Maybe

Maybe, we are all moving forward, 

or maybe we are not, 

maybe, we are all spreading outward, 

or maybe we are not, 

maybe, we can see the universe in us, 

or see ourselves in the universe, 

maybe we are blind, deaf and dumb, 

or maybe it is this that's all there. 

We may try to know what is there, 

or what is not, 

we may ask how to be there, 

or how not to be here, 

but the puzzle is that we never ask why, 

why we dream of higher states 

and deeper understandings. 

Maybe we are a group of mental capabilities

drugged and hallucinating, 

waiting, waiting, 

waiting.....

The real bliss

You're a tree, green, thick and tall, 

blooming in the spring shredding in the fall,

nurtured by the breeze beaten by the storm, 

did they cut you short or did they give you form?

You're a rock, a rigid stubborn one, 

weathering in the rain shining in the sun,

stepped by the paws pressed in the claws, 

did they make you unique by giving you those flaws?

Just because they shape you, would you live along? 

Would the tree not die if the wind was strong?

Wouldn't the rock in a million years become sand? 

What if you're dying slow and you never understand?

Where is the line between the living and the dead? 

Would you not die even if you are overfed? 

What about the snake hiss, is it asking you to kiss? 

If life is such a pain, isn't death the real bliss?

Regret

There shall come a day when one must die,
when one must leave this life and just fly,
maybe to another body or to heaven,
over this world, and a six or seven.

Then shall you have money and wealth you sought,
those cars and apartments you bought,
the affection of a family you made,
all set to die under a blade or a spade.

But what if you had left just one stone unturned?
What if it was the spark for which your heart burned?
What if there was one big task left to do,
it was one dream that along with you grew?

Would it be alright if fate had been unjust?
Would you be content like life was just a test?
What if it was you who lazed like a cat?
Would you still die with that ego under your hat?

What if it was just a step you could have taken,
that would've you from your slumber awaken?
What if you never knew who you were,
what were you born and what you live for?

How sad shall your death be when you're ripe,
if you still can't speak without drugs in a pipe?
How sad shall it be to be unable to cheer in joy,
to be sharing your fears and tears with a soft toy?

Would you really rest in peace under soil,
if your life was one such turmoil?
Would you be happy to die as a human,
knowing you've never lived like one?

Name

When did this start? Not long ago.
Where am I now? Not far away.

What do I feel? It's better this time.
Why am I thinking? Because I can.

Who's asking the questions? A sane me.
Who's answering? Not me.

Where are we headed? Towards tomorrow.
Why are we moving? Because we can.

What is this? One.
What do we call it? Love.

Inquisitive

Kids question. As a part of their development from infants, they'll always be inquisitive. Starting from touching, feeling, smelling and seeing everything they get hold of from their infancy, their questioning starts. Out of love or care, we keep them away from these dangers. That's a way of suppressing their questions. By not letting them know what to ask about.

As the kid grows, we teach him words and manners to ask for what he wants. It's a different thing to answer affirmative or not, but soon we will be suppressing their questioning. When the kids enter their intelligent learning phase, where in they need not feel by the senses, we, as parents tend to become impatient. Yes, their questions are irritating, you might not know the answers for many. But, instead of answering if we know and saying "I don't know" if we don't know, we'd do everything else to suppress the question.

Only a few survive the tough times. Fast forward through their childhood where we have always been teaching kids to learn things without questioning, we end up with kids who would let go without learning rather than ask questions in the subjects. And we, as Indians ask our early teenage children to learn science, the art of observing, questioning, reasoning and verifying whatever we see.

If anyone happens to survive this roller coaster ride of having to choose between questioning or not by questioning, we would call them rebels. And if these rebels happen to be good students too, (most good students happen to be rebels) they end up in good colleges in their late teenages where they'd meet more of their kind, realize that they're not alone or unique, unite and empower themselves being characters in the true sense.

These rebels finally move out, we isolate them, pinpoint them, and try to dissolve them into our own stupidity. They, being the minority, often succumb to the societal pressures and become one of us. And then, we keep crying about brain drain and lack of scientific insight and all other similar consequences because we can.

Wait, why am I saying we? Am I not on the other side? Did I already convert? Paavam me.

Rose

I always wanted to live like a rose,
blooming a day and dying by night,
wasting hours in choosing a pose,
mistaking sun to be my spotlight.

As I grew up, a new dream was born,
One to be unfeigned by time's stride,
better hurt than suffer like a thorn,
mistaking my ego to be my pride.

Later I fell for the peace of the root,
helping the roses and thorns grow,
desiring fruit at the tip of my shoot,
ignorant that every winter must go.

Then I saw in me an entire roseplant,
the nature's flow controlling my life,
Oh how many poems would I just rant,
oblivious and forlorn in this strife.

But for now, I wouldn't ask who or why
is science, read 'nature has its own way',
I got wings, tell me why shouldn't I fly,
ignorant of reasons to float and sway.