Where Art Thou ?

On this dark grey passage that I walk ;

My heart is filled with void to the brim.

And like the shoal trapped in the net unseen ,

fearing 'the onlyness' my senses run amok.

Contrast my mind, who holds on to a silvery hand.

At the passage end, it says, your prize does stand.

But the end seems like 'the darker' beginning anew ;

O for this mad mad hope, Where art thou ?


Dost thou tread through a similar passage ?

Getting baked and burnt on the furnace of misery ,

with thy only exhaust, this loquacious poetry ?

The veiled garb of responsibilities thy beauty camouflage ?

Do not tarry then, for your frail limbs consent ;

For my arms would suffice for every rise and descent .

This jigsaw would then complete with you as my frau ;

O for this foresaken life, tell me, Where art thou ?


In my dreams, the inner eye, my imagination swirls.

Would thou be this beautiful and fair ?

With eyes hazel and chestnut hair .

I do wish the nymph from all living girls .

O holy father, through all the distress that I have been ,

I have longed for the beauty than 'The most Beautiful' seen .

All fair ladies of this land, Beware !

For ye mirrors would soon wake ye out of the reverie ;

For the lines of envy would surely be seen on ye milky brow .

O for this challenge's sake, dear, reveal, Where art thou ?
    

The Bom Baim !!

She defines passion, she defines an Indian ;
The proud daughter of the stately Arabian .
Beauty in her heart and by nature tropical ,
My mother is, but Asia's financial oracle .
Unlike the bombastic Hong Kong or glamourous Shanghai ,
She is, but India's very own, Mumbai.

She is a city with just today and tomorrow .
For past has only a century to borrow .
Neither saddles, nor halters of history, she wears ;
Past hickups, if any, she hardly cares.
Perseverance her way, prosperity her goal ;
Poor labourer her hand, middle class her soul .

She is the city that runs by the clock.
For her, the old are those who can just walk .
For the one ,who perspires during the day,
Mumbai, at night with him , will stay ;
But the one, indolent enough to accomplish a chore
will find death cheaper than sleeping with this whore .

For the passionate young, she is the tinsel town .
One might find variety even in a night gown.
Its the city of businessmen, sportsmen, poets and fashionists ;
Of actors, singers, hoteliers and educationists.
Mumbai makes one reap as one did sow .
She has the guts to bring a wrinkle on Delhi's brow.

At her very mention, the eyelids enlarge
at the thought of Sachin Tendulkar or Thackeray raj .
With connoisseurs of music in all her strata ;
Every house listens to the nightingale named Lata .
To the sun and to the moon, she can never be the same ;
Mumbai still remains the sweet Indian 'bom baim'