This will never be enough

those laptops
and those cellphones.
those screens
and those fingers.
those five minutes
and those five hours.
where happiness pokes my heart
and where i can sing out loud.
those songs of springs
and those winter snowfalls.
those fresh gushes of your fake-cute anger
and my stupid-stale attempts at flirting.
those keyboards,
and those numerous keys to press.
those combinations of laughter
and those awkward silences.
those words we share,
and those colorful wings my thoughts get.
I don't need any other color
and I don't need any other brush.
I don't need those far off fairy lands
and I don't need those heavens.
as we talk more and type more,
those words become lines
and those lines become stories.
those past thirteen years
and those many more to come.
it has been so long
but this will never be enough.

Birthday of a Poem

Birthday of a Poem

She opens her eyes some days rubbing her eyes,

On soothing 9am mornings laden with birds and dew.

Lying beside those distant blurred stars,

With some precious and escaping thoughts.

Her soul, entwined with dancing steps,

Soars up rocket high and she holds her breath.

She imagines a world on her own terms and her own life,

Shipped to a time across the endless seas.

Her morning voice is like a happy poem, 

Woven by the impatient sky,

That dips the whole world in rain.

In those familiar silent passages, 

Smiles falling from her amber face.

And on her favorite cloudy days,

There’s a crescendo rising up inside her.

And just then like a forgotten habit, 

She mimics the fluttering window curtains, 

And laughs while listening her self-composed tunes.

She clenches on some hope and her fingers harrow her hair,

Her thoughts go back in time - the forgotten school days.

Ploughing the memories she calls her best friends,

She asks, “Why does winter freeze and summer scorch?”

“Why does every day we have to go class?”

For a blink, an unfathomable confusion covers their chin,

And then cold winds caress her dizzy eyes.

Humming and singing each song she listens,

And reciting every word she remembers each incident.

Past memories are well-cherished and ivory white, 

Where I take my words and pass by sometimes.

Then she spreads her wings and thinks of the future, 

It stirs her heart with mixed gloom and glee.

Now for few next moments, everything becomes a memory.

She feels a bit alone with her lost soul, 

 Swimming in a small and closed fishbowl.

She continues driving, headlights focused high,

Stops by a 23-years milestone and she asks some questions. 

Anything, someone, something, anyone?

Where are the answers and who would answer them?

She looks at her phone and it’s getting late,

Puts on her pink dress and favorite yellow shoes.

As she walks out, she gazes into time transfixed.

Old friends come forward to shake their wrinkled hands, 

And it reminds her of the time when she was ten.

When even the exam were simple.

And everyone seemed her very own.

She turns again and takes a step forward.

Listening to the click clack of the just-stopped rain, 

She looks ahead and waves some goodbyes.

Suddenly many people call her name,

And it comes wrapped in melodies like a daily affair.

Each spring, winter, and summer,

She wears that same leafy and pink skirt.

It’s a happy time and she articulates the unknown,

She turns back and tells the world her favorite color.

She glitters all year in gentle sun,

Like a bird sprinkling sunshine mixed with rain.

It wets every open door and closed window pane,

And every inch of different empty rooms.

It’s once again 4am – a stupid and heavy night.

She’s standing in her balcony with sleepy eyes.

She has bought some empty boxes and filled them with herself,

She closes the packages and slips them out of the window.

I had bribed some dreams to chase them before,

And they were standing below her room,
 Fleeing from my deep sleep.

I wake up smiling and look at my phone,

And then I think, maybe, I’ll just write about her.

those seven days

Here's to those seven days.
The ones when we breathed same air,
When we looked in each other's eyes,
When I knew that you're around.
Here's to our love,
As love is the only thing we need,
As love is always enough. :*

whispers

Saying whispering hello,
To the heavy eyelid twins,
I think more about you.
This morning,
I'm cursing my brain again,
For not sending you to me,
In my dreams again,
Just like yesterday,
I open the windows of my room,
You feel nearby,
Like the morning dew.
Please,
Come closer to me,
And flow like a wind
From the north,
Thousand miles away,
Where you live.
Hit me strong and soft,
On my rough cheek.
While I glide upon,
A dead-end road.
Come inside me,
Like a glittering hope and
A mysterious asterisk.
At each night,
I think of your eyes,
A concoction of dearly love,
And our mutual infinite skies.
I took bath again,
But the insides of me,
Are still evaporating.
And rising some more,
With a swarm of desires.
Fighting with each other,
To come to you first.
My each thought rises,
But crash lands on Earth.
I dream of some bridges,
That I'll make soon.
And I'm growing aside,
Some islands too.
I want to be there,
Today, right now.
By your side.
Holding your hands,
Erasing some marks,
And wrinkle of troubles.
Then I think some more.
About those seven days,
And those million moments,
That make "us".
I waited a lifetime,
For days like those.
Let's fly again,
Once more.
Making boats of clouds.
And sailing to see each other.
Let's smoke each other,
And drink some more.
Let's stop caring,
As this is love.
Let's love each other,
As we're in love.
You'll say some more,
And I'll laugh some more.
Let's hit the road,
On an infinite adventure,
Between the dusks
And some dawns.
We'll find hidden in its lap
A happy ending,
Back to "our" new found home. 

कुछ जानी पहचानी किरणों की
चादर लपेट कर,
तुम्हारी याद आई थी आज सुबह.
मेरी तरह,

मेरी अलसाई हुई पलकों का भी मन था,
कि फोन में तेरी तस्वीर देख लूँ एक बार.
पर कल रात भर बात कर के,
डिसचार्ज पडा था बगल में.
मन मार के उठा था मैं बिस्तर से,
कल रात की तुम्हारी हँसी.
अब भी करवटें ले रही है मेरी यादों में,
मन ही मन मुस्कुराते हुए,
मैने रेडियो ऑन कर दिया.
याद है तुम्हे वो पिछली सर्दी की रात,
जब मैं वापस कॉलेज जा रहा था,
और मेरी ट्रेन कैंसेल हो जाई थी.
बहोत मन था तुमसे मिलने का उस बार,
पर हिम्मत नही जुटा पाया था कहने की.
दो रातें हमने कितने ही गाने सुने थे.
उन गानों के बहाने,
मैने ओर तुमने,
कितनी ही अनकही कही थी.
बिना मिले ही तुमसे,

बहोत पास लग रही थी तूम.
यहाँ पर,

ज़्यादा हिन्दी रेडियो स्टेशन नहीं हैं,
फिर भी अच्छा लग रहा है सुनके.
कई दिन हो गए हैं,
कुछ लिखे हुए तुम्हारे लिए,
गाना भी तो नही आता हमें,
कि कुछ किसी ओर का लिखा हुआ

सुना दूं गा के.
फिलहाल "हमारा" गाना आ रहा है रेडियो पर,
ओर इन्तेजार कर रहा हूँ मैं तुम्हारा.
जल्दी से आओ,

ओर ले चलो मुझे, ऐसी जगह.

जहाँ तू मुस्कुराए,

क्योंकी मेरी मंज़िल वहीं.

Adarsh Verma 

Sun won't rise early tonight

Sun won't rise early tonight

And I don't feel so alone

Peeling off each other's clothes

Touching your rain soaked skin

Sensual kisses in love's ocean

Precious warmth of bruising breaths

Tangled fingers are hard to separate

Hive of of our desires is very deep 

Lying naked and one, we are numb

I succumb to you and your every being

Sharing love, I'm lost in your eyes,

My endless love rests on your petals

Your sweet surrender says it all

My hands trace your curves

Inside those same white sheets

I'll love with all that resides in me

Your sighs printed in my mind 

Sending chills up and down in my spine

I closed your eyes as they glide around 

Lost in symphonies and your reflection

Excitement and longing we share

And our body wants fulfillment 

Night's climax is nearer

My heart pounds and breath pants

Your lingering lips hum like a song

The kiss is last but passion still the same

- Adarsh Verma

ONE

Immature clouds, hovering above
In footsteps of my misfortunes,

Untuned guitars in the wild
Secreting aligned tones.

I walk unparalleled,
I walk out front. 

Each piece in anticipation,
Alone on anonymous turns.

It is an unsung winter,
Dissolute fog will dilute everything.

Unwanted progeny of my mind,
Unsought inclination of my heart.

And it’ll be dawn at midnight,
Eternal, immutable, opulent and one.

NOT JUST ANOTHER YEAR

It was the year when things happened. It was the year when everything changed. It was the year when people held him in their arms and he counted their fingers with his miniature fingers. It was the year when his memory became something more than a tool to pass exams, the exams which were nothing more than a signal that another year in the school was going to end. It was the year when he was told that it’s not okay to sleep till late in the morning even on Sundays because doing that would make him an idiot. It was the year when his English tutor stopped teaching him because of some reason he didn’t know, the person who recited poems and quotes with fat and expensive words, and at the end of the class his tutor played mouth organ for him.It was the year when his memories shed away beautiful adjectives and started making new and sad and weird friends. It was the year when he stopped considering god as an option because a person very dear to him almost lost everything and he wished he could burn the clichéd and careless sentences of people, the people who loved to say, ‘it’s god’s will.’ It was the year when being told by his mother that he was the smartest and sweetest boy in the world and she’ll always love him wasn’t enough. It was the year when he realized that understanding the perception of other people was as much as important as understanding his own, and which was incidentally proving to be very challenging.  It was year when he started feeling a sense of fear in speaking what he had in his mind because he realized that not everything should be said, some things are better unspoken even though it would give him sleepless nights. It was the year when he knew that money existed as the strongest force in the world and people adored you or maybe just pretended to hurt themselves and their cheek muscles a bit by making smiling face to greet you if you were rich.It was the year when he read Harry Potter and loved it but couldn’t believe that magic existed and with a sense of victimhood he wished that if he could have read it some years earlier, he would have enjoyed it more. It was the year when he stopped playing his favorite sport because it became a way to make yourself look better than your friends, friends with whom he shared his lunch in school. It was the year when the stars started seeming brighter than the morning sun and he realized that constellations were a product of imaginations of happy people who fail to accept that a star so far away can exist alone. It was the year when he realized that he was growing up and it was okay to feel weird about certain things and eventually a lot of things. It was the year when the dreams he would remember in the morning would fall through derisive cracks of the daylight hours but he would still fabricate plans all night and get ready to render the endless each day and every day.It was the year which was worth skipping and he wished that he had the choice to do so. It was the year when he met her. And it was the year when he lost her. It was the year when he started writing and he started sitting nearby the dewy windows and the layers of the outside world and the pungent confusion of his mind became the ink of his pen. It was the year when things happened. It was the year when everything changed.

NOTHING INTERFERES

I saw you coming through these door-cracks. 

I listened the whispers of your smile.

I painted the way this heart elucidated my fingers. 

You saw my articulation and again smiled. 

That was the day my world changed its shape. 

That day I created my masterpiece.

Then I looked down on the opaque floor, 

I saw our reflections, they overlapped. 

Each morning I woke up with a smile. 

Each day I lived my dream.

But, 

Everything changes and everything changed. 

My shadow burnt and unicorn in disguise. 

Your calm light still rained, 

But seemed insipid without our consent. 

Someone shot the bullet, I saw it coming. 

People laugh and people laughed. 

Fabricated a baseless vision, they said. 

But, I knew it was a test, all I needed was you.

I believed in my love, you kept me strong.

I still close my eyes and I hear your songs.

I always find you close, closer than ever. 

Nothing interferes as we're entrained together.

REMINISCENCE

It was the year 2014 and it rained like Gatsby’s love. Retro, intense, unique and elegant. I’ve witnessed it since the start. I’ve seen your heart painting an involuntary smile on your face when his message came on your phone and I heard that lovely Mockingjay whistle. I’ve seen that eagerness in your eyes and worry in your words when you waited for his reply or call. Lots of days I’ve witnessed your love through the windows of your words and most of them were accompanied with a mild wind of happiness which would wet and blur the windows of sadness all around. You both drenched themselves for days but the rain never stopped. I witnessed it from a distance with an umbrella and smiled in amusement. It makes all the sense now why you people didn’t even need an umbrella back then, you just had each other and each other’s arms. I don’t know and remember much about your first official date but I know it involved few things- two cups of coffee (maybe ice-tea), trembling hands, beating hearts and hesitant words off two hesitant lips. He wanted to remember each moment and you wanted to live every next one with him. Climbing, falling, scared, again falling and again climbing- such were your thoughts and such is your journey. But one thing remained intact throughout- your love and his commitment, your excitement and his calmness, your never ending cheerful talks and his gaze at you in astonishment. You flew together and you've met some hailstorms too, Clouds rained cheerfully very often and sometimes lightening occurred too. But you both flew strong and you’ve defied every doubtful thought. I’m a tiny-little-small bit proud of myself, for all the pushes I gave you to move ahead with him in the start. I did that because I saw you happy in true sense and imagined my own fantasy love story coming true. Today you looks happier than ever and more beautiful than any other day. Both of you are the star-crossed lovers of my life and you’ve  finally ended up together.

THE OBSESSION CYCLE

I will dance to these dense, azure and somewhat friendly flames, and I will bury my eyes in water looking for something precious underneath. Soon my wings will start burning and it will be difficult for me to breath inside water, those cries for help will be reciprocated with ignorance. I will dance once again with a faintest ray of hope, till an imperceptible twinkle will start leaving my body and it will eventually scar people around me. This fake manifestation of dreams won’t last long and I will be teleported to a lonely place very soon. The obsession which was created by my brain and nurtured by my heart, will leave through my tongue when I will call that name for the last time and after that nobody will hear it again. This won’t be written in big-ass history books but this will be remembered by some, the ones who have seen and understood the meaning of my damaged smiles. The dark and unfurnished wood beneath my clothes won’t melt like wax, instead it will guide some nightmares and those nightmares will hunt my future sleeps. I will pass some winters in hibernation and I will save myself from sun for few upcoming summers. But it won't end like this, it just can't. Someone will once again very carefully pinch my arm and I will become someone else’s unicorn. Once again the word obsession will be suckled beneath my skin through injections of affection. At last, as a confirmation, my phone will blink and a message will be displayed- "Congratulations, you've did it again!"

                              ...this cycle repeats over and over again

SOMEDAY

Someday,

I will build a sweet landscape

And ditch my bitter hallucinations.

Everything I’ll create,

Will be far away from this earth.

I will take your hand and
As soon as we'll depart,

I will call upon some poems.

Not a dozen, just a couple.

One for you and

Another one again for you,

Obviously.

I will pour a million stars,

In a glass of wine,

Brewed with laughter and musings.

I know you will fear,

Some birds will chase us,

And some will chase us for days.

But, I will drive fast.

Maybe I’ll fly in style,

If you’ll help me grow some wings.

And then I’ll speak some more.

If you'll insist,

I’ll try to sing, to make you laugh.

But, I will turn away my face.

And I’ll be laughing the whole time.

I will turn on the TV,

And we’ll watch movies.

Not too many, just one or two.

Your favorites will be my favorites,

Obviously.

Suddenly I’ll be silent

And I’ll look into your eyes,

I’ll search for my face

And I will see your face. 

I’ll love to get lost in them,

But I won't leave you alone.

I know you’ll be there with me,

I’ll be there too.

You and me, dancing.

Beneath your yawning eyelids,

And behind your playful eyebrows.
Everywhere.
In our dreams and in the daylight reality.

If you’ll feel cold,

Or you’d wish to see the earth,

We’ll come back to earth.

We’ll travel together,

Touching the wind

And plucking the yogurt clouds.

Maybe we’ll spend a week

Or the whole winter below.
We will wake up from a good sleep,

The sun will greet us

And it will be our friend again,

Then I’ll craft a boat.

The way you’ll want it to be,

Obviously.

We’ll sail once again.

Back to that landscape,

Or maybe to a new city.

Wherever you’d say,

But far away from this earth,

Someday.

Adarsh can also be found on fossBytes.com

THE PROPOSAL

He whispered, “I love you”

And kept the phone down,

She danced all night, wanting to reciprocate,

It’s been two years, she hasn't heard from him.

Apparently, in his universe, love was just another word.

THE EULOGY

Nearby dewy window, 
He inked a mellifluous letter and plucked some flowers.

She never came, 
But flowers still matched her scarf and 
The letter bloomed as her eulogy.

THE REVENGE

He begged his slayer, to spare his life,

The white tiger unheeded his plea,

To avenge the death of its family,

They hunted to make a fancy rug!

Sigh, at that spell, he was the entire human race!

THE MORNING AFTER!

She slept a doll,

And woke up a woman

The insipid reality awaited her,

They said, He would be her reverence.

The god, sanctified her,

That morning Blood adorned her dress.

LET’S DRIVE THEM CRAZY!

                                         

“Unjust laws exist: shall we be content to obey them, or shall we endeavor to amend them, and obey them until we have succeeded, or shall we transgress them at once?”

― Henry David Thoreau

Not just unjust, at times laws can be amusing too, one such law exists in Saudi Arabia- Apparently Saudi Arabia bans it’s women from getting behind the wheel. As bizarre as it may sound, half of the population of this ultra conservative gulf country is denied the right to drive a vehicle, which in a bigger picture, is a right to move on their own. For a fact, it is the only country in the world to have such restriction. The highways of the kingdom have not seen female drivers since time immemorial.

Before going any further, let’s talk about the origin of this peculiar custom, The ban shoots from the ruling family's Wahhabism, a stern interpretation of Islam that requires women to get permission from a male caretaker not only to drive but get married, travel, work, and go to school. There is “no single Islamic text” or judicial ruling prohibiting women from taking to the kingdom’s highways. Seemingly there is no such official law in the country, but those responsible for ruling the country have time and again denied licenses to women and thus culminates this weird custom.

Think of a situation of a woman whose husband is at work , there is no driver at home and some emergency demands her to go out, Now , there would be nothing that could cause more inconvenience than this trivial law , Apparently  laws were enacted for convenience of the subjects only in the text books. 

For the brave souls who dare to defy, the road ahead is not easy.  If caught driving, Women are required to sign a pledge, saying that they won’t drive again, a second violation means signing another pledge and waiting for a male relative pick them up. Whoever picks them up has to; also sign a pledge saying that they won't let the women drive. What makes the situation worse is the provision for penal punishment which may extend up to ten lashes, for an act of driving on the streets.

Recently a petition has been filed in the gulf country to lift the ban for women getting behind the wheels. The petition also encourages women to flout the kingdom’s driving ban. Those breaking the rules have been asked to post pictures of themselves driving, using social media like Facebook, twitter and Instagram , The movement has garnered significant attention from all over the world. The mindset of the people has been changing, In few of the pictures posted online by the ladies driving, the passersby are shown giving thumbs up and waves and such other gestures, to demonstrate their support to the movement, a lot of times even the traffic police is willing to let go of the women drivers, startlingly, a major proportion of the supporters consists of the male population.

The other day, while shuffling T.V channels I came across an interesting piece of news on the issue. One of the women from Saudi Arabia, being interviewed, on the T.V shared her dream of being able to drive a car in her home country, while dressed up as a lady and not a man.  "It's a silly daydream," she added, "but that's a fact. It's the reality of my society; I mean the daydream of a young girl should be how to get to the moon ... Not driving a car.” How true, only if those, male chauvinists out there were not deaf!

WHY WON'T THIS WORLD END

It was just another day

Or, another unfortunate day.

She waited for the bus with a friend.

The bus came,

But dressed like a coffin on wheels.

Six monster faces came out,

And took them away.

Christmas was near.

Seemed nearer in the crowded city.

Those animals on a rampage,

Lashed her cannibal whips.

They violated her body,

And raped her terrified soul.

She scratched and screamed,

Wasn't there someone outside?

Why would people want to bury her alive?

They threw her away,

On naked winter road to die.

Made her past over-sized,

Colored it dark black monochrome.

Present with painful anger

And a future of decomposed hopes.

Yesterday,
She opened her eyes in hospital,

Asked a question and then slept forever.

She asked, "What was my fault?"

Doctors heard, her parents heard and everyone else.

Her questioned still answered,

People decorating their homes

And buying cheerful lights and colors.

Still we will celebrate Christmases,

And wait for a blind Santa?

MY UNICORN

The needle is vibrating,
My piezometer is sighing.
Percussions.
Whacky and sophisticated.
Painting like a child, working random.
I'm filtering the tears.

It's unseen,
An uncontrolled unicorn playing a sweet parody.
Not revering to the expected,
Expecting the unexpected.
They saw a hooligan,

Met a geek.
Carving the impasto, the impeccable,

And working closely,
For a one off piece.
But,
What of them, the irresponsive.
I sighed alone,
They laughed in numbers.
Drinking the unfermented,
They,
Wearing the cloudy glasses,
Expected the unexpected.
They saw a sinner,
Met a saint.
Holding the grail,
And playing the gramophone,
My God on vacation ,
The end was near, it was December.
It was a false dawn,
Fallout.
Experiencing the quantum leap,
Digging the roots to infinite.
I reached the same, unfurnished room.
Her escaping shadows and scent,
Erasing me, were all around.
She was used as a bet,
And the Unicorn was caught,
He gave up.
And he said again,
"I deserve more."

 Adarsh can also be found on fossBytes.com

TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK

I looked up to the clock, five o’clock I counted. Its dials waved at me and digits said something too. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. Tick tock of time it was. They’ve witnessed and cremated several insanely happy hours and various poignant days. On some days this tick tock came bundled with hurt along with a pinch of unwelcomed and alienated twelve o'clock thoughts. And in that despicable moment you hated who you were. Or maybe, what you had grown into. This wasn’t what you had written on the back of your notebook at ten o'clock lunch in school many years ago. It wasn’t your face, which you couldn’t recognize after a grueling an hour long gaze into the mirror. Instead, this was the mask of time. This won’t stop chasing you and it won’t leave anyone else either. I look up to the clock once more. This is twelve o’clock again. But don’t be scared. Let me tell you this little episode of a couple of minutes. Some people across this desert have carved beautiful statues. Some are drenched in sweat. Some statues have stain of tears and some are dried by the time. The colors those people had were just grey and black. And the time they had was just a couple of hours. Maybe that wasn’t enough. But look what they’ve created. The glint in your eyes says that you like them and this story a bit. Can you imagine all this? Can you imagine all this as your story and you as the hero? You could be just the same. Inside you I see some dreams have lasted. Some fireworks are still to be played. And after all this tragedy, some friends are still unseen. An alarm has just started ringing somewhere. Maybe it’s your brand new cellphone. It’s eight o’clock. Wake up from this yawning sleep and swim towards the shore. Out of this bay of gloom there’s another world. Climb the stairs of tomorrow. The bright sun you liked has never been away. It’s been inside you, the whole time. And there’s another one just outside this tainted window. It’s just a couple of tick tocks away. A tick tock of time and a tick tock of courage.

Adarsh can also be found on fossBytes.com