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...