Sunday, December 25

I Know Why the Nightingale Sings Tonight

Oh! tonight 'tis true What the nightingale sings With her unfolded wings, for she Learnt from the wind, utter A sigh. 'twas sometime Earlier this night, the wind Overheard the brook, which Whisper'd to a passing creek, of The story the pebbles told, when Down her banks they rush'd And roll'd. 'twas sometime Earlier this evening, the pebbles I threw in the brook, as Many as I could reach, and with Single each, single only was the Name, which escap'd lips of mine Of you. Five and a twenty cold nights Have come and gone, since You went afar and I'm alone. Remember The Adieu I wished? And Nary has a moment
Pass'd in which Have you not been Solemnly missed. And tonight 'tis true What the nightingale sings With her unfoldeed wings, for she Spreads in the open air, the song of My quiescent despair. So tonight I picked up the stones. And With a deep sigh, I Threw and watch'd them Roll. And off they Roll'd! And on they Float'd! In a moment they Drown'd! Helplessly Drifting away Into the stream. Oh! tonight, Baby you’re away, and I Feel helpless, yes 'tis true. Tonight, it's Christmas eve. The nightingale Sings, the wind blows, the stream Flows, Christ Is born, and I am Just as helpless as A rolling stone.

- Pavan
25th December, 2011

Thursday, September 1

has to
tiptoe lightly
and steal up
to one’s
you don’t
the water
when you are

A Solitary Sailor

Those days, they were dark,
Those nights - often cold,
Soon it began to rain,
Never did it stop again.

There was flood,
Water, water, everywhere,
And I know not how,
I was able to survive.

There was blood,
Dead bodies, floating, everywhere,
And I know not how,
I am still able to breathe.

Over the horizon a faint ray,
First few sparkles of sunlight,
No soul to be seen near my boat,
For everybody is long dead.

And I keep floating alone,
Boat aimlessly wandering,
Here, there, somewhere,
I have nowhere to sail to,
Does anybody out there,
Want to sail too?

I want to breathe,
In the open air,
Does anybody out there,
Want to breathe too?

- Pavan

Wednesday, June 8

An Unconventional Birthday Wish

Dear Stuti,
I am substituting this little verse for the traditional "Happy birthday to you, enjoy your day" post on your wall, a 140-character tweet or a forwarded text message. I know it's a little unconventional way to wish someone "happy birthday", but here it goes.
Hope you like it.

It was
the seventh day
of the month sixth. A hushed cry
echoed through the busy corridors. It drowned
in the metal clicks, hurried footsteps, the squalls
and hollers. Amid all these
she was born. Much like
a little angel in the
face of the earth. It was
a happy day.

Days passed. The cries
grew louder and clearer. Soon weeks,
months and years passed. The cries
transformed into a smile. Myriad colors
sparkled in her eyes. They
spoke of dreams. It was
a beautiful smile.

The early years. Blossom,
wind, rains and heat
witnessed her. With the winds,
she ran freely. She played hard, sang
kicked, cried, scratched
and laughed. She threw pebbles
in freely flowing freshets. She watched
as the sun set and one by one the pebbles
drowned to the depths. They were
the curious years.

Education came through. Both formally
and with experience. Soon
she realized, the cruel
face of the world. Dreams
shattered. Innocence vaporized
like a sole drop of water
resting on a rough surface
in a warm summer afternoon. The shadows
on the wall grew long. She suffered
and agitated. That was
when she learned to live with compromises.

She didn't believe in magic. Before
she met him. When
she had never expected things to get
any better. He came as
a wave of fresh air. Like a firefly
dancing in endless darkness. She grabbed
his hands. His tender touch. She will never forget
her first kiss. The warmth
the promises, the glee.
The nights spent wondering
if anything can
ever go wrong. They were
the wonder years.

The skies turned gray. The unlikely
happened. They weren't
together anymore. All of a sudden
the tree of her happiness
was uprooted it seemed. Her dreams
slayed. Although she knew
crying wouldn't help, she
couldn't stop herself. The endless nights
now she spent wondering, If
there ever would be a sparkle
of sunlight in her purposeless life. She stopped
believing in magic. They were
the times of self discovery.

four and twenty fine years have passed since
the hushed cry had echoed
in the busy corridors. Time has been
a cruel teacher. But the lessons learned
are like the pearls collected
from the surface of deep ocean. She has emerged
from the dark ocean, strong
and victorious. As she is reading
these lines, surrounded by
endless candles and innumerable
well-wishers by her side, I urge her
to take a moment and flash that smile,
that beautiful smile which everybody
is so used to adore. To
remember those dreams,
which once sparkled in her eyes.

- Pavan
7th June, 2011.

Saturday, April 23

I Remember You

Saw your face in the crowd the other day,
I remember what you used to say,
Remember those songs we used to sing,
The memories of the old times still ring.

The forever blinding gaze,
Surrounded by the Christmas lights,
And that staring endlessly,
Into cold starry nights.

With hand in hand,
Remember that moonlight walk?
The sound of outdrawn breaths?
Overhearing the mute cries?
Yeah! I remember you.

Bounded by the silent reproach,
Words sometimes sound so meek,
Few unsolicited questions,
And a couple of answers to seek.

The time has flew,
The years passed in haze,
Plastic smiles that survived,
Tears been long vaporized,
Old memories now amaze.

It's Christmas Eve,
Sitting by the attic I look past the horizon,
The remembrance surrounds the night,
And the lights still shine so bright.

On the table lay two cups of coffee,
And some shear and strain,
Besides rests an empty chair,
And no one to brew the pain.

Trains of thoughts rush by,
The fondling recall, that first kiss,
The heart forever crushed by,
The same old wish.

The Santa flew past my house,
His sleigh shining bright and blue,
Quickly vanishes he with his bagful of gifts,
And I remember you.
24 April, 2011

Sunday, April 17

Benighted Omen

The distant smells that come my way,
Seem to be ripe and sway,
I wish not to see the dark times ahead,
Hear not the rumbling screams and cries,
My gaze fixed upon their revealing face,
As them demons of future stare back,
And nothing save the benighted omen,
To be found in those frightful eyes.

OKAY. It's one week before I face my sixth sem ester end-semester exams. And, continuing my tradition from last semester, I decide to return with my idiotic blogpost(s). So, I am just surfing through my archives, and -  VOILA! - I discover this. While written way back, this mini verse, never sounded more apt.

17 April, 2011