Monday, February 10, 2014

Simple Life

It's the simple life I crave.
Where the walls may be made of mud
But feel like a second skin.

Where the lights inside may be dim
But the room brightened by smiles.

Where the food may be simple
But always eaten together.

Where there is time
To love, laugh,live.

Where the rooms might be small
But feel warm and safe like a mother's womb.

Where the beauty of the stars
Is not stolen by a thousand lights.

Where mornings are not a rush
But a time to feel the warm sun

Where success and celebration means
Living together , always.

Where familiarity means
Knowing everyone by their names.

I crave the simple life
Where the window opens to green fields
And the door opens to hearts.

Where moments are cherished
And not captured.

Where days are looked forward to
And not counted.

Where life  means  love
And love means life.

Monday, February 3, 2014


What is bliss?
They ask me.
And I smile.
And shake my head.
Hey, tell us, they say
Why don't you share the secret?
We want to know.

And I tell them
When I lie down on my jute chair outside
When the evening is about to become night
And I can see my parents 
Playing with my son
And my wife looking for me
It is bliss.

When I sit for dinner
And my son is the center of attraction for my parents
Then when my wife comes and sits beside me
And smiles our private smile,
It is bliss.

It is bliss
When I watch my son
Relishing the same food as me.
It is bliss
When I see my father's youth
And my childhood
Through my son.

When my mother and my wife
Cry watching daily soaps
And me and my father share an irritated look,
It is bliss.

It is bliss
When my wife and sister
Share secrets like the best of friends
And when the night falls
It is bliss
When I know
That all the people I love in this world
Are right here with me.

It is bliss
When you know
The end of your day
Will be beautiful like this.

Saturday, February 1, 2014


An insanity engulfs me.
I feel
I have no more words to say
No more thoughts to smile
No more life to love.

But this moment passes.
And insanely,
I am suddenly filled with life
I look forward to the minutes
And meanings become clear.

Isn't it insanity
To live and die
At the mercy of my mind?

But then again
I wonder
Who is more quixotic.
The mind or me .

I wonder
Is it me
Or my mind
Who loves roulette.