Being part of the Irony

Part of the mockery I became,
Inevitable Guilt, difficult to tame,
Though working under the blazing flame,
Yet couldn’t even walk the road of my aim,
Time bended everything so mockingly,
Even divided my road for the aim so sarcastically,
Power to choose seemed like a satire,
Inside I felt like burning in fire.
Prophecy of my proficiency was coded,
My energy to catch against it faded,
Path reaching out to the peak suddenly changed,
The moment I slipped into the crack of the mountain,
But who cares about the reason for the fall?
Am I on my destination? That matters all.
Sometimes, it’s the nature of the game,
That lets you decide the rule for the game,
In the end, trapped with its own canon,
Ironically you get defeated in your own so called game.
The search for the irony ended,
When part of the irony I became.

copyright aditi kochhar

Losing the WORDS

Losing the words,
Why? I don’t know.
Silent is now the language,
Why? I don’t know.

Scribbling on a white page with white ink,
Composing with the wordless words,
Wings that once conversed with sky,
Now don’t remember how to fly.

Losing the words,
Why? I don’t know.
Silent is now the language,
Why? I don’t know.

copyright aditi kochhar

Unsaid words.......

Unsaid words want to say something,
Yet without being heard by anybody,
Searching the explanation for their existence buried so deep,
Always wishing to know, why they are so hard to keep?

When at times it’s unbearable to remain hidden,
Why stay behind the doors of conversation?
When at times, absence of getting acknowledged fails,
Why make the silence, The Best mate?

Searching en route to reach, just the outskirts only,
And feel the pleasure of seeing outside the boundary,
But when failing in this attempt occurs quite often,
One thing that tortures is living in Suffocation.

Inadvertently, when essence reflects its shadow,
Often overlooked by claiming to be the intelligent minds,
Then all hopes starts fading away,
And stillness in talks slowly makes its way.

Expecting that single soul to set them free,
So that now these unsaid words can be carefree.
Blow away the burden of being forever caged,
This is what the unsaid words always say...

copyright aditi kochhar

eclipsed war III: hour of bedlam...

Standing on the verge of the boundary,
Soldier saw the zenith of his own country,
He wished to reach his own Eden,
Alas, he was still on his enemy’s nation.

He always kept the candle of hope alive,
He knew one day he will cross this other side,
He knew whom he will meet by the river side,
He knew that the day of unity will soon arrive.

Shot. Shot. Shot.
Catch him dead or alive, voices shouted.
It was the hour of Bedlam,
Inauspicious was this moment for him.

It was his last chance to reach his quarters,
After a lot of struggle he made it to the border,
He didn’t want to go through the hellish lows again,
He wanted to lie peacefully in his home again.

He was weak, his limb was bleeding,
His cracked arm lost all the strength,
But he knew it was his last chance,
He knew if today he will run, he will revive.

His trembling steps started to move,
To his foe, he didn’t give a single look,
Firmly on his steps he stood,
Open his page of bravery book.

Did he breathe the smell of brotherhood?
Did he dance with his love near the wood?
Did he rejoice his reunion?
Did he reach his region?

copyright aditi kochhar

eclipsed war II : merciless killing....

Soldier is now a slave,
He is directed, how he should behave,
He speaks the words they want to hear,
He dresses his nature as they ask him to wear.

He walks as they say,
Works as they say.
He loves as they say,
Hate as they say.

They have ripped of his dreams,
They derive pleasure from his shouts and screams,
In the night, he eats their abusive tongues,
In the morning, he drinks their fury glance.

Soldier’s identity has now been dissolved,
He no longer remembers who he was,
He has forgotten the country, to which he belongs,
He is tired, breathless, wishes to wear death’s gown.

He is not hand cuffed,
But is he free?
He is not being beaten up,
But is he not suffering any injury?
He is caged; they have invaded his freedom,
He is dying; they have injected the virulent venom.

His aspirations to live has died,
Yet He is living,
Soldier’s soul has died,
Facing his merciless killing...

copyright aditi kochhar

Choice- To Choose!!

Choose between black and white?
You might choose.

Choose between sea and mountain?
You might choose.

Choose between medical and non medical streams?
You might choose.

Choose between love and arrange marriage?
You might choose.


All the above choices are trivial, inconsequential.

Choose between to choose and not to choose?
****************

What will you choose now?

CHOICE- an act of choosing; liberty to pick; in life we all are given chances to make choices.

But suppose, there is one day, one chance, one opportunity, where life gives you a choice between, to choose and not to choose?

You have to decide whether you will accept to play this choosing game or not!!

This choice to choose is deadly and risky.

So make this choice by listening to your deep soul that stay silent against the materialistic mind. Choice to choose should be done by listening to one's heart and not the mind, else you might end up cursing yourself for your decision.

Power to choose lies in our hands.... This is what I learned.

copyright aditi kochhar

the withered flower.....

Fragrance, impregnated with polluted air,
Bared and drooped are now my shrunken petals,
Cheerful exuberance faded since I forgot to blossom,
It’s me, the withered flower, dull and rotten.

Ready to fall on the green grass,
Yet I wish inside to get placed in the crystal shine vase,
But alas, all I see now is a repugnant stare for me,
Before I completely die, please pluck me.

I desperately miss my fellow mates,
Who joyfully they hug each other in the greeting garlands,
I hate myself at times,
Looking at my skin colour, which no more shines.

Don’t see me with those pair of hatred eyes,
My soul is still pure and fragile,
It’s me, the withered flower,
It’s me, the same old, once blossomed flower.

copyright aditi kochhar

(photographer: kuber mehrotra)

oceanic life

Blue water, deep down terrain,
Welcome to the oceanic life of plains,
There exists a wave for each soul,
Where every single wave touches the shore...

Don’t wait, before it’s too late,
Just behold your surfing boat,
Dive into the surfing game,
And drench yourself with your wave.

wonder wave of your wishes,
Diving into the dreams that you dared,
Don't fear your fear's.
choose to float with your imaginations..

Drive with the oceanic pleasure,
It’s divine, memorabilia,
Never plan to always stand along the shore on the plain,
Just swim with your wave over the oceanic terrain.

Blue water, deep down terrain,
Welcome to the oceanic life of plains,
There exists a wave for each soul,
Where every single wave touches the shore...

copyright aditi kochhar

(photographer: aditi kochhar)

eclipsed war

Alchemy of annihilation is affected,
Bestowed love fails to get noticed,
When strident storm of separation hits the floor,
Talks of telepathy are not transmitted any more.

It seem like a traitor one left the War,
But, alas, no one ever left the war,
Masked was the identity of one owns face,
It was done to cross out the deathly phase.

Rightly decoded were the ‘signals’,
And definitely were ‘denied’ those signals.
The complete knew it’s ‘The lie’,
The incomplete silently cried.

Today, shifting the gears of life,
Driving on the filthy road on top speed,
This road has to be crossed,
To let the soldier win and get forever free.

Crossing the path of intense pain,
Running on the nature’s plan to greet again,
Forgive for the gunshot that was made to propelled inside,
But before the shot, shooter was too slit with the gun’s knife that lay behind.

Breathing this the smoke of war,
Heart cries and blood turns blue,
The darkness of this 'eclipsed war' would end soon.
With moonlight and sunshine, harmony ship would cruise soon.

copyright aditi kochhar