The Mask

Behind the mask, a false face thrives,

Behind the disguise, a hollow humanity survives.

A facade we show,

exhibit as our true selves,

built upon, hiding the edifice

that is truly our bare self.

Behind the mask, a false face thrives,

Behind the disguise, a hollow humanity survives.

The mask of laughter,

The mask of joy,

Some mask to unmask,

All mask to decoy.

Behind the mask, a false face thrives,

Behind the disguise, a hollow humanity survives.

A mask, well, is just that,

a covering, casing, wrapping on life,

Behind the mask, a false face thrives,

Behind the disguise, a hollow humanity survives.

Statistic

A statistic maketh a man

The man becometh a number.

The track is long, winding,

With numerous hurdles thrown in at will,

And running, slaving on it,

Are the zombies, toiling with an inked till.

A statistic maketh a man

The man becometh a number

A blasphemy it is, on the track,

To have an emotive quality.

And digits of the numerical kind matter

More than a human personality.

A statistic maketh a man

The man becometh a number

The track ends where the rainbow does,

And the gold at the end is but a Leprechaun’s.

But instead of seeing the seven splendid shades,

He grabs the gold at the advent of dawn.

A statistic maketh a man

The man becometh a number

Time to be aroused

From a wakeful slumber.

Stop once and think,

Is the effort worth the number?

The difficulty of being good

Picking up litter from others' paths,

and dirtying my own hands,

mocked at for my naivete, I realize

the difficulty of being good.

The world is full of crooks they say,

and help is not without motive.

Laughed at for being selfless, I realize,

the difficulty of being good.

Crushing the competition ruthlessly,

the world is ruled by kings.

Sniggered at for being a joyful Joker, I realize,

the difficulty of being good.

But sometimes, I just feel happy,

content on seeing others smile.

Admired for bringing them joy, i realize,

the necessity of being good.

Eyelash

Broken from my eye,

fallen on my palm in a flash

So near, and yet so far

Oh, my beautiful shiny eyelash.

Wishes abound hidden,

within the black cuticle of yours

And yet, thee, i wish to retain

just for the time, that was ours.

You irritated me, poking in my eye,

and often, you brought me tears

but without you, incomplete is my eye

for you were in it all these years.

Now you are gone, and have become a desolate's wish

and as I see you depart, i have but one desire

Come back, my love, to the eye of my heart

Come back, my love, for you, I admire.

Away, away, away you'll fly,

and before long, you'll be gone.

The lash of my eye, the beat of my heart,

why did you leave me alone?

-Shivam

Adjust

An evening walk in a pristine park,

and I end up being chased by a stray dog's bark.

Sprawling on ground, covered with dust,

the watchman lifts me and says, "Please, adjust!"

An elevator ride in a multiplex,

ends up an exercise in gag reflex.

Extra passengers, the liftman tries to thrust,

and whispers mockingly, "please, adjust!"

A woman walking alone, in a dark street,

gets viewed by goons as walking meat.

Eying her, salivating, blinded by lust,

they catch her hand and jeer, "Please adjust!"

A national character, a national malady.

In the name of contentment, merely a parody.

Being happy by not getting what we must,

Amazed I am, by our capacity to adjust.

-Shivam

The rebel

So, what makes one a rebel? what forces a person to leave his/her routine life and disturb the 'ordinary' lives of others? I try to explore an answer to it. mind it, its not a 'solution'. Its merely an answer to the question I was wondering for some time. This poem might seem accusatory (projection defense mechanism to my psychology friends) but its honest. Its what I believe, and you all have full right to disagree to me. I have not minced any words, nor is there an element of softness. Its poured from the deepest corner of my heart. Enjoy!

Was walking down a street, I,
my path never straighter.
But you pushed me, punched me, kicked me,
And threw me in rebellion's crater.

You bound my spirit, you didnt let me be
You beat me, and beat me,
And made a rebel out of me.

In the ocean of the world,
I was but a mite.
But your seeking to exterminate my will,
made me adapt to a mightier might.

You bound my spirit, you didnt let me be,
you beat me, and beat me,
and made a rebel out of me.

With searing iron of accusation,
me, a threat to peace you brand.
A peace loving, simple man, at your behest,
is now labelled a brigand.

you bound my spirit, you didnt let me be,
you beat me, and beat me,
And made a rebel out of me.
-Shivam

Are you entertained?

I ask you, beseechingly enough,
Are you entertained?

Seeing us wither, tither
Raise in hope, and then dither
Fly high like an eagle's feather
All, just to turn into nether.

I ask you...

Seeing us struggle, seeing us fight
Seeing us crumble beneath your might
Seeing us become what we aren't
Just for the merriment of your sight.

I ask you..

We shed blood, and we shed tears
We face our most innate fears
We shout, scream, plead, curse
Just to gain the audience of your ears.

I ask you..

A reality show, others may call it,
But we call it Life.
We struggle to win it by all means
and by facing your-provided strife.

I ask you, O God, O Almighty,
Are you entertained?

"Yes I am, Yes I am.
For I am the one who maketh you,
And you are my favorite child.
For I will give you the strength to face
And I will give you the will to fight.
For I am the Creator of the Day, if I am the enforcer of the night."

The beggar

Dispelling all qualms, stood he, asking for alms

Arms spread out wide, in front of

a cozying couple, in a tight little squeeze,

Hoping to squeeze out, a rupee or two, maybe five.

With folded hands, there he stands

looking at stones; where his boss' eyes

should have been, motionless, emotionless

An increment, a hike, an affordability for his new bike, he begged.

With head bent, and heart rent, he stood,

tears welling down his eyes; a prayer set

on his quivering lips, to a God set in stone

A good boy for his only daughter, he begged.

At them we may sneer, jeer

With taunts, insults and barbs; and yet they are

a mirror, a reflection, an image of

our deepest, darkest self, we all are afraid of.

-Shivam'da

The Afreet

The Afreet (Afreet- an evil monster)

Battered,bloodied,bruised
on the floor he lay
broken bones he could deal with, but
his pride broke, as if made of clay.

Whose fault it was? Whose peccancy?
Whose dereliction was made into his blunder?
He wondered, as lay bandaged,
His life, his worth, his future asunder

He could have left, deft as he was
For avenues new, for pastures anew
But he stayed to serve his own, his country,
which mocked him at every cue.

He was expected to be crushed by this
but managed to stand tall
He stood back and fought his way,
For he had learnt not to stay down, after a fall.

The whipping boy for the lazy king
has grown stronger with each lash
He holds the hand, that held the whip
He won't be anybody's fodder to thrash.

He never wanted all this fight,
all he wished, was to diagnose, to treat
but the fires of Hell, had hardened him hard
And he became today's heartless afreet.