Imperfect Love

And the show may not halt in between,
And I may remain as an unseen dream,
As the life once lived cannot be relived,
Make a memory of a few bamboo sticks,
Lovers and dreams and tragedies,
Flex and drift shall survive the scene,
Memories once woven of golden seams,
Rings and kisses of all the possibilities,
Glimpse of a beauty, weakening of the knees,
Memories once painted on the walls of dreams,
Little red bird on the window pane shall sing,
Whirlpool of emotions and I May not blink,
Bird may fly away towards the rainbow scene,
Life once lived like a bunch of bees in sync,
And I may not be more than what I am,
And may be more than what I have been,
And for her may be a few bamboo sticks may lean,
As she outsmarts the beauty of a perfect scene,
And I may be the imperfect beauty within,
As the life once seen cannot be relived,
And I may be more than a dream when she sees,
As there are far less possibilities of me being alone,
In this crowded city of scenes and dreams,
And I may blush her chin with a kiss of my lips,
And the little red bird within me shall sing,
As the life lived without her was never lived,
And I may sacrifice a thousand rainbow scenes,
And live a life of imperfectness with her life within.

The Sound Of Silence

When a smile crossed my mind,
I plucked a leaf from a tree,
And so the flower lost its zest,
But the guilt never crossed my mind,
When I ripped the soul of a tree,
As nature don’t mean a thing to me,
Burning a few trees won’t create a scene,
Too many of them are occupying the ground,
Forest lost forever without any sound,
Thousands of forests still left to blink,
Of an eye and the nature disappears,
And so will the humanity one day,
As cutting a few hearts of a few trees,
And drilling a few holes won’t make a scene,
Something that we create, that we cherish,
Nature shall either protect or shall perish,
Plucking a few forests crossed my mind,
Built a concrete wall hid the sun behind,
As the glare of sun was disturbing my senses,
And so I hammered a few nails on my grave,
Built a zoo for the left over’s, and a few fences,
And burned my own miseries with a few trees,
As something that is created has to perish,
Built a bonfire of it, celebrate and cherish,
And so the day I died striped and naked,
Only a white satin left to cover my soul,
As there were no more trees to burn and breathe,
My soul burned to the ground of soulless sheet,
And so dig a few holes and rip a tree apart,
Plucking a few flowers and leaves isn’t that hard,
Find a few forests and burn them to the ground,
And one day nature shall not make any sound.

Death And Tragedies

Meteors and planets all over my face,
Hovering and colliding under my deep,
Dark nose as if an ongoing race,
And the world seems so far fetched,
When I’m one of a kind in this pity race,
Of animals and human beings,
Six strings attached don’t make for a rope,
I’m that fear in your eyes when you sleep,
And the dreams vaporize as if never existed,
Souls burnt together never rest in peace,
And the pity humans shall beg for mercy,
When the sun and the moon inside of me,
Collide and vaporize, dissolve and solve,
Heart like a dark well of hollow and screams,
And the devil sings the song of death,
And tragedies as this world is no more than,
A dustbin lying in an alley full of torn clothes,
And shit and this world may be smoldered,
Some day when the devil shall take the podium,
And sing a song of death and tragedies,
As this world once created by the almighty,
Seems like a scenery behind a window pane,
Full of broken glasses and shards of screams,
If bad was good this world would have seemed,
Perfect to me, as the God once called as,
The almighty, is now resting in peace,
And this world is no less than a death,
And no more than a tragedy to me,
And some day the devil may burn down this place,
And sing a song of death and tragedies.

A Poem

When my left hand wrote a poem for me,
Right hand glared at it in jealousy,
He tried to lift a pen and a paper,
Doesn’t look so hard as it seems,
Scribbled and tumbled for a while,
But never lost its path, never wavered,
Losing and disappointment,
Feelings and thoughts from inside ate her,
Rain and sun all the weathers came along,
Birds of spring stopped to sing a song,
In the mean time left hand rested in peace,
Joys and pride of winning never seized,
And so the left hand slept out of sight,
Right hand could write only a few lines,
Looked at the reflection of its empty hands,
Dropped down broken hearted wept and cried,
Reflection of a car speeding before my eyes,
No matter how much dense dark clouds try to hide,
Burnished and lustrous sun never forgets to rise,
And so I held my right hand close to my heart,
No matter how treacherous the journey is,
My thoughts and words never lost their path,
I know my left hand was once a part of me,
A poem once written so calm and serene,
Writing with my right hand,
Doesn’t seem so hard to me,
And whenever I waver, beg and crumble,
A poem of my life gives me the time to think.

Droplets On My Shoulder

Deeds of your own mischief’s,
Is nothing but a transparent lie,
And it might start to rain outside,
But droplets won’t fall from the sky,
And I might not see your face again tonight,
As there are better things to do in life,
And I might watch a rain drop slide,
From my window pane towards my eyes,
And people below me shall think,
That I might cry but the chances are none,
And I might light up the sky tonight,
As there are better things to do in life,
And I might just turn off the light,
Sit back and watch as meteors collide,
And if the world would end tonight,
I might just see a snail crawl out of sight,
As there are better things to do in life,
But I might still see your face in those droplets,
As it slides from my window pane to my eyes,
And I might just feel you for some time,
Even if it’s an illusion I might not feel better,
But who wants to do better things in life,
When you know that I might rather live a lie,
Then watch you sit around, flicker and die,
And I might say your name aloud,
Towards this deep hollow sky,
As the echo of your name,
Might rain a few droplets on my shoulders,
And I might just sit there for a while,
As you are much better than this life,
And I might just live you tonight.

9.46 Seconds

Sometimes I just don’t understand the difference between life and dreams. I’m a regular person like any other loner walking down the street with no aim in life. Walking just for the sake of walking and checking my watch once in a while, not because I’m getting late, just getting used to the fact that I have been walking all morning and its 6 in the evening. Sun is trying to find its way between all the concrete poles trying to outsmart each other. People are walking past me, some in a hurry, some just plain tired from the day’s work, and some just dreaming or you can say stuck somewhere. This is Mumbai. City of dreams and misfortunes and fortunes brought together into a perfect synchronization where everything looks bright and shiny. Of course the bright and shiny part can be considered for a few exceptions. Otherwise it’s just a route straight to hell. See, you change a city to chase after your dreams. Just changing the city doesn’t mean you are getting closer to your destiny. In Mumbai each and every human has dreamt, dreamt big, some have promised their families, some have just come out of pure rage and revenge. “Someday I’m going to show everyone what a big bunch of losers they are when I will be famous” well I say open a food stall and find a corner as you are going nowhere brother for the rest of your life.
I sell fruits and vegetables. So I was walking from morning till evening just for the sake of walking. No, I was not. In Mumbai you don’t walk, you scramble for a place where you can stand on one of your toes. If you are lucky you will get to stick both of your toes while standing in a train. Mumbai I strictly say is not a city where you want to check your luck. Main road just outside chatrapati shivaji terminal till the market near dadar station, that’s my area. From morning 9 till evening 6, that’s my timing.

Place of birth: Chamrola, Bijnor, Uttar Pradesh, India.

Dream: To become famous.

Current status: fruit and vegetable seller.

Timing: 9 to 6

If ever there was a book written on how to dream big and end up becoming nothing 10 million people in Mumbai will raise their hands to write one.

Well me?

I have a plan.

Not like one of those plans that they show in movies in which the hero devices a plan that sounds ridiculous to everyone but what the heck it’s a movie, right?
It’s not a plan it’s more like my last option, my last hope.
Area: chatrapati shivaji terminal to dadar station.

Distance: 10 km

Rounds per day: 4

Some of the fruit and vegetable sellers don’t even cover an area of more than 2kms while most of them stay where they are from morning till evening.

Me, I have been covering an average of 40 to 45 km for the past 4 years.

Four years back when I completed my 5th anniversary of living in Mumbai I stumbled upon a plan. A woman was purchasing fruits from me when suddenly a guy comes, snatches her purse and starts to run as if his ass was on fire.
So I start to run after him and hell I ran like no human being could in this damn city. At the age of 25 I will become a legend.

I became a legend.

100 metres sprint past record: 9.58 seconds

“Fruit seller from India breaks world record”

My timing: 9.46 seconds

When it comes to chasing your dream you don’t walk, you have to run for it, grab it, whisk past it. It doesn’t matter from which city or town or a village you come from, or changing cities, what matters is how fast you run for your dream.

I was a fruit seller.

Tonight I stand before the sea. I think it’s trying to tell me something.
Tonight I became a legend.

I don’t know what I will be in the next 10 years. Whether I will be able to run this fast? All I know is that in those 9.46 seconds I ran from Chatrapati Shivaji terminal to Dadar station. I felt like I was home.

A legend.

Someday You And Me

This room is too full of people,
It’s suffocating me from inside,
Clutching onto my throat,
Illusion of the sun and stars,
I think the sun lost its panache,
Long time back when the,
Hatching of the eggs,
Didn’t make any sense to me,
Life is nothing but a deep,
Black hole full of possibilities,
Someday I will submerge myself,
Half naked, stripped apart in it,
And see the underwater world,
So calm and serene,
And I may begin thinking,
What would the tiny fish do?
When the big bad shark,
Ate all of her family,
And was left all alone,
With no room to breathe,
And I may whisper to the tiny fish,
Revenge is a deep black hole,
Full of endless possibilities,
You may either submerge in it,
Blindly or rather swim in it,
As life is a deep blue ocean,
Of endless depths and dreams,
You are no less than a shark,
Someday you may grow,
Bigger than it may seem,
And I shall grow fins and wings,
That day and swim in my dreams,
Fly to the surface of the moon,
And sit beside a crater for a while,
And begin to think,
What would have Neil Armstrong done?
If he would have fallen in it,
Life is a black hole of possibilities,
And 40 years later,
I would have seen his hand,
Reaching the end of his journey,
And I would have lend a helping hand,
Welcome my friend to a world,
Where someday you and I,
Shall sit back and think,
What a rush of a journey life is.