AN OATH OF LOVE

The bond of love, between a brother and a sister, is probably one of the sweetest one in this world. They fight, they play with each other, they share moments of sweet kiddish quarrels, still are ready to do anything for each other...this is called true bro sis relation...and when one feels its importance...its beauty...life becomes easy...and far more lovely...

SOMETIMES, ITS GOOD TO BE BAD

No matter how much innocent we pretend to be...no matter how much decent we look...but deep inside from the core of our hearts...we all dream to live  a life like this...the ultimate dudes...

MISERY : FROM AN EXTINCT PANORAMA

Man indeed, has learned to stay tensed...but by the power of positiveness in our hearts,
we can triumph all agonies...and this is freedom!...when miseries turn to melodies...

RIME OF A BROKEN HEART

This is the other part of love...the pain it can give.
Love never accepts defeat. It takes away the soul
from the body...and leaves nothing...but loneliness...

As customary, me, out on the streets,

crawling to my place, holding a smile,

Left behind, a ruined castle,

feeling so fresh, so agile...

Walking across the streets, my eyes go round,

Look!, Ropewalker moving with grace,

Wow!, Candyseller, selling sweetest candies,

This is Arab, my land, my place...

That boy, showing tricks,

and kids, fighting around,

Mothers maddened, lashing into fury,

My laugh, without any bound...

Here's my place, a pigmy stall,

Screaming...Two pots a coin,

Soil, my god and hands, my tools,

My workplace, my hallowed ruin...

And a fine day, me,

searching for a coin on the ground,

"Two pots please...", Ahh!

That melodious voice, held me spellbound...

Looked up with a frown,

An outsider, I guess,

So good at our tongue,

Grace and decency, enough to impress...

That night, Extinct in her notions,

Thought about her demeanor, her way,

May she'll come again, Next day,

I just woke up and sway'd...

On my way, I found her,

But this time in pain,

Rushed to help her, Didn't know,

if her aura, was the chain...

In an unknown forest,

Butterfly had lost her hive,

And this newly smitten bug, ready to lead,

Enchantment was still alive...

She told me about her country,

told me, about her job,

And me, stunned, lost in her,

could see, her only, in that infinite mob...

Routine incessant meetings,

Little quarrels, giggles, cries,

An unseen bond, sprouting up,

An unnamed relation, about to rise...

Time wheel rolled on,

My soul, coalesced with her,

And I decided that night,

"Tomorrow, I'll propose her"...

Stirred up, to the peak,

Was mugging up, my part,

Ecstatic weather, took my heart,

And then came, her cart...

That Elysian girl, descended,

But this time, with a swain,

told me, he was her fiance,

Yusuf, was his name...

Silence...It felt as if,

Touched by the icy hands of death,

Entire skeleton, lost sensation,

A mortal being, with no breath...

That was her last day, at our place,

My heart, saturated with pain,

My dreams, demolished brutally,

The castle was a ruin again...

The market remained as busy,

But now no pigmy stall, just sand,

Someone heard people gossiping, A lad

found dead, with a foreign coin, in his hand...

                                                                        -  Kshitiz Upadhyay

RAJKUMAR

Actual Photograph of Rajkumar,11
(Hostel No.4,M.A.N.I.T Bhopal, India, 18/09/201

As accustomed by me,

Again I have come to this place today,

Place, where he works,

Brown wavy hair, grimy attires,

unpleasant hoarse voice, and

that ever smiling round plump face...

 
His wraps, loose like a cloak,

Perhaps, some teenager would have given him,

and hair, those sapless fibres,

as if not touched,

by a single drop of oil, from his birth.
 

All he do'es,

is washing dirty cutleries,

perhaps, more than a ton daily,

of those swarm of guys,

serving orders, and

arranging things, in that stall he works in,

in that stall, where we graze daily.

 

No fairy tales to listen,

no one who cares,

no good food to eat,

no good clothes to wear.

All he has, and feels joy in,

is seeing our cellphones,

coloured magic boxes for him,

and singing songs,

or I should say roaring,

in the corridors.

 

No slides to slide upon,

no ropes to jump,

no toys to play with,

no sweets to taste.

For rubber tubes, his slides,

spit bubbles, his fantasies,

stone pebbles, his toys,

and dry chappaties, his sweets,

give him all the pleasures,

and a steep boom,

to his captivating smile...

 

Still he is happy, not aware,

Of the murky depths of his future,

Of the life of the kids outside,

of his age.

Situations and fortunes,

often dwarf-en the dreams...

 

Perhaps whatever, going on,

is all ethical, good for him.

Better, is dying unaware of the disease,

than, by knowing it can't be cured...

 

As I, everybody thinks,

about his life, his future,

for a while,

with a sip of tea,

with a puff of smoke,

when his chubby face,

comes before our eyes,

but no one...seriously no one,

dares to do something for him.

 

All butcher hearts, paying no attention,

to that old familiar voice,

from deep inside the heart,

that something is to be mended,

something, is going wrong,

somebody, is suffering,

something, could be far better...

 

Tomorrow again, I'll go to that stall,

and think for a while,

with a sip of my tea,

with a puff of smoke,

"As everybody call him,

is he...really, a Rajkumar?"...

                                               -  Kshitiz Upadhyay 

A DREAM COME TRUE

Mother, the most selfless creature of this universe, wants nothing but the wellbeing of her kids.
 Her kids are her  world...her life...a ray of hope...and a reason to live in this world.

I'VE LOST IT ALL

 Love is so strange. Sometimes we feel the beauty, and sometimes, the pain. But still, we have no control over this feeling. Its a ray of hope sometimes, and a fatal killer sometimes...