The Vile loop of His

while He doesn't it will

{
"Thhatt!", "Phhatt!!"
"Rise, you bastard! RISE!!"
"GET UPP, will you!!"
And as soon as he,
With arched back, pulled himself to rise,
"THHAT!!", on the spine!
}

Crocodile tears


I cry, tears surprise me;
The hurt is fresh; but seems familiar.
I haven’t broken a limb:
My heart aches.

After a long, long while
Someone threw a rope down my cellar!
“Hurrah!” “Yippee!”
“I’m going to be free!!”
The rope broke as I was climbing.

Time rushes out of the window.
The killing is imminent.
Something tells me I can stop it.
“Yeah, I know all about that.”

But why crave I this escape?
Why is this a cellar?
Why do I need to be out in the light?

The screws tighten on me:
And catharsis once again numbs the fire.






Dhruv Raj Sharma
30.10.05
12:35 p.m.

(Yet another) Hurt, an OUCH, and the Sun


The bulb throws light on this tear-less face,
The back leans against a wall,
A grimace seems the only affordable exercise.

Who do I run to?
The consumer forum?
A court of law?
God?
My parents?
ha, ha!

It's eight times in a string.
WHY!
My ancestors were supposed to be exceptionally good, noble people!
:-) , :-)


It hurts, again!
Yet, again!
Had these been physical injuries, I swear I would not have been around.
But that's where the mind is so much more powerful;
So much more powerful –
I wonder if it knew that day itself,
When I woke up to find my finger bloody,
And a smashed mirror.

No. It's not the mind.
Nor the intellect.
Something beyond…
Maybe it's the soul… …the wise…
And, it asks me:
"Do you really feel sad when the Sun goes down?"





Dhruv Raj Sharma
11.03.2007,
20:43 - 21:05.

Badminton Raquets, Tea-totalling, and Pride

Badminton Raquets, Tea-totalling, and Pride

As I stand here by the window of my room, I see two children gleefully playing on the street. They seem to be playing badminton, but have no racquets; they have paper boards instead, with which they hit the shuttle to each other.

My heart thinks, "Could I not get them a couple of racquets? My people may not approve of it, but I could easily ask them the money for my self (not bringing the children into the scene). Yes. That's what I'll do. These children can hardly play with those boards. Racquets would make it so much easier."

But, my mind is set to work. "Is it they who need the racquets? Or is it me who needs to give it to them?"....

Morbid Narcissism would be an Understatement!

Meri zindagi mein kya rakkha hai, tumahri baton ke siva?
Mere zehen mein kaun si baat hai jo tumne nahi prerit ki?
Meri saanson mein kaun si mehek hai jo tumhe chhu kar nahi aayee?

Kaun ho tum?
Jeene kyon nahi dete mujhe, kya bigada hai tumhara maine?

Ek arsa ho gaya hai khud ko dekhe
Bas tum hi tum dikhte ho
Charon taraf ek dhooan sa rehta hai
Uss dhooein mein se tum dikhte ho.

Tum hansaa sakte ho, tum rula sakte ho;
Tum bol sakte ho, tum gaa sakte ho;
Unhein tumhari zaroorat hai, tum unke mohtaaj nahin
Duniya ne kam hi dekhe hain jo tum jaise kehlate hain.

Tum mujh jaise nahin ho.
Tumhari baatein, acchi buri, sab duniya sweekarti hai.
Un mukhdon ki muskan tumhare isharon par nachti hai.
Dutkara jaana kya hota hai tumhe kya maloom,
Uss duniya ke baahar to pair tumhaare pade hi nahin.

Dhooan badhta jaata hai, tum door hone lagte ho;
Chhatpatane ki harkat karta hoon, tum paas aa jaate ho.

Aaj haunsla tutne lagta hai,
Dil ke aansoo bikharte hain, sab simatne sa lagta hai.
Par ek lau hai jo, na jaane kyon, jalti rahti hai,
Aur mujhe yaad dilaati hai ki iss dhooen ke peeche
Ek aaeena rakkha hai.