You..

You,
The spotless moon at night
Besprinkling shades of light
I stretch my hand from dark in a hope of brighter eve
You,
A beauty behind veil
Came out of fairytale
A cherished dream of time surreal to believe
You,
First shower of a rain
Reliever of my pain
Quelling deadly thirst like a spring in bare land
You,
The unreachable star
Enticing but too far
As precious things don’t lie in reach of every hand
You,
The rhythms of guitar
Melodies of sitar
I wish I sing for life euphonies of this song
You,
A Pricey beyond buy
A treasure worthy die
Like a breath for dying soul lying all along.
You,
The warm in chilling cold
A feel that can’t be told
And thousand other things unperceived by the sense
You,
The mystifying tale
Enigma that prevail
This growing quest for you in the shadow of pretence
You,
May be the real or the myth
But the reason I still breathe
And the cause of my living; this life and therewith.
-rahul

Dreams Unlimited

I wanna earn big money whose supply never ends

A BMW parked in porch with gorgeous girlfriends

Every morning I should wake with maids all around

Put velvet slipper inside feet as I touch the ground

Country house in Birmingham with panoramic view

A garden full of colored rose draped in crystal dew

While flying in my private jet I could touch the star

Peg of Scotch in my hand and puffs of Cuban cigar

But there are some priceless things I wish above all

I would put my life on stake for smallest of a small

When sorrow takes over the joy and it’ll feel like cry

Promise me shoulder to weep before tears go dry

Whenever I feel tired and want to have some nap

Bless me pat from father and sleep on mother’s lap

When last days come to end and body lays to die

Friends grieving all around with tears in every eye

History will remember me and legend will endure

Once lived a poor man whose dreams came to real.

-Rahul

I wish I hadn’t let you go...

You came to me smiling,

I remember that day.

my eyes were glued to you.

my words were without say.

How will I forget moments

merrily shared with you.

But they will live so shorter

I never had a clue.

Didn’t you hear my screech?

whining through that night.

Shattered you left me chase

your last dimming sight.

You will leave for ever

had I ever know.

seized you in my arms

to never let you go.

All it takes to heal the wound

is your gentle touch.

After suffering all this years

am I asking much?

living here a life of death

come back once to me.

promise you to take along

till the end of sea.

I feel you ever near to me

in wait of my one call.

And spread up your arms  

to forgive me for all.

You come along the first light

as night turns to dawn.

brace me tightly and just say

you were never gone.

tell me baby, just the once,

you were never gone.

                                -Rahul

Losing my mind.

I wake to see another day full of shame and disgrace

step out to lose my wounded pride bit by bit in killer race

Everyday a hopeless face looks at me with scornfulness

from the mirror raise the furor roiling blood inside veins

A drop of tear rolls down the face and heart goes into pain

I see a graveyard of my dreams graced by things I’ve gain

I blame no one for life’s misery but me and my cursed fate

Once unending pride for self, I am here with endless hate

‘what u dreamt and what u got has aught to do with luck

get up and break the shackles of grim holding you stuck’

I asked ‘who you are?’ to the voice I heard ringing aloud

Apace came the answer ‘Son, look up through the cloud!’

                                                          -Rahul Zode

Awaiting Trek

Bless me Death....

Sometimes life takes you the point where you start questioning the existence of God...his Power...and his unbiased Grace. When I wrote this Poem my belief on God was shaken and I, the theist, didn't shame to curse the Almighty. 

Life is not worth shucks

can’t live it any more.

Me, like a wrecked ship

laid at distant shore.

I see the hopeless future

awaiting every morrow.

En route to my goals

boulevards gone narrow.

Was I doomed to failure

did not I give my best?

Ever in this drudgery

had I taken rest?

Oh god, you so ruthless

revel in game of breath.

I dare you prove me wrong

if not, bless me death.

                   ---Rahul

My Wish......

wrote 1 year after the first poem..  


I saw one couple passing as I looked out of window
She held his hand tightly while stepping over snow
I wanted to hold you but afraid of hurting you
I want you to kill me for the crime I didn’t do


When everyone had someone to share their feeling
I spoke to myself within walls and under dark ceiling
I wanted to tell you but afraid of hurting you
I want you to kill me for the crime I didn’t do


Those last days were life-taking as you walked away
I wish you heard the feelings my heartbeats tried to say
I wanted to scream loud but afraid of hurting you
I want you to kill me for the crime I didn’t do


I dunno what brought you so close to my heart
But death is only reason that’ll separate us apart
I wanted to be alive but afraid of hurting you
I want you to kill me for the crime I didn’t do


I want you to kill me for the crime of loving you
I want you to kill me for the crime of losing you
                                                 --Rahul

Don't you feel the way I feel about You....

This is the Song I had written during my college days. 
Found it on one loose page in my closet and hence sharing it with you. 
The use of words is simple and song might seem jejune but they all came with the burst of emotions.
I hope you will like it.
``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
I know, I m not the best person in world
But you are the purest of pure pearl
Gimme chance honey, gimme the life
My heart is nicking, take out the knife


This life was boring before you came
Days and nights were nothing but same
Now I sleep to hug you in my dream
And wake up with you in morning gleam


I may not take you to the wonderland
And build the castle with magic wand
As these are the things out of my control
But I promise you my life and my soul


The world is so big and life is so short
Will love you forever with all my heart
Be the princess of my home of sand
Make me prince by holding my hand


You pass me by through blowing breeze
You speak and my time comes to freeze
I wanna kiss you and this feeling is new
Don’t you feel the way I feel about you?


Don’t you feel the way I feel about you?

                                              --Rahul

Holocaust of Dreams...Part 6

With the whistle of train I came back to reality from wild imagination that triggered me after seeing that baby. I had almost seen his future through my eyes during those few minutes. The Train left from Hazrat Nizzamuddin for the next station; New Delhi. My destination was just 20 minutes away from Nizzamuddin station. The last 20 minutes of my suffering and then everything will be fine, I thought. On its way I saw Humayun ka makbara a beautiful tomb of Mughal king Humayun built by his wife. I could see a glimpse of parliament building lying far away and shining in the golden morning sunbeams. The traffic condition on Delhi’s road was in a deplorable state even in the presence of broad roads. One peculiar thing I noticed on Delhi road was that the pillion riders were wearing helmets along with the rider and it was strange sight for a boy from a city where even bike rider won’t wear helmet. It was a funny to see that they were following traffic rules so sincerely. Though may be not out of responsibility but out of fear of cop and heavy fine thereafter.

Around 7’O clock my train reached New Delhi Railway Station. I alighted on platform and stood outside S6 coach as instructed by my Massi. Actually the person who was supposed to pick me from the station was my distant relative and my Massi had told him that I will be standing near S6 coach so that neither he nor I would have to search for each other. You can call him my Jiju; a brother in law. I had not seen him neither he had any knowledge of my existence until two days before when he was asked to get me from the station and help me to find my reporting office. Three days before in Nagpur at my Massi’s home I was shown a VCR of Jiju’s marriage. A handsome, dashing man, sporting moushtache, height about 5’11”. Slim physique. These were the points I had taken note of so that I won’t miss him at station.

I stood there for almost 20 minutes starving out of hunger when one person approached me asking for my name. I didn’t recognize him at first sight. He introduced himself as Mahesh Gupta. Oh. He was the same person I was waiting for. My jiju. But something was there which caused me fail to identify him. He had put on weight and gone little fat. And yes his moustache was missing. That was the reason I failed to catch him at first look.

He generously lifted one of my heavy bags and asked me to follow him as he started moving towards the stairway. I could barely climb those dirty stairs leading to the over bridge stained with dried spittle of betel leaves which Indian people just love to chew. The Indian railways station’s filthy state was no different even at main station of Indian Capital. Few beggars-the most unproductive people of India-were sleeping on stairs blocking my way.

Jiju took me to the parking lot where my first ride on Delhi’s road was waiting. He easily managed to take his scooter out from that scrambled place. He gave me one spare helmet which he used to carry always with him. He told me that even if you are riding alone it’s better to keep one extra helmet for some unexpected and irresistible lift coming your way. You cannot afford to miss such chance, he wanted to tell me. I chuckled on his unsought explanation to my unasked question. I deduced his hidden advice and worn that helmet thinking how many such irresistible lifts had worn this before. He took his scooter from the narrow lanes of Paharganj to the broad roads of NH10, from straight highways to serpentine flyovers. Buses running indiscriminately one after another as if some Indian Grand Prix was going around ... Heavy construction work under way… honking, honking and more honking….heavy traffic jams.

Finally we reached his home at Paschim Vihar. Pinki didi was at Kitchen when we entered the house. I was seeing her after quite long time, may be 6-7 years. My memory of last meeting with her was not so clear. They had three year old son Kishu and Jijus mother in the family. A small happy family. Immediately after putting my luggage in hall I went downstairs to call home and inform my dad about my safe arrival at Delhi and at Didi’s home too. I went to nearby STD booth and dialed my neighbor’s phone number. During those days in our locality only my neighbor had Landline which he got connected after 6 months of waiting at BSNL office….. (To be continued)

Holocaust of Dreams... Part 5

Agra, popularly known as the City of Taj and the capital of erstwhile Mughals. Taj Mahal, a glorious white marble structure built at the core of Agra and along the bank of Yamuna River by ShahaJahan about 350 years ago in memory of his loving wife Mumtaz Mahal. So the name Tajmahal goes. Considered among the Seven Wonders of the World a spectacular piece of mughal architecture anyone will boast to have seen. Same goes with me.

I stood up and went innocently to get a glimpse of Tajmahal but to my surprise there was no such structure as farthest as my sight goes. In the wee hours of morning I could all see was  a complete darkness. In another few seconds the train has entered into the station and came to halt. A noise of hawkers selling out the famous Petha from Agra was dispersed into the station. Some of the passengers went outside to purchase the packets full of Pethas. They looked so jubilant as if they came so long only for this Petha. I took none.

As train passed another hundreds of kilometers through the landscape of North India it reached Hazrat Nizzamuddin with the first rays of sunlight. The sight was no different than any other as seen across the length and breadth of Indian railway tracks. Shanties build along the land of flowing nullah. Poor slum dwellers and their kids in half naked condition. Some people were actually squatted close to the railway track to finish their morning chore. Some even returning the disgusting stare of passengers with equally disgusting look. It was awful sight to see. In India half of the city population lives in such horrible state of subsistence with no sign of complaints on their face.

A baby was crying inside a cradle swaying under the open sky. Cradle was hanged to one of the branch of tree and a rope was held by his mother in one hand. She was washing the utensils while rocking the cradle. The baby was learning to live under roofless shelter from the very first day. His life will not be much different than what his family is living or maybe he will change the trend. May be he will live on his own terms and not as ordained by his fate. He might go to nearby municipality school for his primary education and at the same time work with his father at some construction site. He has to quit his education following his father’s untimely death after the collapse of that Under-Construction Building his father was working in. Her mother may elope with her companion leaving him alone after finding it difficult to live without the source of sustenance. Poor financial condition will take him into the world of crime. He will learn every crime possible on earth right from pick pocketing to bank robbery. Who knows someday he might turn into cold-blooded murderer, a Mafia, a Don. If not then he might come into company of druggies. Addiction to cocaine, heroin and alcohol will ruin him and bring him to his utter end like many other unnamed and unclaimed bodies at municipal morgue.

Or life might have something different, something magnificent in its store for him. He will do well in his studies and get good scholarship for his engineering. He may attain some premier business school someday and eventually work for some MNC at heavy paycheque. Will roam in Benz and buy exquisite flat in Delhi’s most lavish area. Who knows? Who knows, except The One!.... (To be continued)