lower rank,
(Forgive, my apologies to address thee
Of the lower rank; in fact is me)

Recall an incident in great sorrow
Unforgettable, impacted so deep, until any ‘morrow
Saw that brave soul, when bloodshed two was fought
Died he there, home he was never brought,
I recognized a hunger in each his thirsty eye
Starving for beloved, too poor to adieu a bye.

Comments by writer (Ashish Chauhan): On the request by a page on Facebook, I have tried to write this poem. I know this is not the theme exactly as desired by them but this is what I could utter in the answer, I hope it is liked though I know I cannot do things that nice way.
In first octave this sonnet is a keen satire on people who talk about starvation though they do not know what it is because they have never faced it. Poem starts with writer addressing to his wife to prepare his meal. Here it is very ironic that poet is going to write a poem on ‘Starvation’ and he, himself is commanding his wife to make delicious food. Then he says that he is stressing his mind (thinking tank) to write something on the very topic of starvation while he totally unaware that it is very difficult to write something starvation which is soft, serious and an issue full of feelings. The poet calls those who starve are from lower rank but later he admits that he is wrong in calling those poor people from the lower rank and considers himself as a lower rank personality for his lower thinking. Here poet is representing the society which calls them to be from higher ranks but value of their thinking is low.
Sestet in the last lines of the poem speaks story of a soldier in the World War II who has fought so bravely for his country and is dying now. According to poet he is an example of real starvation because he dies thinking of his beloved who is waiting for him at home but he is unable to even bid her a good bye before he dies.

Glory in Death

Bestow, God! difficulties, I will race
Create, Mighty! complication, I will face
Fix there a target, I will chase
You build obstacles, I will keep grace.
Ask me to die, middle of battlefield
To batter on my chest, not to put the shield
Swear take I breath last, detest I to yield
Exterminate me in glory, shalt not I bield.

Thorns are always, before you win the throne
Mourns are always, before your earn the Krone
Souls brave not born, ‘cause heroic verses
But epics sing splendor, do listen universes.

Success Versus Success

This sonnet is dedicated to one of my friend. She is going through a tough time of her life. I can understand this is so frustrating for her but I want to convey her to follow path of truth like she has always kept doing all her life. May be a little late but success is lying there in her bright future.
"Dear friend, please be patient and God will surely greet you with what you deserve. I wish you a very bright and successful tomorrow."

Two paths can lead you to one goal,
Way of truth; difficult; passes through hell,
False is glittering but destroys your soul,
Stay true life long; make your heart swell.
Flip old pages or hear ancient stories,
Conclusion is one; legitimacies endure,
Hollows vanish; true spirits write glories;
May stay hidden in fog but finally conquer.

Success and celebrations; ‘ll prove brief,
Even if permanent, cannot peace thy heart,
Stumble, fall, rise and never lose hope,
They deject but you; never give up the rope,
They make marry while you are in exile,
But they will regret and you will smile.