If you value the power of what you can put in your pocket more than the affection of those that put you in their heart, you carry the risk of ending up with pickpockets who will love you, love that will leave you, and a lesson that you will learn in time not too far.



Sometimes you crack jokes to make others laugh,

sometimes you laugh at the jokes others crack on you,

sometimes you laugh at the jokes life plays on you,

and sometimes you laugh because that’s the only thing left to do.

Neither is easy, but they all tell so much about you.

The Circus

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So you know him well
And can even predict
The responses
To the actions you feed
The stimuli you give
And the games you play
Your muddy intentions
To put the onus
The burden and the blame
Of your own faulty steps
That you yourself can’t carry
So you rely
On your intimate knowledge
Of the other
The trust reposed in you
An unquestioned faith
Entrusted in you
And you play on
Another’s predictable nature
To hide the reality
Of your own
Begin a game, the plan
Your confidence, the sham
Executed to perfection
By all the clowns
That joined your circus
You painted their faces
Cunningly with yours
Their own identities
And rationality, all lost
And you almost carried it off
Except for that one little glitch
Even the best Con
Can seldom predict
Even the best snake-catcher
Has felt that fang
The recoil of that spring
That has been pushed too far
The force of the water
When it breaks the dam
You thought
You had done the maths
You thought
In your selfish stride
You owned the right
To let your elephant trample
Over another’s head
To the cheers of
Your scheming aides
As they filled the stands
As your trained and painted
Yet faceless clowns performed
Your layers of make-up
Your worldly mask
The show was yours
To plant the guilt
To ease off the burden
That was yours to carry
The fear of being unmasked
Pushed your ego to the brink
But you blundered
And you erred
For in matters of the heart
There is never any maths
Your play with figures
Another could play too
You may have been ahead
But your footprints
Were easy to find
You wrote the script
He just changed the last line.

13th May, 2015


And if I must, so I will, with malice to none, and a song on my lips, judge me you, with your experienced sight,nope it don’t bother me, you’ll still have my smile,tis not a race, to be a step ahead for either, my road is not yours, and neither yours mine, watch your step,and let me enjoy mine, your wisdom and your rules, I tried and applied, but my path is different, those don’t work on mine, I’ll share a secret that I heard from a creature of might,he said they come to see, on four wheels, with an extra set of eyes,those that roam free, amidst the nature, that breathes life itself, they feel superior in their armour, and in their intelligence, and yet they go back, to their cages, of what they call life, he said perspective is relative, to which side you stand on, the ruled be free, or the free be the captive,for the cage that holds, is not always knitted from a wire mesh, so I sing my song, on maybe a borrowed tune, but its my song nevertheless, find yours to sing, and maybe you’ll be free,and if we meet at a crossroads, I won’t judge your journey, coz it wasn’t mine, and we’ll continue in different directions, for he also said, that the path travelled less, is not for the faint-hearted.