Saturday, May 26, 2007

The endless wait

A long queue of your closed ones,
Waiting for you to give them some time...

With some, you talk over phone,
While I get a user-busy tone...

With some, you keep sending SMSs
While I wait for ONE reply to my endless messages...

With some, you take some time out for mailing
While I long to see your name in my inbox...

With some, you have your dinner and luncheon,
While I starve for your attention...

With some, you talk pleasantly,
While I get always wounded by your harsh words...

Will you ever see my tear-stricken face?
Will you ever hear the longing in my voice?
Will you ever feel my pain?
Why are you doing this to me?

You say, I am closest to you;
Yet, I am the one who is hurt the most!
What an irony!

I just want you to know
That I am still waiting for my turn
At the end
Of the queue of your friends,
Let's see what comes first,
My turn or my end!

It hurts!

Every word pricking!
Every line insulting!
Every sentence sarcastic!

How much ever you insult me,
How many ever times you embarass me,
How many ever times you ignore me,
Why do I still carry on with you?

I know why and you know it too!
The truth is:
You are free, but I am tied to you.
I am yours, but I know you may never be mine.

Yes, I will have to swallow everything
And remain calm
Because you know and I know
That I have nowhere to go...

The truth is:

You will never stop hurting me,
And I will always be with you and continue to live with these heartaches!

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Say Cheese! :-)

Oh smile! Where have you vanished?
Why have you ditched,
Our CresentMoon?
Come back soon! Come back soon!

Shashank, we want to hear
Your tinkling contagious laughter,
In your fourth and fifth gears!

We know what to do,
We’ll tickle you, tickle you!
And make you laugh
Till you say: "That's enough! That's enough!"

Laugh Mandu! Laugh!
Laugh till tears
Flow like rivers
Out of your eyes.

Laugh Mandu! Laugh!
Laugh even if the joke is a bore;
Laugh till you roll on the floor
Holding your tummy
And saying: "It's funny! It's funny!"

All we want from you
Is that same old evergreen sweet smile,
Back on your lips
With a promise that
The smile will be with you forever and ever.

Signed: Mastimakerz!

Why me?

I wrote something a long long time back... But today I experienced the same feelings that I felt when I wrote those lines. The past has revisited my life yet again!

Why does my heart flutter, when it hears someone break the silence of loneliness... of self-pity? Why does my heart feel that this someone will bring joy into my life... bring back all the fun and laughter that deserted me long back? Why does my heart jump with excitement whenever it sees a postman near the gate? It's longing for a letter. I know... a letter that would express that someone is thinking about me, someone feels for me and someone is missing me badly... who is this someone? Where is the letter? It was probably unwritten or written but undelivered... See, the heart stills hopes that such a letter was written but undelivered, when such a letter can never be written for me… I know, my mind knows, but who will tell that to my heart? No one has the guts to do that, not even me!!!

Why does my heart not understand that it’s hoping for the impossible to happen? After being ditched so many times, still it doesn’t want to believe that it has been ditched. My heart was broken many times into pieces and what about peace? Peace is not to be seen anywhere… how will my wounded heart heal… I know that it’ll leave behind a scar that will keep reminding me of my past… The past that’s over… but that’s still with us. If there were no past, there would be no present. But past is not like a present, a gift to me, it’s like a curse… a curse that clings to me… that saps the energy out of me till the end of my life… what is this life that I am leading? Where is my destiny? In this world full of hypocrites, I stand alone and have to face the life alone… it is a challenge, a challenge that I have to win… but how does one define the term victory? Is it winning over someone or let someone win over me so that their satisfaction and happiness becomes mine? I think that the second definition suits me better.

This world is full of selfish people… who are self-centered and think that being happy is getting what they want, they desire. I laugh at their ignorance. Happiness lies not in taking, not in grabbing what one wants, but it lies in giving, in sharing everything with others. Who will explain or can explain this simple thing to them? If I do that, they’ll surely ridicule me. They’ll call me crazy. Why am I so different from others? What others like… I don’t and what I like seems weird and strange to everyone. Is it just I in this world who’s like this? Or is each person different from others? Is there anyone who can answers my questions?

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Oh my friends!

Oh my friends!
I may behave like a stupid
Or act like one hit by cupid!
I may shout and scream at you,
Or hit you black and blue!

Whatever I do
Stick to me like glue!
Be by my side
Through times, good or
I need you, to share my joy and sorrow;
My victories and failures;
My dreams and aspirations;
My secrets and my embarassments.

Always with you, let me be
Never never never desert me!

Monday, May 21, 2007

Your Time Please...

I know, for you, I am not that important
But please for a moment,
My dearest dear
Lend me your ear.

Please don't say:
"I am very busy, Don't be fussy-fussy!"
And shirk me away.

Walk with me for a mile,
And listen to me for a while.
Your little time with me
And how pleased I'll be!

Let me meet you
not just in my fantasies...
Let's be together
not just in my day-dreams...
Let me be the centre of your attention
not just in my imaginations...

I beg you...
I plead you...
Let some time of yours, be mine
Let me feel precious for sometime.

Farewell to Swadeep

The time has come when we have to part
But don’t worry sweet heart.
We will never forget you
Also we will tell you what we request you to do.
Please keep in touch
For we will miss you very much.

With this we end
Our silly poem and send
Best wishes to you, our dearest friend.

Signed: Mastimakerz!

Best of Luck, Ganga and Yamuna

Oh! Little sheep
Get up as soon as the alarm gives a beep.

Oh! Bright moon
Get dressed up soon.

Oh! Brave tiger
Finish off your prayer.

Oh! Wise owl
Eat quickly from your bowl.

Oh! Naughty kothi
Receive best wishes from your Akka, Arathi.

Oh! Pretty duck
Wish you best of luck.

Oh! Little hen
Don’t forget to take an extra pen.

Oh! Chirpy cricket
Don’t forget your hall-ticket.

Oh! Clever lamb
I know you’ll do well in your exam.

Oh! Beautiful flower
You’ll surely pass your exams with flying colours.

Peace of Mind

It was in the middle of May
That I had a tiresome day.
So, I went to the sea
Which warmly welcomed me.

I sat there on the beach
Out of reach
Of the graceful waves,
Which swept into the rocky caves.

Then I lay on the sand near the sea,
Allowing the waves to touch me.
I closed my eyes
And felt very nice.

At last I was able to find
Some peace of mind.

A Little Flower Opened My Eyes

“Oh! Little flower in the garden,
Where were you before you came into my hand?”

“I was in a little garden,
Looked after by a beautiful maiden.
I grew on a rose tree,
Where I was free,
To sing and dance
And prance.

“The maiden loved me very much.
I could say that from her soft touch,
The sight of me would fill her heart with pleasure,
Which none could measure.

“I also had a friend, Mr. Bee,
Who would sing a sweet song to me.
Then I would reward him with a quarter
Of my nectar.
He would take it to his house,
Which pleased his spouse.

“It was my pleasure
To entertain them at leisure.
I used to be very glad
Until the maiden brought a lad,
Who plucked me and my brothers and sisters,
To make a garland for unknown masters.

“The lad was simply mad,
To separate me from my Mom and Dad.
My brothers and sisters are all dead,
I am also on my deathbed.”

Suddenly the flower gave a weak roar
And I knew it was no more.
Unable to bear the sorrow,
On the morrow,
I made a promise
Which I’ll never dismiss.

The promise is that
I will never pluck
A flower from a plant or tree
Because, that is where the flowers are free,
To sing and dance
And prance.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007


The eyes had a tiny spark
That lighted my heart.

They reflected his every thought as clear,
As any reflection in the mirror.

This is what the eyes convey:

When he winks, He is joking.
When he rolls his eyes, he thinks I’m lying.
When he blinks, he wants me to blow out a speck from his eye.
When he closes his eyes, he is dreaming about me.
When he just stares at nothing, I know he is thinking.
When his eyes are full of tears, I know he is missing me.

I owe to his eyes everything,
For being my friend,

And help me comprehend the mysterious him.

A Day at CMC

As the Postnett Bhavan comes into view, one looks at the watch for a second time. Oh no! It’s late again! While rushing into the building, a quick decision has to be made: whether to wait for the lift or to take the stairs? Either of the two ways takes the same time to reach the 4th floor, the only difference being, the one who has taken the stairs will be slightly out of breath.

At the entrance, there is a never-ending hunt for a pen and finally the security person obliges in lending his own pen. We grab the Sierra Atlantic register and quickly scribble our names. Then we glance at our watch as well as the wall clock for putting down our entry-time. Whichever shows a time before 9:30 that one is entered into the register. You may ask, “What happens if both the watch and the clock show a time that is after 9:30?” the answer is very simple. We enter 9:30 or 9:25! Who likes to say that they are late!

After mumbling a “thanks for the pen!” to the security guard, we rush into the institute. We are not sure whether our batch-mates will be in the lab or in the classroom. While we enter the corridor that leads us to the classrooms, we hear the sound of laughter. So, we understand that the others are in the class. The instructor has not come yet. We heave a sigh of relief but that is short-lived. One of the pranksters in the class says, “Just now Syeda ma’am came. She asked the late-comers to come and meet her.” Oh! How can one believe this person! These people always try to fool others. One fine day when some thing really happens, everybody will think that it’s a joke and nobody will believe the truth.

The late-comers join the rest in cracking jokes and pulling each others legs. Suddenly the door opens. We assume that it must be our instructor, but no, it is the instructor of the adjacent class. “Don’t you know that there is class going on in the adjacent room?” he shouts. We keep mum until he leaves. Then slowly and steadily as the noise level increases, we produce mimic sounds of Hawkins and Prestige cookers to hush the class. All the sounds simply add to the noise. The sound that is most prominently heard is Shashank’s loud guffaws. When asked to reduce his volume, he says that he can’t help it!

Finally instructor enters the room. While he busies himself in booting the system and positioning the LCD projector, we settle down. The lecture is very interesting in beginning but as time progresses, the people start getting bored. Archana hasn’t had her breakfast yet again and she is damn hungry. Everyone keeps looking at their watches for every half a minute. Some of the batch members continue to pester their friends by giving missed calls or by sending stupid messages. During all this, Vanitha is probably the only person intently listening to the lesson. She even puts a number of questions for clarification.

When the break is declared at last, a dash is made to the canteen. If something is not present at the canteen platform, Karthik enthusiastically takes the initiative to remind (reprimand) the canteen staff! Most of them drink tea while Pradeepa is simply interested in the biscuits. Three or four helpings of them, is quite common for her. But the best part is of it that she shares it with everyone. If this continues, one fine day there will be a notice saying, “Biscuits not given to employees of Sierra Atlantic!”

Archana is teasing Karthik while I try to drink tea without spilling it. We all are rolling laughter listening to the experiences of Karthik’s so-called friend. Once in a while Sphurty keeps saying, “Entiiiiiiiiiii….?” with a questioning look on her face. It is very funny to watch the way Swetha keeps pulling Sphoorty’s legs and the way Sphoorty in turn ineffectively tries to hit back Swetha.

Madhavi is trying to keep her cell phone away from prying hands. If anyone enters the PIN wrongly thrice then the cell gets locked. This is the very reason why the others want her cell! Once her temper is aroused, she will call others not by names but by ----- (dashes). So better not irritate her. Especially Karthik has to be extremely careful, if he wants his ears to be safe and sound!

Soon one of batch mates tells us that our sir is waiting for us in the class room and we reluctantly leave the canteen. Post-break session seems to be going faster. While the lecture is going on, I turn around to find Swadeep clutching his stomach and struggling to control his laughter. One look at Shashank or Karthik tells me that it is one of their jokes again. I assume that Karthik was imitating Gayatri as usual. When I look at him, he says, “Be confident and ask doubts!”

Halfway through the session Archana gets a call. She asks me to bend and block her from the instructor’s view and then answers her phone. Immediately she starts coughing non-stop. She takes permission to go out and drink some water. As she takes her mobile along, everybody assumes that she bluffed the cough. At the same time, Sir also excuses himself to meet someone outside the class. He catches Archana talking over phone and Archana quietly comes into the class room. Her cough was real, but as she was caught over the phone, now she can’t even cough in front of our instructor. She tries her level best not to cough till it is time for lunch.

Pradeepa has got an orange with her. She insists that she hasn’t flicked it from the canteen. But there is no proof for that! While the instructor teaches, she is busy peeling and eating orange. She is feeling so drowsy that even when she squeezes the orange peel into her eyes, she can’t keep it open, not even for a second!

It’s lunch-time. We are thinking whether to eat at CMC or outside. Swadeep and Shashank want to eat out, while the others forcibly pull them into the canteen. They reluctantly sign the register at the counter and take their plates. The food is not that good and they find every chance to point this out. They blame us for having to eat such rotten stuff. Shailaja gets a call from Sai, her fiancĂ© and the others scream so loudly that she can hardly hear what Sai’s saying. Everyone wants her wedding to be on Saturday or Sunday, but she keeps telling that only the punditji can decide on the date.

Swetha has her plate full of papads but still she takes one more from Sphurty. Shailaja needs some water but pours it on the table rather than in her glass! Gayatri asks the people who are not interested in having dessert to give their share to her. It is surprising that in spite of having so many helpings of the dessert, she does not put on any weight.

Someone orders for fruit salad. Names of so many fruits are mentioned for a single plate of salad that the person at the juice stall has a tough time understanding what is to be cut, whether to put salt or sugar and the list of doubts goes on. Orders for juice is also made with different instructions like no sugar, no ice… finally we hope that the guy does not forget to put fruit in the fruit juice!

After lunch there is rush for the mouth-freshener. Initially after the sugar-coated saunf got exhausted, we would have to be content with the ordinary saunf. But now we found out that the canteen staff refills the container after our favourite mouth-freshener gets exhausted. So we have it to our heart’s content!

As we get up and move out of the canteen, the canteen fellow calls us and points us to the empty tumbler and a bowl. Oh God! When will Karthik remember that it is self-service! He always needs an assistant to put his disposable tumblers in the trash and to put his saucers and cups near the sink.

Right after lunch, we are asked to practice in the lab. We spend the time chatting away. Some guys are busy talking over phone while others are busily sending messages. There are some others who surf the net. Once in a while our sir comes. During that time we pretend to work. We get into the mood of work only when it’s time for tea-break! The more engrossed ones stay back in the lab where as we go to the canteen.

Someone decides to play a prank on Pradeepa, but as long as her best friend Gayatri is around, they cannot do anything as Gayatri never ditches her best friend. Swetha is busy chatting with her friend Swetha. Pradeepa is savouring her favourite Monaco biscuits. Shashank is commenting on Pradeepa’s reaction to any Hindi joke.

Meanwhile someone has lost something: either their mobile or specs. And none of us are sure whether it’s a prank or it’s the truth. We can’t even believe the person who claims to have lost his/her thing as that person himself/herself may be trying to fool us. Finally the lost item is found in one way or the other. The fun continues till we leave the canteen. We are now made to listen to a theory session.

Though none of the members are interested in listening to anything, we still calmly sit through the session. His monotonous voice sounds more like a lullaby. Already one or two of the listeners are fighting to keep their eyes open. Meanwhile Karthik asks us to see Pradeepa. “Why?” we enquire. He replies, “Pradeepa is looking very fresh. She has just got up from sleep!” The instructor also observes this and concentrates totally on the first row of students. Madhavi asks a number of questions that make us more impatient, for, everyone is waiting for him to finish as soon as possible so that we can go home. But to our bad luck we are supposed to sit and practice whatever we have learnt during the day.

We drag ourselves to the lab. We have hardly sat there for a couple of minutes when the first batch gets ready to leave. We are also tempted but the load of pending work seems heavier than ever. We sigh and continue with our work.

As the clock strikes six we all rush out of the institute. Somebody presses the lift button while the others take turns in filling the register. We see that the ones who’ve left behind have entered 6:30, a time when they assumed the others would leave. We fight back to urge to change their exit time to 5:30. So, the wrong time is entered not only during entry but also during exit!
Finally the lift door opens. The lift, instead of taking us down, takes us till the top floor and then on the way down stops at each and every floor. Finally when we reach the ground floor, we wish good-byes and part for the day.

Home..Sweet Home.

I am in front of the place that used to be my home but now it’s not my home any more. I still keep my head down as though I have done some shameful act. “I cannot face this place, I cannot get into this house,” I tell myself. In spite of it, I can’t help opening my eyes. I half-expect my grandpa’s head peeping out of the window. “Don’t be a fool!” I tell myself, “He is not with us anymore. He has gone so far that he no one can get him back.” I open the creaky gate and get into the compound. I look around. There are dry leaves and weeds in the garden that once used to be full of flowers. I feel like taking a broomstick and cleaning the place. But no… it’s not my home anymore!

While coming back from office, there are days when my feet take me directly to this home of mine. When I see the locked gate, I realize that I have come to the wrong place, that this is not my home anymore and that I have to go to the house that is supposed to be my home. I have to get used calling the house my new home. And this… this is not my home anymore! There is a lump in my throat.

“What are you waiting for? Get in”, says my uncle. I reluctantly get into the house. I am shocked to see cobwebs and spider webs everywhere. I shoo away the mosquitoes that are eager to suck my blood. Everything is covered with a thick layer of dirt and dust. “Is this the same place where I grew up?” I ask myself. With none around to care take, the whole place has got ruined. I can hear my heartbeat echoing through the empty rooms. Or may be its all my imagination… The house seemed to be moaning and wailing to me. It seems to be pleading, “Don’t leave me and go!” “I can’t stay!” I reply loudly. I am scared of hearing my own voice. “I don’t have a sore throat then why is my voice so croaky?” I ask myself.

I open the cupboard to see if there is anything to be taken to my new home. I see couple of old tattered letters all belonging to my grandpa. I give it to my uncle. He says, “What will I do with these? Throw them in the trash.” I can see “Dear Nagan” in my grandpa father’s handwriting. Grandpa liked his father call him by that name. A lot of memories flood my mind and continue to stare at the letter.

“Be quick! There isn’t much time,” says my uncle. Yes there isn’t much time before this entire house will get pulled down. But why? Why should this house be demolished? Because uncle does not have enough place for his family. Why not build another floor on top of this? No! He thinks that the vaasthu of this house is not good. No one knows how to convince him.

I keep the letters on the floor and continue to check the cupboard for my things. I find Grandpa’s medicines at the bottom of the rack. These were the medicines that soothe his pain and gave him relief from the fatal cancer that he suffered from. “You are of no use now!” I tell the tablet strip, “grandpa doesn’t need you anymore.”

Uncle is busy dismantling our grandpa’s cot. I wonder if the house will also be dismantled in the same way… first the fittings and fixtures…then the doors and the windows… then the probably with a couple of blows from the bulldozer, the entire thing will come down. I shudder at the thought. Grandpa, if you had been alive now, none of this would have happened.

“Shall I take this with me?” I ask my uncle pointing to Grandpa’s shaving kit. It had the old-fashioned razor, two blades and the brush.
“What will you do with it?” he asks me.
“I don’t know. But it’s thatha’s. How can I leave it here?”
“Think logically,” says uncle impatiently, “After your grandpa’s death, till now, you did not see this. That means you don’t need this. Why do you want to accumulate trash?”
“Trash? How can you call this trash?” I said, trying hard to control my temper.

Everything cannot be seen and understood in a logical manner. There are things that do not involve any logic or reason. We cannot program everything and feed it to the system and say so-and-so follows this logic and can be solved in this manner. If everything were analyzed and understood in this manner then there is no difference between a human being and a machine. Seeing my temper raise, my uncle leaves the house and goes to meet our neighbor. Once he is out of my sight and I feel much better.

Still clutching to the shaving kit, as if it were my lifesaver, I walk around the house, feeling the walls, doors and windows. I realize that there is so much of me that is attached to this house that I cannot take everything away from it… not now… not ever. I hug the walls and lovingly run my fingers through the window sill. There are so many memories, some sweet, some sour, associated with this house. I almost burst into tears but control myself. Each and every nook and corner of this house is related to some memory. “How can I ever leave you and go?” I tell the house, “But I have to.”

I get out of the house into the compound. My eyes fall on the front steps. Those were the steps were I used to sit and read my favorite novels. That was where I would study during the nights for my exams. That was where I used to sit and enjoy the sunsets, the rain, the twilight… I look around the place, which was supposed to be the garden. I remember the days when I would help grandpa pluck the weeds and tend the plants. With the gardener gone, the garden was also withering. I look back at the house. It seemed like a dying creature to me… a creature that did so much good to us… it sheltered during the hot sunny days, during the chill winter and through the rough monsoons… it was right there before I came into this world… but now it will be brutally murdered and battered to death! I sigh. What can I do? I can do nothing except wait and watch! I feel so helpless.

Oh God! Let this be a dream… a nightmare… let me get up and feel that the entire thing is a dream… Grandpa, please wake me up and take me into your arms, as you would do when I was upset… I used to feel so secure and happy when you were with we have been separated by life and death… I shirk away those thoughts and tell myself again and again that this is reality… we cannot change it… we have to adjust to it. I fight back my tears yet again.

I climb up the stairs and get onto the terrace. This is the place where I played bow and arrow with my grandpa, the same place where I used to pluck jasmine flowers along with my grandma. Now the jasmine creeper is not there. Probably it preferred to die rather than to be killed by someone else. I remember the nights when I used to come up to enjoy the moonlight… the days when I would gaze at the stars… I see the tall buildings around the house, penetrating and reducing the visibility of the horizon. This place will probably be one amongst them in a year or two. I just hope that I will not be in Hyderabad to see it.

While getting down the stairs, the rusted hand-pump catches my eyes. There were days in summer when it was the only source of water to us. When we were in need of it, it was there to help us… but now I hear the hand-pump cry, “Please don’t go!” but i turn a deaf ear to it.

It’s time to leave. I lock the gate and get into the car. When we are about to turn around the corner of the street, I turn around and see the two coconut trees swaying. They seem like waving to me and wishing me goodbye!

Soon, there will be a bungalow there. Everything will change… but memories of my home will haunt me forever.

Only for you

The following poem is dedicated to all those special people who are dearest to my heart.

The blooming of flowers,
The flowing of rivers,
The swaying of trees,
The humming of bees,
And every part of the nature art
Say that I have a special place for you in my heart.

The sun rises over the hills,
The earth is bright with the light it fills.
The beautiful waves that are formed on the pool,
Make my mind very cool.
And the vast sky blue,
Says that I always remember you.

The singing of the nightingale,
The grandma’s book of tales,
The old sweet memories
Wipe away all my miseries.
The sound of the waterfalls
Says that I want to see you all.

At night, the twinkling stars in the sky,
Make my heart fly,
Kindling the memories that pass by
To make a new start
Oh! My sweet heart
This is true
That I love you.

Horrible Pests

A house full of mice
Is like a town, full of spies,
Inspecting a criminal case
At a very critical phase.

There miserable creatures,
With frightening features,
Run all over the place,
Especially the empty space.

Mice in the kitchen,
Tearing at the roasted chicken,
Mice in the cellar,
Trying to open the pickle jar.

Breaking dishes and plates,
And reaching all the boxes and crates,
Ripping the quilts and mattresses,
And ripping at the dresses.

Crawling under the tables and chairs,
And climbing up the stairs,
Creeping under the bed,
Over the carpet-red.

Oh! What a mess they’ve made!
This is the result of their sickly raid,
Oh God! Is there no one to help us
To clear away all this mess?

There is no pied piper to blow the pipe
And try to wipe
These horrible pests,The uninvited guests.

The Full Moon Night

The night brightened by the full moon,
Was a great boon
To me who sat outside in the night,
To watch the beautiful sight.

The soft cool breeze,
Blowing through the trees,
Reduced my tension
And gave me relaxation.

I sat there counting the stars in the sky,
Avoiding the passers-by,
Who were walking down the lane
And were looking at me as though I were insane.

Suddenly, I heard the song of a lark,
And the sky became very dark,
A black cloud covered the moon,
And soon…
It began to rain,
I stood there in vain
Hoping that the rain would stop,
But, it did not, so, I made a skip and a hop
Into my room,
Saying ‘good bye’ to the moon.
Hoping to see him next night,I wished him ‘good night’.

This is life!!!

In the journey called life,
People meet to part ways,
And they give us sweet memories
To make us restless in our loneliness.

Will the beautiful ever listen to our hearts?
They should start realizing that
They hold the fate of their admirers.
They steal our hearts and ditch us
They innocently destroy us, their worshippers.

Who ever falls for them,
Gets great sorrow and miseries
Yet we are ready to
Give our hearts to these charmers.

No life without you

I don't have any knowledge of
How much love is present in my heart for you,
But all that I know is that
There is no life without you.

I have seen many
Leading their life with broken hearts.
How do they live?
For every day seems an age for me.
I don't have any idea
How long this wait will be.
But all that I know is that
There is no life without you.

When someone else feels for you,
My heart aches.
It takes a long time for my heart
To calm itself.
I don't know
Why my heart is restless,
But all that I know is that
There is no life without you.

So much yet so little

I have so much to say.
Yet like a stone I lay,
When you pass by my way.

At times, we chat for long
And sing many a song.
Yet there is so much left unsaid,
A lot more unheard.

I sigh,

As we call it a day.