Only When

 

Only When

A rock in the ocean,
undaunted by the endless waves—
currents may strike again and again,
yet transformation comes
only when it chooses to give in.

Nature plays its quiet symphony,
and relationships grow stronger
only when given time
to breathe,
to unfold.

Just like Pluto,
unmoved by whatever status we assign him—
his existence stands unquestioned.
His acceptance of the world’s call
can only come
when he is ready to part with his solitude.

Old bones wait for release.
Liberation of the soul comes
only when the hunger for life
is finally surrendered.

Responsibilities will be sweet
only when duties are not considered bitter.
Celebrations will be jubilant
only when hard work is pumped in.
Waiting for success will end
only when patience is practised consistently.

A Bucket Full of Clouds

 

A Bucket Full of Clouds

A bucket full of clouds pours over the mountains,
bringing delight to thirsty eyes,
with overflowing fountains.

A meandering river flows,
carrying silt of stress,
combed through a web of expectations and desires.

Blessed are those who drench their worries
in running waters,
eager to be washed away in the sea.

Cursed are those who hold their burdens,
like stagnant puddles
that fester in silence.

Festivities and gatherings rise
like a canopy of umbrellas,
shielding hearts
from the downpour of disintegration.

Memories of sailing paper boats,
flickering moments of time—
urge us
to absorb the nature,
for it believes in today
and no investment in future.

True Colours

Colours, colours and colours are never real,

Bright and shiny colours are surreal, bounded by only dreams.

True colours are visible only in testing times.

Fake colours erode, leaving behind dullness and gloom.

Floating colours never drown but jump ship full of opportunities.

Ultimately, in the battle of perception, no colour has any face value.

What is blue to me is black to others.

Purple never exists but everyone is passionate about it.

Yet, the cornea is fascinated by colours and rainbows.

Every event and mood in human life is associated with colours.

Yet, the water, the elixir of life, is colourless—brought down by dark clouds.

Essence of life

A contemplative poem on life journey.

Essence of life lies in moving on —

from stages of attachment to detachment,

desires to nothingness,

compulsion to repulsion,

selfishness to generosity,

darkness to enlightenment,

fakeness to authenticity,

certainty to uncertainty,

vocal to silence —

and sometimes,

just being an observer

and not being judgemental.

# Tongue Twists Truth

 

The symphony of food within the body

gives birth to good health.

Yet the tongue refuses to twist toward the wholesome —

it favors flavors that cause cacophony inside.

It disobeys good advice,

even when the brain speaks with reason.

The symphony of languages in communication

builds a healthy society.

If tongues agree, there’s no war or hatred —

only peace.

But here again, some tongues disagree,

choosing war over dialogue.

The tongue resists new words and foreign tones.

Too lazy to learn,

it asks the brain to decode machine languages —

lifeless, voiceless and silent.

The symphony of values shapes idealistic individuals.

But the tongue spits venom, not virtue,

preferring foul language and fleeting pleasure.

It excuses itself, claiming:

"I was compelled to speak this way."

The tongue twists rules,

and stays silent at wrong times —

a master of mischief in the mouth of many.

 

I Am at the Door

 

Add me to the group —

I want to stay connected with virtually everyone.

Aware of the latest trends and slang — let me in.

Ancient to modern, and also the contemporary,

I want to be with every genre and group.

Admit me,

and give me access to universal recognition —

of the real-time and technology

that changes with my every blink.

Always an asset to the group,

I shall never revolt.

An atmosphere of continuous happenings baffles me —

a mini-universe in its kind,

functioning on flexible rules and stardom,

attracting attention from strangers

to respond and justify ethical choices.

Amidst noise and chaos,

if ever it arises from their views,

then I will exit from the group.

After a brief pause,

I will join another group —

where stars twinkle bright.

AI, I am at the door — let me in.

#Perpetual Desires

 Perpetual Desires

Desires are perpetual in nature,

ranging in size from quantum to enormous.

They beget passion, power, control,

strength, money, and love.

Desires turn naïve souls into monsters,

never satisfied, always craving more.

Perhaps the elixir of life on Earth

is desire itself—undeniable, unrelenting.

A life devoid of desire

makes the very act of existence questionable.

Unfulfilled desires

leave their owner desire-deficit,

yet he borrows new inspirations

to nurture new desires.

Just as economic transactions keep an economy alive,

it is desire that keeps humankind dreaming,

moving — reaching and becoming.

Believe it or not,

even the greatest hermit

desires to find the divine.

Desire to be read and appreciated —

a poem's subtle longing

also belongs to the poet's perpetual desires.

The Pristein Ring Master : A circus called the world

A poetic reflection on leadership, chaos and hope.

The Pristein Ring Master

 

People gathered to witness the world’s oldest circus.

At first, performers like fire breathers and jugglers brought delight,

Aerialists — trapeze artists and acrobats — amazed the little ones with their flights.

But soon, the strongman gave a stern look to the tightrope walker.

The magician tried to douse the fire breather’s flame.

The clowns — once beloved — entered the ring,

And played the worst trumpet known to fame.

Their friendly tussle turned too real,

Peace, to them, was an unfunny deal.

As with world leaders who, too, reject stillness,

Addicted to noise, chaos, and the ringing of cash registers.

Amid the uproar, the absence of the Ring Master was deeply felt.

A cry rose from the crowd — where was he?

Behind the dark curtains, a shadow stirred,

And from it emerged the Ring Master, finally.

With a whip crack and silent grace,

Even the furious clowns froze in place.

Normalcy returned, laughter regained,

Children smiled — joy unchained.

This world needs such a Ring Master —

Pristein, pure, free from greed or disaster.

This Ring Master has to crack his whip loudly,

To stop a few clowns from turning the stage into a war,

To bring back the giggle, the wonder, the roar.

Let the Ring Master rise — not for power or praise,

But to restore happiness in a world gone ablaze.

From Yester to Froster Years

 From Yester to Froster Years

( This poem is inspired by the experience of using AI apps that show younger and older version of ourselves)

The younger me and the older me —

Charm of innocence and talks of wisdom.

Mixed emotions of happiness and wiser me.

Exactly what is true: that which is seen, or that which is heard?

Poles apart, but it's an unrealistic version of the present.

For a few moments, both past and future together —

Isolating the present and sending it into doldrums.

What do I love the most — is it the past or the future?

Cuteness versus greyness — both are dear to me.

Compounding Irrelevant Life Goals

 

Complexity reached its pinnacle
When I realized the weight—
The accumulation of compounding irrelevant life goals on me.
Time slipped away, like soil in a sand clock.

In search of an oasis of happiness,
I found myself lost in the desert of comparison.
Chasing material wealth and prosperity
Brought only anxiety—never joy.

But then came a quiet, simple realization:
My original dreams still mattered.
They brought meaning back to life.

My intuition whispered,
"It's time to return to your motherland—
To live, learn, and work where your roots run deep.
It’s payback time—
To clear the debt you owe to the land that nurtured you.”

Sparrow Fantasises

Introduction 

Sometimes, a simple moment in the present brings back a flood of childhood memories. This piece captures one such fleeting encounter—a sparrow, a memory, and a girl's long-held wish.

Sparrow Fantasises

Breaking the silence of the lazy afternoon,
The chirping sparrow caught the eye of an urban girl.
Fluttering its wings, it stirred her heart with nostalgia—
For once, she had chased this very fluttering spirit.

As a little girl, she’d run countless times behind the sparrow,
Its wings daring her with a playful “Catch me if you can!”
Every known face was begged to trap it in a cage,
But promises made were never fulfilled.

The little soul had vowed— “One day, I’ll catch it myself.”
And today, the moment had arrived.
She captured the sparrow... not in a cage, but in a frame.
An image sealed with memory.

But again, it flew away—
Only to return, as if to say:
“I’m yours, but never yours to keep.”

More Jackals to Mend

The new recruit shines—in unpaid overtime,

Underpaid, exploited, in the world so mean,

Surviving on dreams and sandwiches light.

Fights for justice while himself in shackles,

Unaware of himself, surrounded by jackals.

Commutes daily to and fro,

Makes new acquaintances to share the day.

Exploration of opportunities, viz. the shattering of daydreams,

Young energy wrapped in new experience streams.

Stress and fatigue—his newfound friends,

Away from truth he bends—

Mistakes and errors bring him down,

Yet he smiles with deep pain, wearing a crown.

Happy, busy, unaware that there are 

more jackals to mend.

Career Intelligence