Sunrise on the bank of Ganges

Sunrise on the bank of Ganges

By Rajul Tiwari

On the bank of Ganges,
I stand alone listening to the temple bells...
lost in the dark of the morning,
waiting for the Sun which slowly propels...

The crack of the dawn in the east,
is more felt than is seen...
It is the moment of an honest prayer,
the warming up of the soul into its being...

The body yawns after a long night,
it stretches to welcome the rays...
Tired eyes can't stop watching beauty,
dancing on the tides as if the music plays...

One by one they land on water,
emit, reflect and sway...
I preferred tiring a little more,
second after second, ray after ray...

It traveled and reached my presence,
it gave birth to my new shadow...
I am covered in nature's gold,
all the precious drops, let my skin swallow...

My hairs ruffle in a humid breeze,
I wanted to let everything happen..
This is the soap of my soul,
before taking a dip I let it all ripen...

The energy of being is blooming,
I am now fragrant like a lotus...
firming my feet I move further,
I was in the middle of current, before I notice...

Oh! this mystic charm of yours,
Though surrounded, but I stand alone...
Talking life to you, greeting life to you,
the light is taken more than it is shown...

The night turned out to be rewarding,
the dark turned out to be loving...
It gave me this morning,
united by being, till now it was cloven...

There are only few true beauties,
and all beauty starts from a sunrise on your bank...
Now, I hear splashes, I hear chantings and chats now,
in your second of beginning.... as if it all sank...

Roses

Roses

 By Rajul Tiwari

They hurt the soul when they wilt,
they bind it too, by memories they built...
They answer for you, they question for me,
they talk standing in the corner of the room...
They enchant my solitude with the blush,
in company, they love to bloom...

The velvet faces, fill fragrance in life,
when everyone leaves, it lingers in the air...
I reach them to touch, as they call,
thorns itch through the skin, but that's a dare...

Many of them decked this corner,
and left dissolved in everything of this room...
They inhabit my body as my soul,
here, they are always young,
in appearance, they may loom...

All look like one another,
but together they make a view...
The man who plucked them,
says, there are many in the garden,
here, given are the few...

I decided to let them be a little away from me,
to live soulfully, they deserved to die in body...
I left that corner with a picture of only one,
Believe me, my space is still fragrant...

That's how roses taught me,
how to love and how to give...
Now, I know a colour can be your spirit,
and spirit is to love and let live...

I Smiled at You

I Smiled at You

By Rajul Tiwari

Once I knew that I am beautiful,
I needed to know how much...
So I smiled at you.

I found light in your eyes,
and more beauty surrounded me...
I am glad that I smiled at you.

No endearments rose,
no sparks were born...
But I wanted to feel, so I smiled at you.

A moment of love,
swept between us...
silently got treasured and I smiled at you.

You kept flipping through,
the pages I wrote...
while I stood there unnoticed, I smiled at you.

I know it was sudden,
when I touched your heart...
it is when you too looked up, I smiled at you.

When you knew that,
something has to be said...
may be revealed, but I already knew, so I smiled at you.

And when your eyes screamed,
your soul couldn't rest...
I had to leave, with remorse I smiled at you.

I should have known,
I shouldn't have smiled at all...
Still when I waved "goodbye", I smiled at you.

What Thou Made!!

What Thou Made!!

By Rajul Tiwari

No matter what we create,
nothing is more beautiful than Truth...
For when it comes out of pen on Time's slate,
we become a creation, and our creation a booth...

The flowing lights from the sky,
the flower to flower hopping butterfly...
The music rendered by a hiding cuckoo,
the peacock's rain ballet in his ecstatic tutu...

Rainbows forming with sun-lit droplets,
the dancing waters wearing infinite anklets...
The dew as the perspiration of the fragrant night,
left as a mark of love on the face of dawn's light...

The Gold splashed and burning hot,
touches the earth and blows away her chilly knot...
The sun-set in the mysterious mountains,
among the crystal clear ponds and fountains...

The stars peeping and winking with naughty grace,
the moon seducing the enormous waves...
All what life makes, All what makes life,
The truth is always fertile, always ripe...

Each day, brings all this to us,
each day tries to drain all the pain and pus...
Each season, heals a previous wound,
each season brings something newly bloomed...

We inhale the messages, when we breathe,
we avail all which they breed...
A work of creation, does it all,
what is not possible from combined efforts of us all...

I bow to thee, if only we had the creative eye,
to read and understand what thou made...
This is what all the chants and holy-books cry,
even after reading them, we remain not what thou made...

Unconscious

Unconscious

By Rajul Tiwari

Walking a tight rope in space,
It felt like a need to be a part of this race...
I was surrounded by nothingness and silence,
still felt a powerful guiding divine presence...

I felt light and spirited still wasn't confident to step up,
I had been till now following the golden lace...
which ended here and now, here is this rope,
I am in awe as I witness the vastness of Universe in grace...

All in motion, silently following what it was designed to do,
only thing which was overwhelmed and stationary was me...
Trembling with fear, I take a step forward but No!!
"HELPPP!!" I scream, and a hand gently held me...

There was a yellow shining planet on the other end,
But a voice told me,"You are not yet ready to ascend"
and unwillingly, I took a backward bend...
I sled down the aerial slope, broke through lighted crescent....

I could hear the wails of a newly born somewhere,
I could feel a force of calling...
I kept falling like a shooting star, till I reached here,
and my heart pained, I felt gush of warm blood rolling...

Opened my wet lashes, which looked like the same room,
Doctor held a baby boy in her hands...
So, it was he who was bonding, he who got me back from doom,
Doctor sweated as she was sure that I broke my breath-bands...

I fondled the little bundle and at once, it stopped crying,
he looked at me and I felt love, similar overwhelming...
I felt all my fear, all my struggle drying,
I felt like a new body, new soul, new being...

This magical celestial body brought me back,
this little enigma wanted me to tend to him...
He didn't only need my warm sac,
but also my heart-beats to send to him...

I named him after Pole Star as to what it brought-
a direction to my life, a life to my "self"...
A meaning to the conscious he taught,
and a journey through the unconscious self!

I know I can Share

I know I can Share

By Rajul Tiwari

In tyranny of pain, I woke up in nights,
In sense of no wrongs and no rights...
the soul inside the cage of the body
again flapped its wings in agitation...
for it could see the clear sky
still had to wait for the cremation...

No, I am not depressed but
it is the little death I live every day...
otherwise I just breathe when
I turn to you and pray...

Blessed with a talent, family and a home,
still my heart always seemed to hit the ribs so hard...
All the bonds  it received, always
severed the feeling of being hurt...

The poor little thing is the ever green flower,
which blooms in little smile and care...
Still it could not hold on enough,
as that "little" was kept to meager...
Unlike the bloom which is fondly remembered,
for the quality of being rare...

I stand alone gazing at nothing,
rendering my duties yet dealing with pin-pointing...
I am just trying to be there,
all that it takes to love and care...

I know that I can share,
I know that you will listen....
Because I know that no matter
what hue you gave to them,
you gave them an equal flight... dove or pigeon...

A Morning Walk

A Morning Walk

By Rajul Tiwari

When I dressed up for puzzles and riddles,

the flow of my robe played with the breeze...

The dew touched air hid inside the ripples,

I admired a look in my eyes, beautiful and at ease...

So much filled with freshness,
I cascaded down the long stair case...

Step upon a step on my way I sensed a stench,

Oh here! people lived where morning chores...

found place just beside their breakfast and lunch...

I cared enough to look away and walk past like ghost,

felt like something stuck in my throat, perhaps my toast...

I kept walking the rough alley down to the main road,

here, I met two damsels dressed in uniform for the green light...

two men on bike were stalking them, asking them to hop aboard,

whatever joy the morning brings, world of these girls hasn't yet seen light...

I overlooked their struggle with the eve-tease,

and immediately, a flock of school children rushed past...

buzzing loud like bees...

Their big bags felt like weigh-stone on my temple's crease,

these children ate organic junk and no butter or cheese...

They were capable of learning more,

but each piece of knowledge seems like burning more...

I thought growing up is not that bad now,

at least for us, milk matters more than buffalo or cow...

A few more feet and I reach Mahatma Gandhi's Idol,

all decked up with pigeon poop and dusty spiral...

I sat down here to catch my breath onlooking the Post Office,

I remembered about my letter to father and checked the post fees...

I had just enough for the day if I kept walking,

so, I went and bought a stamp and at last sent my regards...

I saw the blind sweeper, and in his cap stealthily kept a five,

to my surprise he turned and asked,"You had been absent, hope you are fine"

Then taking a short-cut, I climbed up the Ghats of Gomti,

almost bumped into a pyre, ablaze in union with Almighty...

The cracking of wood and bones felt like playing games,

I was dumb-struck, glaring at the enormous flames...

As if my spirit would be sucked in, I was so much tucked in...

A wise old man came upto me and said,"This is not the place for you."

I was forced back to self and fled hastily, suffering the morning blue...

I didn't utter a word and left the place far far away, pacing in,

traveled for about half an hour more and reached my college gate...

Relieved and relived to see several colourful butterflies racing in,

And I overheard,"So pretty! How many killed on the way? Why so late?"

Sleepless

Sleepless

By Rajul Tiwari

A little heart trapped in a deadly tempest,
the whirlpool of emotions and no saviour in sight...
Wait for the sunnier day, pray for best,
life has the power to dissolve all plight...

The howling wind might scare you,
but believe me, still you will not die...
The lightning may not spare you,
but to know the truth, you have to live all lie...

All the voices couldn't pacify my dread,
the needles of drops pierced my being...
This is only a dream my mind has bred,
even after knowing this, I was scared of staying...

And I restlessly moved my hand to my face,
petrified but transfixed, I still couldn't open my eyes...
I tossed in bed and hurt, I woke up in daze,
dreams are not my friends and they won't leave me in peace...

I walked the cold floor and kissed the paper with my pen,
I knew this will help me, this has always been my secret zen...
My shadow crouched over the table, scribbling then,
I still heard the storm whistling from my window pane...

The reality took away the fear I harboured,
I opened the window and stared at the moor...
The vast resembled the ocean, but now I felt armoured,
The pen released my soul and here, I stand with my core...

People slept while the night was dancing in the hail,
the music was loud but melody was felt...
Nothing else could be heard, not a laughter nor a wail,
I went back to dream and decided to leave it alone to melt...

But the wind seived through the curtains and sang a song,
So much it gave to me, still I chose to keep less...
before writing, I listen and feel so much and so long,
as I put the period, dialogue ended...
Now the night slept, it is only me now, dancing to its music... sleepless...

Story

Story 

By Rajul Tiwari 

(Dedicated to late Rani, my student)

Inside the closed lid of my pen, I hear a sobbing. It is in union with my hand, that it turns into a throbbing. It is when, it starts bleeding ink that I discover a little story, so tiny that in a drop... it would sink. A story which has cocooned inside it so long that it forgot how to "unfold". A story which was so much unloved that it hated birth. A story which took so much time to realise the lamp's glare and at last, it gave in and opened layer by layer. 

A story which has a poor princess in rags but no witch followed neither the love of a charming prince bestowed. A princess who had not attention of the death and neither life loved her. A princess who would come and peep through my window when I taught my son... When he would make some mistake, she would smile and answer "o-n-e is one". When I offered her food, she said "No, I can live without it but teach me to read... if you should" . Rani learnt English to the extent that she reads novels, she sits on a book-stand with growling bowels. I felt uneasy to see her filling her tummy with words, in the summer afternoon when we would eat ice-cream or yogurt! One fine morning she cheerfully said "Ma'm I have something to write. Before, I knew words, I used to read the world... and everything was a story to me, now when I know them well, everything else is boring to me. I know wisdom now but I have not gained it yet. So, I will write about how not knowing things is wise, I will write that feelings don't go beyond knowledge and wisdom combined... So, if you decide to gain, gain it till you reach this wall, or be ready to feel more and endure a fall. I will write about you, who taught me to be true!" I smiled and said,"You don't know, but you have reached that far, feelings don't affect you and truth has unknowingly raised your bar.." To my shock all light in her eyes went away, she said,"Oh then its over, then I must go!" Whole night I kept thinking about her, why did she say so? ... I searched for her near the book-stand and heard from someone, that she passed away with a pen in hand...

O' My Son

O' My Son

By Rajul Tiwari

Your mother might not be the best,
but when I carried you, I forgot to rest...
I sat down with you and made a nest,
A hard mother, a harsh teacher and for you, life's greatest test...

I know you are feeble and innocent,
So, when I hurt you, I cry the most...
All for a stronger you, but still I relent,
on each ordinary learning I also raise a toast...

I fed you tasteful meals,
and waited for hours for you to finish...
I also endeared and cuddled,
also, sounded funny and kiddish...

I may not live to witness,
the wisdom you will achieve...
but one day, you will know,
if I had to, for you... forever I will live...

I wish you to grow up to give and take respect,
Before making love, don't forget to make respect...
Talk to me or not, but mother knows,
All your lively highs and all your precious lows...

O' my son, be big enough
to raise little ones someday...
When you will be a father,
be free enough to play on Sunday...

I don't expect you to be the richest,
but people must look up to you as the pricest...
The world is full of super men and women,
for better, I give to you an enduring soul and loving omen...

I give a life to you which won't be easy,
but its beauty will reach the farthest of valleys
like blooming daisy...
I bless you with all I have,
never fear, only experience, still behave...
I might or might not succeed,
but O' my tiny gardener be ready
as I gift you the seed...

Living a Religion

Living a Religion

By Rajul Tiwari

So much for the species who follows the dark,
we all are born, but to sport a lifelong mark...
We study, symbolise, feel, and breathe through it,
breads, braids, beards and beads, everything to woo it...

We make Gods who created us,
adopt another for comfort and killing one which originated us...
The fact remains the same, we need one to exist,
and life becomes a journey into this thick mist...

Playfully, we declare secularism,
tell me about one, who is out of this prism...
We fight, terrorise and murder for them,
we use them in the name of trying harder for them...

Still the order so much charms us,
it throbs in idols, vibrates in prayers, and unusual alarms us...
What is more unusual than us?
why do we need these books to fan us?

Believe me Godless is better than Heartless,
and Headless is better than Soulless...
You keep finding your "self" in religion,
instead of living for a "selfless" reason...

For a moment pretend that you are God,
just for a moment take responsibility with a concerning nod...
For a moment realise the powers in you,
and use them to guard the little compassion that flowers in you...

I am not asking to make yourself a zombie,
and parade this earth in directionless feeding frenzy...

Let us all "Protect" and "Preserve" and live for this doctrine,
and together wash this social toxin...

We are not living a religion but are drowning in it,
these roads are becoming whirlwind and dead souls are howling in it...
Let us leave our Gods alone, and for once stand on our feet,
show our Belief, that we are worth our meat...

The End

The End

By Rajul Tiwari

I saw the clouds which inked,
somewhere in the mountains they blinked...
They meant their colour,
upon several lives they fell like a muller...

My heart gasped with agonising fear,
though they went far, it seemed so near...
What happened was not thunder,
A wrath or a question on faith's wonder...

Sea of humans was washed away by a river,
bodies clasped between boulders, bursting heart and liver...
And what stood was a shrine, adored by living and dead,
sitting peacefully over a corpse's bed...

All went their chanting and dancing, sweating faith,
they were nothing and no one there, but just a bait...
Finding God is being dead in His lap,
even then He didn't wake up from his cosmic nap...

Ever since then, I bell a temple, I don't seek but ask,
Is this dance of death needed for life to unmask?
The current of water hurts my soul,
the rivers carried bodies like pieces of coal...

This is how the clouds washed the nature,
Scrub of living bones, for a cleansed future...
Haven't we done the same all this while,
poisoned the blessings enough to explode this pile...

People lost, died, crushed, distorted and forever bruised,
Mother showed us how she is wasted and abused...
God didn't interfere for now nothing is unjust,
it has to pass, the curse of time, the nature's powerful burst...

Alone He sits in mournful silence,
passively suffering with the deeds of his sons...
It is still not late to hold these clouds that churn,
let's not wait till He Himself stands and turn...

Once upon a paradise, now a ghostly abode,
A life peeps from rotten graves, only to sing this ode...
For you I sing O' Earth dear,
even if you decided to end us, you kept us in you, so close, so near...

A Game of Chess

A Game of Chess

By Rajul Tiwari

A world in all black and white,
two players with same colour to eyes...
Fixed on the board, forgetting all,
as if admiring intricate work of pashmeena shawl...

So desperate they are to avenge the other,
I am afraid they would breach UN's order...
a sigh of relief and another of disbelief,
both sound the same, misconstrued mischief...

I hear a possessed laughter, when not a pawn had moved,
threat of a nervous breakdown, if some "thing" struck and removed...
Unanimously decided to go weird and crazy,
these two will sure end up starving and dizzy...

Deep meditating of board disturbed as clock ticked so hard
if possible they would as well stop the heart...
If only we really had to think this much in wars,
the policy makers would die of exhaustion, left-overs will be deported to Mars...

A tiny knight was thrown out, and the victim player almost fell!
help needed as both were brain-dead, who cheated?? I had to tell...
I comforted him saying,"He can again come as a zombie for revenge"
and added."Let's eat.." which went unheard as if I spoke French...

I stuffed bread in their mouth, they almost chewed my hands,
"Is eating the only thing left to do??", irritated one reprimands...
As if what they are doing would save the planet!
No real lives taken accept these two, they use mind as granade...

The battlefield is now massacred and cleared,
I hear,"Checkmate!!" and this is what I feared...
Dawn to dusk, this board has plagued me cruelly,
now, for worse panic attacks, both turn unruly...

O'sinister me, I couldn't stop my cup of tea...
it fell on the rest of the game,
I said,"Who has won? What's in a name?"
one answered,"One who killed the most.." other said,"No, who has the most living..."
I said both win though agreed to latter, I had to avoid cribbing..

I have hidden the mystery with me now,
I play, when these are not around...
Casteled, defended and attacked myself several times,
the board to me read,"Escape route for the minds and mimes!!"

Not in Vain

Not in Vain

By Rajul Tiwari

Born hearts pure and loving,
the hearts beating and hurting...
Bit by bit time unleashes the truth,
a battered childhood, a lost youth...

School shows them a fake world,

the image seemed all tangled and curled...
Smelly shacks were home to them,
stories about alien land, not known to them...

Morals were limited to earning breads,
study was limited to counting heads...
Still school was a place of rest,
the struggle went blank here, for best...

Dumb eyed, uncared and needy,
fell into the hands of cruel and greedy...
So school time is spent wandering on red-lights,
begging, torting, and haunting the sights...

They could touch the cars, they would never sit in,
get newer clothes in grants which would never fit in...
Happiness was holding coins, would fight for the fallen one,
ecstasy was basking in rainwater pools and winter sun...

They would pick bits of pizzas freshly thrown,
to have a bite of the richer world, each would want it alone...
They laughed at the boy crying inside the car, for the toy,
thinking that this is the new way of "these people" to express joy...

Tired, they would sit in union to eat once at night,
no mess, no rebukes, no fight...
They would sleep together on bare land,
without father's help, without mother's hand...

One who had family was also taken as rich,
at least they wouldn't be called born to a bitch...
Those were lucky who would read number plates,
they could manage a house job and princely playmates..

And the poorest still lived with the smiles,
prone to wounds but painlessly walks miles...
Nothing to lose, nothing to gain,
he made others feel better, he too is but not in vain...

Sisters

Sisters

By Rajul Tiwari

Born to a mother, they are music to ears,
innocent eyes grew to dream...
They faced fears and fate's sears,
younger was better but then elder was cream...

Binding and bonding beautifully they grow,
elder sweated ambition, and basked to prodigy...
Ecstatic were the sibling and erratic was their row,
younger romanced the nights, submerged in poetry...

Their thoughts were distant forever,
yet they stumbled into each others' sensitivities...
It is not that they didn't try to maneuver,
just that they lived with different capacities...

Time grew more, elder was pushed for more,
and she wondered how? always nervous, always unsure...
Younger tired of sickness, still smiled and learned to endure,
weakling in material, but owned an unrealised lore...

Elder fought it bravely, victory she sought,
younger laughed it in the face, no aims, no thought...
Happiness and expectations, for elder there were two of a sort,
she followed heart, for younger, she resented life's knot...

Often asked why this smiling face talked of death,
younger smiled again but couldn't explain how life is a trap...
Often exclaimed that how intelligently she led,
elder tried to cover her fear with a skillful wrap...

Elder, used to appreciation, can't handle normal ignorance,
younger, used to comparison, worst disappeared in former's presence...
Elder couldn't understand that ignorance had peace,
younger couldn't understand that comparison means "notice"...

As children they were liberated, as grown-ups they were rated,
they still looked alike, for a better future, they waited...
Time hit them hard, and they knew tongues keep wagging,
faith joined them, made them stand, prevented them from lagging...

They fought with each other, interfered with sensibility,
they fought for each other, understood with agility...
They felt for each other, when departed but lacked expression,
continuously, missed lost opposite images, carried on life's mission...

They found partners, mothered offsprings,
whenever saw them playing, remembered their own springs...
They laughed together again and forgot the scarred past,
fate made them different, faith stringed them again fast...

One thing that they both were, women and mothers,
one thing which isn't ruled by achievements or others...
One thing they have found in themselves,
a part of each other, always gave them magic of elves...

To be Hanged till Death

To be Hanged till Death...

By Rajul Tiwari

The bed of roses, the cream of milk,
the walk on velvet, the drape of silk...
A life of dreams, cares and more,
as of some royalty from the folklore...

Pain is curtailed and thrown out of the window,
you sleep in cosy sunshine escaping the willow...
With every step fame flows,
somewhere deep, a wheel churns and game grows...

We are entertained with great shows,
it starts to feed on emotions it mows...
Oh! what has just creeped in all the beauty,
the 'more' seems 'so less', beware to compare the duty...

She doesn't know, but all she does,
was success or just a buzz...
She longed for more for soul,
but found here, there was no door for soul...

The tears appeared as glossed up eyes,
the fears became mysterious desparate ties...
It started devouring a soft bieng,
but nothing was evident on seeing...

No one to guide, what to do when reality struck,
no one to take her out from the deadly stuck...
Every moment she lived, she sinked,
there were several ties but nothing was linked...

Love made no sense, work was a remorse,
no comfort in words, she was slithering alone on the course...
She had lived enough to die,
for she realised what all things are but a lie...

So badly she wanted to be free,
the wood was already hollow which held her tree...
The sunshine was scorching her,
the flowers stung, venom torching her...

And time's stream rewinded that day for a second,
a second when she made loop for her pretty head...
Again no one was there in all that luxury,
she got dolled up for her visit to mortuary...

A few thoughts escaped and caught into a paper,
there was no story to tell, no script, no  chapter...
Just opened and closed, like a box of treasure,
Her Beauty couldn't even cry of pressure...
An act of cowardice or an act of bravery,
not known, but she was found hanged in her exquisite drapery...
What glittered to us was a fainting breath,
for she lived to be hanged till death...

A Birthday

A Birthday

By Rajul Tiwari

Today, you were born,
my little green sapling...
On my window you sit, forlorn,
and give me company to sing...

The breeze brushes through,
reaches me, as a loving gust...
How can I thank you,
for you it is soil and not dust...

Your tiny life, has to stand tall,
I hear the rustling, it seems you have grown...
Accept a wish from us all,
as to you, the moors are shown...

I give your selfless energy back,
so that you are able to make orchards...
Here, I bind your roots in a sack,
you will be with "yours", here onwards...

I carefully travel with you,
letting go has saddened the mood...
I will come to see a stronger you,
may I never see you as piece of wood...

People dig soil to hide or cremate,
I too do it softly, today...
But this time you, to originate,
here, you grow... here, you grow... Happy Birthday!

Romancing the Moon

Romancing the Moon

By Rajul Tiwari

Oh! The bright one, I love thy mystery,
made to enchant and bewilder the little tides...
Thou smile in sorrow, thou gloom in victory,
thou raise your empire, a shield against the dark wides...

Thy shimmer passes through the thick sky,
and reaches the dark of my heart too...
When thou are up, I can rely,
I too can be as much placid and true...

I sit on the terrace in pursuit of thee,
my pen nibbles on paper, I imagine...
I feel the sinking, and gently, thoughts would flee,
craning my head to thee with passive passion...

A soft tap in the glimmering water,
in an attempt to touch thee...
And realise the cool you pose is hotter,
my fingers burn in blue flames I see...

I also see cosmic swallows fly,
and suffering became an imaginary being...
Casting the spell of reality, still humble thou art shy,
like thee, awake and bathed seems everything...

Several silver linings splash together,
and fills my eyes with hope...
To wash takes more than just lather,
I have to imbibe this karmic soap...

The Witch of the Banyan Tree

The Witch of the Banyan Tree

By Rajul Tiwari

Lady in red under the banyan tree,

I used to meet her daily when I was three...

She would feed me with her hand,

and would tie my lose hair band...

The village thought of me as a prey,

to the witch who was ugly and grey...

But to be true, there was no such beauty and grace,

which I felt in her caring embrace...

I recall how she cried under smiles,

but was tied to those few miles...

I missed her endearing words while sleeping,

and every night looked out to find her peeping...

Villagers thought she ate flesh and drank blood,

but my eyes could only see her as a wilted bud...

Whenever I asked father, who was she,

He would end up explaining by beating me...

I still managed to steal some time with her,

why in the world, I felt love from her...

As if she breathed to give me breaths,

to untie my knotted threads...

Now, I know when I see this picture,

my wound has just lost its suture...

My mother was treated as outlander,

left to the banyan tree spread, to wander...

She was burnt down with the tree when I was six,

her charred body was suspected as one of her tricks...

Standing for a girl, she slayed her life,

why was I born to her, why was I alive...

I never played with another girl,

as they all went down into the channel's swirl...

Had it not been her letter to the state,

I would have been torn out of fate...

She gets torched every time a girl is dead,

she is still burning in me, all done and said...

She managed to save one, still helpless she stands,

can you hear the cries, can you hear the wails of infinite infants??

Welcome to the World

Welcome to the World

By Rajul Tiwari

Infinite faces are swarming the land,
but the expression is one...
Standing together but not joining the hand,
and yet not thinking that this can be done...

There are divisions of work, home, farm and church,
there are degrees of love, friendship and compassion...
Be ready to be lost, once you are here, don't search,
for the moment is given away for false passion...

When the light enters into your eyes,
your soul becomes invisible to you...
You are numbed by the greedy ice,
all there is, dancing ego in blue...

You feel nothing but embarrassment,
on loving truly, so you escape...
You become an overwhelmed irritant,
so you leave the thought of selfless help...

Aah! what you only think is world's reactions,
when you need to think about the world instead...
Emotions are nothing but myriad abstractions,
nowhere close to reality, you don't sleep but turn in bed...

Success can be counted in hands,
it has to be protected and not you...
Your happiness is locked in banks,
containment and not contentment is new...

Till yesterday, you divided to give more,
today you all divide to live more...
The hopes still play in several laps,
lets save them from becoming valueless saps...

Time for rebirth and reconciliations,
identify the mettle which makes the nations...
Each little hut makes it to become a house one day,
don't wait to think about it on another Sunday...

A Folder named "Poems"

A Folder named "Poems"

By Rajul Tiwari

A folder named "poems", appeared and I thought,
what am I going to do and what I sought...
What mumbles inside it and why do I respond to this call,
does it listen to me or it shields me like a wall...

No, I don't throw the burden here, I give away the abundance,
for there is difference between resistance and reluctance...
Time is still here and only benign words thrust,
waiting for someone to look under the crust...

Thinking is good but why does it end up feeling,
and the one who is reading, ends up dealing...
No, it is no humour for it is just a bone,
It is the crowd of words which read 'alone'...

Had it not been women against women,
being a woman wouldn't have been a bad omen.
Had it not been money and power,
We would have been having timely shower...

Had it not been liking for blood chilling barbarism,
we wouldn't have been doing doctorates on terrorism...
Had it not been desperation and depressions,
people wouldn't have been on suicidal excursions...

Like you all, I live in this world full of hatred and dust,
where even the beginnings are objects of lust...
I take refuge here when I am scared,
I feel sorry for those who don't have words who cared...

I will wait to give them a share which they deserve,
for this is the only way I can serve...
My fellow people, we are so much alike,
time to be together, forever in karma and psyche...

So, this is the folder which will take me to you,
this is the religion of humanity where I vow "I do"...
Thank you for now, it pains less,
thank you for not letting me cry alone in a warrior's dress...

It will Always be

It will Always be

By Rajul Tiwari

We met as if playing "mirror-mirror",
so it seemed like soul's repeated error...
You would take your eyes away but not your mind,
I would think of you despite a busy grind...

Still unknown to the fact that love follows,
we hide it behind the dark hallows...
It stayed there like a powerful spring,
and gurgled up, through eyes it would sing...

Nothing was said, nothng was done,
we were still bonded into one...
We didn't make our fate,
but it hunted us down rather late...

I heard the wind chime in duet with the breeze,
when to be with you, meant to be in peace...
The feeling though slit my being apart,
there were wounds, still wanted that heart...

We would care, share and lay spirit bare,
and would get hurt for not standing truth's glare...
We looked beyond, and the love was shrined,
given away to be found in space, like a diamond when mined...

Remembered fondly to self like a lost laughter,
the soul fondles it hiding somewhere in the same chapter...
A love dreamt of by poets, only love with no tears,
that is why it didn't seem true, and holding on had fears...

It was not sung, it was whispered lightly,
slowly, it began and hidden rightly...
The memory will have a loving gaze,
an owning touch, a sudden beat at race...

There will also be the music and trance,
there will be everything but no other chance...
Ardourous and adorable it will always be,
no lifetime will suffice so I let you go and see...

I think and turn into a rose,
it will not wither for the season it chose...
When it is not when supposed to be,
then whenever it is, it always was...
always to be....

A Prophetic Dream

A Prophetic Dream

By Rajul Tiwari

Unusual was this night,

the indigo sky had a lonely bird in flight...

I ran to not to let it go,

my puffy feet hit the rough high and low...

The air was thick and difficult to cut,

struggling to run through, I slipped in mud...

lo behold, I was still wearing the beaming white,

a feather lands, gyrating fresh and light...

I held it in my fist, looked at sky again,

now it was dark with cloud, began to rain...

Through a smoother wind I run like I sway,

noticed mud and blood, through my feet slide away...

The feather began to grow in my arms,

it became the bird of the sky, with magical charms...

With warm excitement, I hear a flute sing,

my heart danced, and I rode the bird following thing...

I reached a gleam in the dark, the warmth inside increased,

I couldn't hold on, my eyes closed and creased...

The heart filled with love, it washed my eyes too

I heard a voice say, "Oh she is moving!! Hey, good morning to you!"

The hospital bed, no bird... I carry the feel, but can't see,

after a week, I slept listening to divine lullaby...

Tired and retarded, to coma I succumbed,

the sister told me, opened my hair and combed...

I lifted my hand and took comb in mine,

surprised, she smiled at my golden tresses that shine...

the sun winked at me through the picture window,

And I thanked Him for the wonderful show...

Pebbles

Pebbles

By Rajul Tiwari

Thrown to create ripples not bubbles,

can hurt or disturb, there is no life in pebbles...

Pick yours carefully, this can end peace,

once hurt, won't be worth the siege...

Better as bridges and dams,

even home to algae and clams...

Beautiful they are, when decorated,

still their use is underrated...

Look at the indents it makes,

the emptiness on removal, shows what it takes...

Little words can be chants,

they can be love, they can be rants...

They build us like cells,

to the thirsty, they can be wells...

Read, tell or hear,

but let it not cut and tear...

Use as you like, in any shade,

still beware of its blade...