Skip to main content

Change from the edge

Innocence was good
there were no fears
Childhood was a period
We were free to let flow our tears

Mind didn't have much to worry
All grudges one could easily burry
Life was a feast, of colourful days
Lots of choices and myriad ways

No manual of happiness guided anyone
No timelines to chase and get stuff done
Silly acts, too made us bloom
Frowns had no fixed room

Stars were pure magic
Moon played the trick
It's periodic waxing and waning
From shapes of a disc to a deformed ring

Then the knowledge was imparted in institutions
About the actual stars and the world
Which had an impact that was mind-bending
And gradually innocence became an ephemeral thing

As we grew up, with implicit meanings
We got wrapped up in worldly things
Now we are lost in a labyrinth
Mutually coexisting in a myth
That the world will change and then will we
Till then, just wait and out we see

Why not look within yourself
and let the change begin from thee
Do you fear the wrath itself?
Why not take a spree?

Start the change you wish to see
Let your caged innocence be free
Take not a step but a leap
Take a fearless dive that's very deep

Reach extremes and then you would get
Either a pearl or a star, one can surely bet

















Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Why Have Children?

Told by many: Have a baby. Answered by none: Why have children? It made me pause— why I want a little wonder, to whom I wish to surrender, what meaning it might render. Then quietly, it was revealed, this truth was never sealed: children are pure magic, their being needs no logic. They bind scattered families, rekindle affection and love, bring forth our childhood stories only our parents remember. In them, we relive our childhood— its innocence, its light— and learn, at last, gratitude for those who raised us right. They ask for sacrifice, yet give us something rare: a reason to grow gentler, a heart more aware. They carry our culture forward, our values, our names, our ways— small hands holding centuries of yesterdays. Their curiosity is contagious, offering a new lens on the world. You want to live well for your child, and suddenly, you’re afraid to die. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

प्रवासी मज़दूर के प्रश्न

है कौन वो ? क्या उसका है ? गांव है ? शहर है या देश है ? या सारी दुनिया उसकी है ? यह मज़दूर है , पाया जाता हर जगह ज़रूर है |  पर कितना इनका अपमान किया, नाम रखा पर काम लिया |  खबरों का एक अंग भी ना ठंग से इन्हें दिया  इनके दुख दर्द और कष्टों को बस  कुछ आंकड़ों में समेट दिया  इनकी व्यथा को सबने ही तो है अनसुना किया  ना दिखी कोई आस आसरे की  जब जरुरत थी उन्हें सहारे की  तालाबंदी में जब सबका घर था  उनके जीवन में नया प्रश्न था  कहाँ का वो निवासी है , आवासी है ? या बस दास ही है ? जीवन भी नहीं है उसका  जब चाहे कोई रोक लेता है |  मन चाहे जब जाने को कहता है, वह अपने दम पे ही चलता है   कभी भूख कभी प्यास से मरता है   जीने के लिए हर पल संघर्ष करता है |  आपदा में भी पलायन का किराया तक खुद ही भरता है  बाढ़ की तरह उनका जमावड़ा जब  शहरों से बहता है  सड़क, नदी और रेल की पटरी किनारे  बेबस सा दिखता है |  क्या तुमको यह भयावह  सा  नहीं लगता है ? आज यह वर्ग है  कलको तुम्हारा  भी तो हो सकत...
Post a Comment
Read more

Weird Modern Women

They are called modern in every era For they dare to be different Push the social boundaries Ask explanation for traditions That paint them weak, Keep them away from power, Burden them with responsibility, Curb their right to choose  and push them to just follow- the mores and customs & practices most of which they despise. She is often caught and pulled back  by this social web  so intricately knit that guides her look her every move her  every choice because she fears being an outcast It is so skillfully made That even in her rebel too she tortures herself to fit a checklist of liked/ desirable women  From waxing her body to wear that shorts/skirt to compromising her career for family it all looks fair and part of peaceful living.
Post a Comment
Read more