THE TRYST

Lost in a horizon, my eyes fail to see the zenith.
In my effort to find a way out,I reach the place
where I started.


I know
Whatever was, is and will be offered to me
was never mine.

All those tokens will remain here, long after I'm gone.
But,nevertheless I pile them up again and again.
Tie them with threads of love,affection,attachment and greed.
I often ponder,
Why should I sacrifice anything that is rightfully mine ?


I shrug off all my tears, seeming worthless to others
Proudly clutching each insult,hatred,mockery
and vulgar comment that life inflicted on me.
I think I'll return them someday .
But to whom??Where??



All around me I see a battlefield,a 'Kurukshetra'
Of the known and the unknown.
Whom shall I bestow with
This cocktail of abuses,
Which I never liked myself ?



Rather I'll keep it all for myself.
I shall treat them as my ornaments.
Obviously,I won't go empty handed.
When we meet, he'll see it for himself
That I know how to deck myself in all finery
Tying my hair into a gorgeous bun
Lining my eyes with the black pestilence of bad names
And all my poignant frustrations metamorphosizing into
this sparkling red ruby on my finger.