Primitiveness is deeply rooted in human nature. The question is – how low can one reach?
Author Archives: Arun
The logical
Often I drive her away with all my reasons and then dive blindfold into the deepest canyons to bring her back.
Thief
मैं तसव्वुर भी जुदाई का भला कैसे करून?
मैंने किस्मत की लकीरों से चुराया है तुझे
How can I even imagine being separated from you?
Now that I have stolen you from the lines of fate.
~ Qateel Shifai (lines from ‘Zindagi Mein To Sabhi’ translated by Arun)
Never-ending
Strangely, the concept of true love has to be a never-ending journey… completeness would only end it.
Once 2 floating dots join to become one the next trajectory is monotonic and uninteresting. Imagine the dots trying to meet but deflecting as soon as they get near… 2 sine curves. That’s harmonic. Harmonics are naturally beautiful.
Soulmates
I hear the evening breeze
Murmuring through the trees
Whispering a story, perhaps…
Untold, unheard, from a time lapse.
Of two birds those flew together
Till one disappeared in a stormy night.
Devastated, another took to the pyre;
God, moved, offered eternal delight.
“Show my love once”, cried its soul
“I will give up heaven, burn in hell”.
The wind stops, an uneasy silence
And a bird gazing up at my terrace.
Infliction
Creating value is becoming the deceptively simple chess piece that can inflict the decisive damage when sacrificed.
Jobs
About work… be diligent, stay detached. Becoming a monolithic ATM is not the purpose of life.
Boots
Our little Messi’s first formal soccer boots. Oh, you’ve been my playmate for so many years!!! The colours do match your flamboyance. I remember in a 40-to-win match my score would never cross 10, thanks to your Maths skills.
Estranged
Every face I see turns into yours
Each voice I hear plays your melody
Baby now that your gone ‘n I’m alone
My poor soul knows not how to atone.
Forgotten
Maybe you’ve forgotten me
I would blame it on time
And an unknown address
If not for my arrogant silence.
A heart still beating for you,
Longing the pain dies too
Sweet memories to torment
A broken soul that long left.
Nearly Poetry 