A Warm Place As Frost Bites

A warm place as frost bites
In our everyday lives.
Masquerading wo(man);
Tinkering lives
Peach parachutes in the ocean and
Dolphins that dance in the swirl of the clouds.

Come to your machine and turn back in time!
Over and over till you reach here by my side!
There are flowers in the air and memories still,
The creak of the wood and the must of your books,
The five birds on that branch that I painted in my heart,
The warmth of the candle to be heat and sunshine.

A warm place as frost bites...

The Gardener in Red

Where do you see five birds perched on a single branch,
Uniformed dollops of gray against the rugged back of the old tree at the back of the house,
Or another singleton, a thumb fist sized bird, perching atop the tallest leaf of the tallest tree,
As the leaf sways the bird and its lightness against a cloudy sky where droplets drizzle in misty grandeur,
Where a caterpillar and lady birds carved in wood and painted in colors raw and rustic make a home
For the birds and their pages of songs, the morning serenades, afternoon siesta notes and lullaby's for nights long,
For love and a home full of love's footprints
Ammi's garden of happiness.

Doppelganger

Shrouds of ghouls
In a vale of shadows
To know is to live
In the beauty of time
A day when the hour hand turns golden
The curtain rises
With red hangings,
Chandeliers, grandeur
 and robes the same
Of velvet black on it gardens

sewed,
The past a memory of some other lived
You and I 

Discovery .

because beauty must exist,

hold back the world,

become it,

because to think with hearts redeemed,

is to make worlds come alive,

because the songs have always been,

but the will to dance is new,

because the prayer wished upon a face,

among the unknown, always seen,

because between dusk and dawn,

is when we learnt of light.

because the answers found us,

among questions forgotten.

why am I ?

you .

-MMK

Once upon a time , in a land beyond it.

In a dark corner ,
A weaver of tales lay ,
His stories forged alone ,
Of never being alone ,
Voices sang at the lyre,
All that filtered through were words ,
To fly without wings ,
Is how we come to fall ;

In the loneliest corners of night  ,
Resides brightest light ,
To be found without ever knowing to search ,
Is how prayer finds a god .

In a dark corner ,
Two weavers of tales lay,
Riding dragons ,

finding windmills to slay .

-MMK

When do we get to see Ghalib's Delhi?

That city is a wonderland
A portkey to history
Walled cities and cities within cities
Eco's maps as Polo and Great Khan
on balmy nights over brews talked

Every stone wall breathes here
Lest we stayed indoors fearing time's sprint
or a hasty cappuccino which put a shroud around
As museums for each other
With memories of the waves
The smell of the rains
And conversations of a night bygone
'Let us see history another day'

Truth at the Dholpur house

For as long as I can remember, this was to be it. Families would gather around dinner and talk about life , or the absence of it , mine would always find itself embedded in the civil service . There were always promotions and postings , and to spice things up maybe even a retirement . Rooted in every story was a remarkable man, someone I thought everyone wanted to be, and if the flesh was found wanting, at least look up to . Being his son was to know , life would never be something unwritten .

I bumble about life, much like a bee finds fleeting fancy in every new flower I presume . As long as I remember , my only passion was to be passionate . All the things I'd learn came from outside of those meant to teach me, 13 years of being let down in every school , of which I'd changed as many as 9 , could do that to you . Unashamedly , the closest friends I'd kept were a set of encyclopedias that still remain warm to the touch , every withered page a memory of a warm evening spent together. For an age I knew to wander , knowing that the discipline of life wasn't where my heart lay.
It was this heart that suffered the UPSC .

Some of us grow in the shadow of those that made us , I was born into reflected glory . There was nothing more to be , than the son of a benighted family . I began in red , knowing this was how I would try to repay the insurmountable debt in love my parents have willed me . Life had lessons in store .

I lasted 20 minutes in my first class for this exam. The master procrastinator in me told me I could do this faster by myself , went home , never touched a book for months , figured I was smart and smart was all it took . A lifetime of curiosity helped , cleared the prelims , felt like I was the chosen one . 18 hours of written tests and a 45 minute interview later I'd made it to the realm of pity . 'oh you're in the railways ? What's Mr khan's son doing there , tch , it's okay child , life will get better ' People have an amazing way of helping you so very kindly discover another depth of self loathing in yourself .

But hey , if no effort got you this far , all it'd take this time around was a month or so right ? Another year , I was yet again anointed as the chosen one within the confines of my mind . Failed . Cried in ways I never thought humanly possible , shattered . The exam wasn't just an exam anymore , it was a validation of my right to exist. So began the rabbit hole .

Year 3 , to be strong you need to appear to be strong .  'Why do we fall Bruce?' . There's a good reason batman dwells in his books , out here we fall because we do . No great story there , no epic background score . Took the exam again , went off to the railway academy in the interim . This was my year , I just knew it , every fibre in me resonated with the will of the universe .
Failed . Give up already , I told myself . I'd let my family down , the legacy ended with how unworthy I'd become . Not just ordinary unworthy , UPSC certified unworthy . Funny thing is , I'd stopped being sad at this point, drained of every emotion I was just a walking shell of a man , a long , long while ago I had a life and maybe even dreams , but who could even remember .This was done , and I was resigned to a life of settling .

Year 4 , even the worst form of self inflicted abuse has a rhythmic routine to it . I sat in those same chairs because at this point they were the only true friends I had , I stared at pieces of paper with longing familiarity . I walked back into dholpur house knowing every wall there and entered halls with such a painful degree of familiarity . Walking out after the interview I knew this had to end , I had to get out because dying trying was a very real possibility . Plan B was formulated , and then a plan C and a D , anything to end this horrible cycle .

Then I see a familiar name on the list , Muzammil Khan , rank 22 .

God damn , life , you're insane

Here's where I am now , I happened upon the love of my life at the last place I wanted or knew to look . This isn't a saccharine sweet ending , it's an honest one . Things happen , period . No reason , no story . If this is what you want , try until you break . If you're smart about it , find a passion , an actual passion and use it to distract yourself from your own pointlessness . Life will end regardless of how many letters you have next to your name , live , beyond being judged .