A Golden Door and Silver Key

A book is like a portal, or perhaps a golden door,
that can teleport you to realms you've longed to visit before
And once we cross the threshold, I'm sure we'll all agree-
words and phrases come together to create a sparkling silver key
When scouting up icy peaks, we wince at the glacial gusts,
when roaming across the stretches of sand, we try to evade the stormy dust
When basking in the tranquility of the forest, we inhale the fresh, green air,
when diving down to unknown depths, we try to capture moments so rare
While engrossed in a book, we live through more than any boy or girl,
eagerly readying ourselves for the adventures to unfurl
Whether it's riding a mare, galloping beyond the glade,
or being the accomplice to a prisoner formulating an escapade
or witnessing the deliberate misuse of talent and magic,
or accompanying and assisting all types of animals- terrestrial or pelagic
or live through and watch over a divergent family scenario,
sympathizing and comforting them during all the gloom and woe
Or from repeatedly reliving the pressures of high school,
to kneeling down before a ferocious monarch's rule,
we can sense the ideas laced and woven between the continual words-
some stay embedded in our mind, others remain unheard
Yet, more than the storyline, is our feeling of corresponding emotion
of varying intensity- hovering over the surface, or at the bottom of the ocean
It's something books can unanimously bring out
from every person who lands on them, without a doubt
And though the pages are a dull black and white,
we see much more, we see the sight
of a variety of coloration, tints and shades
that intensify with the passage of time, rather than simply fade
And all the while in our pocket, rests that sparkling silver key
that keeps us locked up in the world we've entered- without it we'd be free
to reluctantly walk back out through the shimmering golden door
teleporting us once again to the land much too bland and uninteresting to explore
  

Travail in Travel- on the Roads of my City

India is a nation of aromatic cuisines,
embroidered fabric,
diverse greenery and wildlife,
and most importantly- the everlasting traffic
It's next to impossible to successfully navigate...
through the roads of the capital of my state
When I first moved in, I used to wonder- will I reach home
before dawn?
Given the haphazard way I continually roam,
the stars would have come and gone
On a weekday, the traffic kicks in some time after five,
it instantly wakes me up- nothing makes me feel more alive
My mind sprints, formulating conjectures
 and many a wild guess-
"How do people steer themselves from this
full blown, wholesome mess?
With people and animals briskly walking
up and down the street?
And that distracting resonant sound
of the constant shuffling of feet."
Flashing motorcycles dart past, proud to honk and blare,
as the sun beats down upon your neck,
as dust clouds rise up in the air
The city is enveloped by a veil of smoke,
the air reflects the pallor of a dark cloak
The paths are laden with loquacious, school girls and boys
who are somehow able to effectively communicate
amid all the rush and noise
There's that perpetual, hollow sound of car after car's
wheels grinding and rotating
 against the black mass of tar
Dry leaves crunch, dogs bark
their sounds echoing from light till dark
And the roads- brimming with ridges and grooves
rendering a steady flow of traffic
nearly impossible to smoothly move
I am presently hearing the reverberation
of traffic as I rhyme and write,
while hearing the building of residential homes
at the many construction sites-
a persistent humming and drilling
that meets its end only at late night
But from the ninth floor of my apartment-
it forms a mind blowing, fascinating sight

Going in Circles? Or a Timeline?

Whenever we gape

at the towering structures of

mankind, we are hit with one thought-

the changes man has withstood, the obstacles

he has overcome, and the progress he has charted-

is phenomenal. But there remains one observation that can

make us scratch our heads. Humans originated on this planet

200,000 years ago. Nevertheless, all the major inventions, ranging

from telecommunication satellites to artificial plants, had occurred solely

in the past 500 years! What mind-boggling alteration could have taken place

around that particular instant? Did man suddenly grow in intellect? Did a wise sage

pass on his wisdom and oral traditions on to the coming generations? However... when

we visit monuments that were built thousands of years ago- forts, temples and statue- we

can see the architectural style and precision, the toil and effort, and moreover- spirit, that

went into its eminent construction. So that leads us to the thought- is mankind going

in circles? From inspiration drawn from Shakespeare's poem- The Seven Ages, could the

development of humans be divided into various stages? Initially, we are novices to the

world, its resources, and its concealed potential. Gradually, as realization hits, we are

acquainted with our useful surroundings. After massive development, we are

positioned at the zenith of our life. Later, inevitably, arrives the disputes

internationally for land, money and power, thus resulting in a war-

devastating, cataclysmic and the reason for man's steady

obliteration. After many  centuries, we are reborn,

and the entire cycle is repeated. Could we

currently be at the apex of the circle, or

are there further achievements to

come? Only time can answer

this enigmatic query. But I,

for one, am certain

about one thing:

Life goes in circles, never a line, and certainly not a timeline

It spins like a top, landing at a certain outcome, thus

determining the lives of billions

of people, across the globe

                             

Nature on New Year

First published in the literary magazine 'Nature Writing'

Nature, coupled with its beauty, is capable
of narrating an unforgettable story
particularly at the start of a new year
is it at the pinnacle of its glory

Once I escaped the morning celebrations of the city,
and stepped amid the canopy of trees
instead of being engulfed by a gust of smoke,
I was hit by a fresh, invigorating breeze

It was then did I realize- nature possessed
its own hustle and bustle
of creatures nestled in their habitats,
and that frequent, natural rustle
and crunch of crisp leaves, occasionally
embedded in glossy frost,
while living the slippery sensation,
of my feet trudging over moist moss
and the dampening of my soles
by green grass crested with dew
that reflect the soft morning light,
creating a terrain entirely new-
shimmering rainbow shades
hovering serenely against the air
welcoming me grandly into
Mother Natures pristine lair

Weightless billows of mist gracefully followed,
clinging to my trail
encasing me in its translucent barrier,
like a sweet-smelling veil

Towering, overlooking branches
had shed shadows through gaps and slivers
upon the lush, fertile fields,
and the pure water of the rushing river

With the lowering of the temperature,
I felt the days heated rays fade,
transforming the blazing white light,
into miraculous pink and purple shades

The glacial air then stung my skin,
eliciting pink till my cheeks owned a blush
the bitter chill froze droplets on my eyelids,
that when rested on my cheek, made my eyes gush

My senses longed for the forest creatures
that had furtively returned to their individual realm
that include damp, gloomy caves, the clammy dirt,
tropical evergreen trees and those of elm

I detected the shamrock green that
adorned the bark, alongside the fern
with the dull brown concealed beneath it,
created an assemblage of colors impossible to discern

And that was the moment I sensed the sunlight
secretly commencing its depart
thus gesturing that the reign of night
was positioned at its very start

Within minutes, the darkness had unfurled
only illuminated by the faint glow of the moon
that had cast a celestial smolder on my features
from the exact position of the fiery sun during noon

Without further ado, the blackness became overwhelming,
navigation turned possible solely by the sound
of nature swaying along with the wind
and of my footsteps trampling over the ground

So I lay down upon the worn-out earth,
a slight drizzle falling upon me like tears
I woke up to the chirping of another new dawn
and to the start of a long story of a fresh new year