Repertoire

Connectivity

Either to write or to speak about,

Either to dwell into the old memories

Or to get a shade under a little old tree,

And think of something,

Without having any doubt.

The book of life is always mesmerising,

It gives us an ebullient lamp

And tells us to read something,

But that something is mixed up with millions of things,

illuminated by thousands of clay lamps

And with a new tune always it sings.

Billions of stories lurk around everywhere,

Behind every brick there is something stashed.

Some are preserved in the hearts,

Some with the watery eyes,

Some just blow in the wind,

Each brick depicts a different paragraph of life,

Each book has a pageSome are torn,

Some are left blank.

Weekend

A little bit of relaxation to feel

And to loaf around and rejoice,

A continuation of rigorous week,

Entangled with some mind boggling tension,

Wait for this day to ease,

A little bit of introspection,

At the juncture of cloud and rain,

Flame the urge of modification,

Although the time is very short

But billions of seconds are there,

To untie the complicated knots,

A childish feeling of becoming the king of individual wish,

And to run on the path of serendipity,

Without knowing the exact destination.

Redefining The Moral values

Families are just like the most glorious and eminent show,

It is encompassed with the different enchanting flowers,

Which bask in the beauty of a large vase,

Kept in a pious garden, created by the hands of God.

These flowers shine with their elegance,with a dignity,

Flowered by an absolute uncompromising and unblemished attitude

Through a book named as "Unity in spite of difference".

When the sunshine blesses the world,

And the world is bathed by his effulgence,

These flowers also dance to the tune of an ever mellifluent exultance.

As there is always a rhythmic change in the song,

Composed by the fickle hands of atmosphere,

And the world is ready to astonish us

With a sudden jolt of a devastating wind,

These flowers may totally feel berserk for the right tune to compose,

Because it becomes very hard for the conjugal tune to find its thread to bind.

But the bond among the flowers is completely undeterred by a Gordian twine.

Cruel hands dare to pluck the flowers as well as the petal of them,

Without understanding their excruciating pain,

And then fate compels those murky hands to await for an incurable blain.

All of a sudden a calm and quiet river might be transformed to a cannibal alike deluge,

And the sound of destruction scares us by lurking around at some corner.

O!Flower, thy ecstatic skill should force these raging waves

to become the ever repenting mourners.

It depends on a deft gardener to keep the beauty of the garden intact forever,

Because a true leader never teaches the lesson of surrender

And a focused mind always motivates the foot soldiers to achieve the glory of Knight and to keep it

as untrammeled as ever.