The World in a Raindrop

Dangling from the rim of a leaf

Was a raindrop with a sublime sheen

Resplendently radiating a thousand rays

Midst the thick mist and haze

I gazed at it and I could see

A face which could surely be me

And then I saw the leaves and the walls

Though they were big, they looked so small

The speeding cyclist, the open windows

The shining sun, the splendid rainbow

The tilted roofs, the towering chimney

The blooming flowers, the buzzing honey bee

The floating clouds, the wet benches

The little birds, the broken fences

The grazing cattle, the vast meadows

The merry children, the lonely rose

The sleeping dogs, the billowing skirts

The honking vehicles, the trail of dust

I could see all things short and tall

All the world, contained in a raindrop so very small!

An Expanse of Sand

As far as the eyes could see

Lay a vast expanse of glittering sand

Which would remain so till eternity

Trod upon by a thousand.

Not a drop of water, no sign of life

A mirage in the distance, tricking the eyes

To survive in this ‘furnace’, one has to strive

With the sun blazing low, not up high.

Billowing the sand like a woman’s skirt

The sand storm blows, hot n harsh

No creature creeps from the bowels of the earth

Lying below the sand in the damp, cool marsh

As the last visible drop evaporates

And the white ball lowers itself all the more

With no vestiges of the wrinkled dry dates

The place glows red and temperatures soar... 

The School Bell Is Never Heard

Trrring...And the school bell rings piercing through the gossips and giggles of the girls and the howls of the boys of the school. Yet...yet for a reason (still being researched), it seems to penetrate just the ears of the teachers and well...the hard concrete walls, the lush green trees, the blooming flowers and anything else in the world except for the students. Perhaps, their minds are preoccupied with thoughts of better significance. Oh! And who can deny, the brittle minds are so busy. Who takes care of the friends being hurt if you leave them abruptly sans a warm farewell? Who takes care of that lonely, helpless ball that dribbles off to a corner, if not placed gingerly back on its stand? Who takes care of the trailing hot gossip dripping with sweet syrup of excitement which if not fully heard haunts the students in all the rest of the classes? Ah! It’s that small mind which cramps all of this and much more in its limited realms. Then well...how can anyone expect that brain to register the harsh ringing of that dreaded school bell? How very cruel of anyone to expect the ever busy mind to pay heed to those irritating summons of the school bell. While walking down the hallowed corridors of the school, or while taking a stroll round the school garden, or even while gossiping endlessly with the girls, or maybe while enjoying a stolen bite from the lunch box...the school bell is never heard!!

Another drawing

My little brother's new set of colors seemed so tempting...I just couldn't resist drawing this (an old drawing again)

"It's not only fine feathers that make fine birds"
-Aesop

"The reason that birds can fly and we can not is simply that they have perfect faith, for faith is necessary to have wings"

"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song"

The Haunted House

I climbed up the winding stairs

Of the derelict house with broken chairs

Cobwebs lined the dark passages

It was mysterious, full of secret messages

The dusty mullioned windows, the broken latch

The old turrets, the greasy patch

With voices ricocheting off the walls

And discordant cacophony filling the halls

My heart was thumping hard all the while

I felt as if I could drink the Nile

I crossed the archway and reached the landing

It was so scary, perhaps my ending...

Everything here was still as death

A rustle startled me, my heart leapt

I checked twice, no one was there

I felt the need to go, but where?

Just then a hand gripped me tight

I didn’t have the strength to scream, let alone fight

With horror, my body went really numb

I knew my end was near, I would succumb

Just then my eyes fluttered open, my mum stood there

Oh! I heaved a sigh- it was just a nightmare!

A sketch by me

Sketches

I love sketching ruins...Here's one I sketched long back...

  "Some ruins of ancient times are much more beautiful than the best buildings of modern eras!" 

― Mehmet Murat ildan 

"The Rusty Ruins were the remains of an old city, a hulking reminder of back when there'd been way too many people, and everyone was incredibly stupid. And ugly."

― Scott Westerfeld, Uglies   

"There is, I find, something very evocative about ruins - particularly recent ones." (introduction to "Calico Black, Calico Blue") 

  ― Joel Knight

Where No Man has Ever Gone Before

I had a feeling...A strong desire

Though threatened by consequences dire

To reach a place...A quaint wonderland

Perhaps buried under the sand

The desire forever in my heart I bore

As I set out to reach the land

Where no man has ever gone before.

I put on my walking shoe

And my hat..."That would do!"

I thought to myself as I set out

With a stifled cry, not a shout

My desire strengthening all the more

I tried to reach the land

Where no man has ever gone before.

  

I crossed the snow lands, the deserts hot

Still I couldn’t reach the place I sought

I swam across the seas and scaled the peaks

I was exhausted, my limbs felt weak

Still I walked till my feet were sore

As I struggled to reach the land

Where no man has ever gone before

My greatest fears were coming true

As I had fallen down and nothing I could do

Smeared with blood from the bruises and cuts

To walk another mile, I didn’t have guts

And then I saw it...It was a door

Ah! I had finally reached the land

Where no man has ever gone before! 

Mountain of Conviction

Blackened by the sooty flames of despair

With the litter of doubts here and there

Peaked by the snow of discouragement

With trees laden with the leaves of hindrance, seemingly bent

Lit by the lightning of diffidence

With the clouds of demotivation getting dense

Braving the storm of uncertainty

Resounding by the cries of inability

Drained by the stream of deviation

Reverberating by the voices of procrastination

Yet suffused by the light of hope

Dotted by the saplings of trust on its slope

With the wings of faith, it aims to fly

To reach higher, higher and high

Midst echoes of abnegation

Rises high the mountain of Conviction...