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.

The sky

I've been asked a million times,

"what's your obsession with the stars and the moon?" 

I wish I sang back in rhymes, 

"it's equally deep with the sun at noon." 

But there's more than what meets the eye,

lessons to be learnt and thoughts to amuse,

under a clear midnight sky I lie,

asking for answers and searching for clues.

I ask about their creator the God, 

to know who controls their movements and how? 

They just twinkle, must be their head nod, 

"we just do it like we are in love." 

I ask them about their power to rule, 

the kith and kin of every human ever,

"it's not our fault that you are a fool." 

Their ambiguity makes them sound clever.

I ask them about how they see us humans, 

tiny as a grain of sand? 

They say we are guns, huns and puns, 

a kindling life amidst this mystery grand. 

I ask them how should we lead our life? 

Being changes but changes remain, 

they speak about learning from strife, 

"nothing to lose is nothing to gain."

I ask them about others of my kind, 

how to live in harmony and peace. 

They told me to control my own mind, 

"it's about the warmth, not the fleece." 

I ask them about the purpose of our existence,

why are we the way we are.

They'd just stare at me in silence,

pushing me into my introspective war.

Answers and clues are there in the sky,

the one above your earthly thoughts,

past the clouding veils of your mind lie,

waiting for you to connect the dots.

The introspective war goes on and on,

but I don't find a solution.

If it's a thrilling journey we embarked on,

who cares about the destination?

Spin

A top, spinning, looking in different directions, to find sources that'd retain spinning, balanced on a sharp tip, all earth forcing it down, strongly pulling, only to kill, only to pull down, and when the nature's force wins, top shall rest, stop spreading out it's warmth, and live at rest. Die?

The earth, spinning slowly, thinking sun rises and sets, not knowing it's spinning, balanced on the perfect speed, one perfect orbital speed, sun pulling towards, controlled, think it's alright. Ignore the spin, burn or freeze, to death. Ain't you spinning? Ain't you gonna be played around with?

I was the ant. I faced the top, and became one. I faced the wall and became one. I faced the thunder and became one. I faced the ocean and became one. I faced the earth and became one. Im facing the sun, you know why?

I want energy to spin, and gravity to hold me, I want to buy the ego and stop playing good, I want to be whatever troubles me, but keep me lit, keep me spinning. I live. Do you?

The last minute

You and I staring into the empty air, 

the noise of the world in the backdrop, 

a thousand words unsaid in your stare,

heard it in my eyes, a teardrop, 

they spoke about memories you and I share,

moments when I wished the time to stop, 

we feel that we were solely born to care, 

but our dreams' balloon would just pop.

The time had passed and we move apart, 

far from each other into this world senseless,

lump in my throat and a heavy heart, 

lost wandering alone in random busyness, 

in search of fresh memories and a fresh start, 

to a dejavu of this emotion I guess, 

how would i stay unhurt by your bye dart, 

how could I, my love for you, confess? 

Do you know how affectionate and fond, 

I am of you? Oh! you sure do, 

for I know what you think of our bond, 

I heard that in your eyes' mute speech too. 

All I wish for is this world to be a pond, 

for I'd love it when my dreams would woo, 

that I'd meet you again, I may be conned, 

but some fairytales are better than this reality true.