On a silent lazy Saturday evening
As the sun was leaving from work
Night shift stars were getting ready
And I looked out of the dark window
An iron bench was there in the park
Her head resting on his shoulders
The cold evening was getting hotter
Passion was getting into it’s groove
Beyond the rules of right and wrong
Two souls seeing the reddened skies
And I pulled down the curtains then
This window always gives me stories
Because this window is of memories…
The mystery of love refuses to die
Lemme sink in your beautiful eyes
You still wake me up in the nights
You are the only one I love by heart
I wish this life gives us a new start
Or else I’ll die and meet you again
In my next birth as an intense lover
Loving you again is still my dream
I still don’t mind losing this big world
For a small moment of love with you.
P.S.: I still want to see you as I breathe my last.
A love song that never existed
A story that never really begun
A climax that never happened
The thing which I assumed lost
Was actually a sugarcoated lie
Few moments of my life are left
Steal those like a ultimate thief
Shadows remain with memories
I lay in this red-rusty coffin idly
My soul feels like coming back
Fighting time for one last time
Then it looks at the dark clouds
That brightness was never mine
The story which looks unfinished
Was just a story in the minds.
©4yearoldadult
As I try to create a masterpiece for YOU
Trying to make the smiles come true
I end up writing it in a few minutes
My writing has no more deep secrets.
YOU are the mountain I wish to climb
YOU are the spring that makes me blind
To see only YOU, the special kind
Thoughts are scattered, it’s you that bind
YOU are the one that keeps me driving
The soothing music & the rhythm is exciting
The only one that holds me together
YOU stand by me when no-one gathers
YOU are the inspiration of my words
The one who means to me the world
YOU are the dream where hearts curled
My mind asked ‘Who is YOU’, silence unfurled
©4yearoldadult
Among all those theories about the way to live life, ‘practical outlook’ forms the core. I am someone who have explored the extremes of practical mindset. When I was being practical outside the ICU, where my father was undergoing a major brain operation, people thought that I am a drug addict. The lack of emotion in a 17 year old was beyond any explanation. I treat life as a baseball bowler, and I present dead bat to all its balls. Somewhere down the line, I forgot that I do have some flavor of emotion left in my mind. I have failed to present a dead bat to one such moment. My love for writing was nurtured by a great personality who used to teach me Hindi during my high school days. He made me believe that writing is the best mode of expression. He stirred up my mind, and made me capable of penning down my thoughts. I met him just after my high school results in 2006, and that proved to be my last memory of him. The one who taught the details of my passion, died because of something I am trying to cure. It may be a normal for others to feel the pain of loss, but it is a rare feeling for a stone-heart like me. Such was his importance, that his loss has dissected the wall of practicality in my mind. I wish to meet him again, in any form of life. I always prefer English for my writings because it extends my capabilities to express. But, hindi is taking the lead at this very moment. Wherever you are, I ask you to critically evaluate the following lines:
“ये मन तो था ही तितली
उड़ना सिखाया आप ही ने
और जब सिख ली उड़ान
आप बादलो मे गुम हो गये”
For my English reader:
“This heart was a butterfly
You taught me how to fly
When I mastered the flight
You disappeared in the clouds”
Your words still echo in my ears, Rest in peace.
4 Year Old Adult 