So when I abstain myself from worldly affair
I realized a self of mine blooming again
without a consent of being liked
just blossoming inside out
day by day everyday.
Surrounded with people
who pretend to be friend
I am a straight face
so hard to sugar coat
all the time
So if you blame me
for being rude
I must say sorry
as I can not be pretentious
which you are master at.
Things has to be said
things has to be done
if we all worry about
your fragile heart
I must say sorry
you got to get ground
you are broken inside
I can give a hand
to rebuild yourself
So when you ready
we all unite
with sheer honesty
otherwise I must say sorry
it seems to me end.
Took a leap, disconnected from the ground
where always had a place to rest the soul
after wandering a while and looking out
realized in a moment here I belong.
Just stop pretending and be a self
how hard it is to get done
yet you try harder in fact to survive.
I tried to write
not so much
seems saturated myself
or lack of flow
where words belong
not ready to move out
bunch of emotions
Hibernation could be it
shall pass too.
Blue, yellow, green, red as it’s like light split into it’s fragments of colors while passing through these streets in India, one of many things which I miss since I am away from India are these streets, people walking on these streets, the sound( you might call it noise) so be it streets of Lucknow where traffic crosses it’s own rule, cows have there own way to pass by, honking cars, screaming children, if you give it a moment and stand aside you will realize it ain’t a chaos it’s a reminder of life, life which is associated with sound and colors and smell. You see many expression within a snap, where else you can find this variety of emotions except the streets of India, while talking about Lucknow I must mention this is where my parents live as far I remember I started my life there after we moved to different cities. And now back to the circle they are here again. Lucknow, has it’s specialty in terms of street I say, old Mughal (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mughal_Empire) architecture is still alive and honoring the city with it’s eatery and culture in Lucknow, the street which I particularly picked today is Aminabad, old style market, no supermarket in this street, which is also called as Bazaar, except Thursday Aminabad is always busy with garment shops, food shops, cosmetics, electronics, you just name it.
The color which is prominent in this main street of Aminabad and sub streets is pale yellow reminds me of some old person who is trying to mingle with modern Lucknow yet keeping it originality, some really confined sub streets flooded with jewelry shops is one of many reasons you will see large number of women walking by.
To me these streets are witness of daily lives coming across sympathy, dilemma, ecstasy, curiosity, a trunk full of emotion can be seen here, people rushing, smiling, laughing, anxious, all at one place and the street absorbs all through the day and at night it goes to sleep with an exciting new day tomorrow.
P.S. next street soon.
I need to be silent in process to create,
don’t take it as quite it’s state of deafening,
vehicle crossing by people rushing in street,
the same very street I use to roam years ago,
where I learned with my brother first bike of ours.
So silence takes me to memories down the lane,
where mama says stay awake till dinner
and I don’t remember how I wake up in my bed,
papa was there all night when I cried of growing pain.
Certain memories never leave you side,
they are like treasure in life box we call it family,
we don’t see each other often, mostly once in a year
it seems enough if we all glued with bond of love.
A love which stays in hearts no need of declaration,
no Facebook status, no sending cards,
what all we talk is weather food and health,
same old me and same old them
same old me and same old them….