Wednesday, November 10, 2021

My moment with Love


 Why are there so many people? 



The first thing one notices is the crowd. Numbers and numbers of people and then suddenly you get a glimpse of it through their heads.
Its impressive yes but too many people around.
You struggle to find a spot to click a nice picture but there is always someone photobombing you.
So you decide to walk around and start noticing the details, the symmetry and the sheer size of it.

And suddenly it starts to turn red in the sky and sun starts descending..
Everything changes.
The shadows change.
The people start packing up to leave.
You and your mate decide to sit and take in the beauty.

IT IS  BREATHTAKING.

The way evening sun lights up the monument is delightful.
You are one of the last few tourists left, so you decide to leave too. On your way out you turn back and find an almost tourist free shot.
You quickly take out your phone to capture it and then you realise, you are at Taj.

The Taj.

The Taj Mahal.

And it answers your first question.
That's why they all are here, to find their one alone moment with it.
My moments with love, the way I had imagined it to be.

My one moment with Love.

Who are these men?

Wrote this long ago in wake of another assault on a young girl in India. Who would she trust now? Filled with sadness and anger, I wrote this to ask "Who are these men?" who commit such acts of violence against another human being.

Who are these men?

Do You know them?

Do I know them? No I don’t.

Then, Who are these men?

The ones you know are fine,

They win all the time.

They never commit a crime.

But then who stole my shine.


Who are these men?

Who stops my way.

be it night or the day.

When I cry, who claps away.


Do you know them?

Do I know them? No Way!


Then, who are these men?


My father dotes me,

bought me the dress.

My brother irritates me,

loves me nonetheless.

Are these men not related to any?

Who are these men?


Please tell me and find me them

So I could ask a Why

Who taught you this playfulness?

And why not to just ‘Die’.


Who told you to hurt me

And smirk when I scream

Was that some written sonnet

Or was it a long lived dream.


Who are these men

Who teach you well and never to be ashamed

Who are these men who show ‘Love’ to me, but are never to be named.

Who are these men?


Do you know them?

Do I know them?


Do I?


I do.