Forest Fires

Of foliage dense and thick, interspersed with vines,

sunlight peeking through, creating shadows amidst towering pines.

The cacophony of birds blends with rippling noises of streams,

in this gargantuan theatre, dormant lay a tiny seed, a small dream.

A dream, to aim for the skies, just hidden beyond the leaves,

scraping the mud amidst insects, shrubs and bushes; it grieves.

What natural order entitled those around him to glory and him to darkness, he ponders,

gently pushed aside from his milieu by wind and water, he meanders.

The law of the jungle, hunt or be hunted,

he could germinate into a shrub, or a small tree, albeit stunted.

To be the tallest, its fight lay in the deepest and darkest recesses of grounds,

where he could slug it out, harshly but fairly, amidst nutrients unbound.

Yet, mother nature benevolent at times, indulges his fantasies,

innocent seed feels maligned, insinuated, propagates his fallacies.

Seeking more nutrients and space, brethren’s ashes he demands,

his tale a folklore, many more such seeds question, the movement expands.

And so lightning strikes, at the sturdy old wooden barks, their protectors for ages,

unknowingly, the seeds sever ties, in their lust for heights, as the fire around them rages.

Consuming everyone alike in its path, not differentiating friends or foes,

leaving a trail of destruction, fumes, burnt timber, akin to after east wind blows.  

Amidst the falling ashes, the question shall forever remain,

in their vengeance for heights, what did those seeds gain?

Their roots embed in those fallen, as they contemplate the price of their desires,

Unknowingly in their quest for victory, they lost the foliage itself, to their own forest fire.

 ©Copyright Darshil A Shastri

A wrapper flows by..

The palm trees dot the landscape, bedded in velvet sands,

On another sojourn to find nature's comfort in faraway lands.

As the waves crash relentlessly, erasing traces of time,

Yet not strong enough, to tide over the modern man's crime.

As I soak my feet, the blue around it slowly turns red,

Fragments of a glass shattered, slowly embed.

The pain is ephemeral, and the wound will be soon a scar,

Yet in our transient joys, have we gone too far?

We see, we like, we build, we confine, we run, insane,

To start this cycle at a new place, yet again.

For materialism knows no bounds when you're not paying its price,

Forgetting every misdeed today is tomorrow's sacrifice.

The call of a seagull breaks my reverie, as I witness the sunset,

Orange and green extending beyond my ken, maybe all isn't lost yet.

In the din of our desires, subdued lies the earth's vanishing beauty's cry,

As I walk along the shore, and a wrapper flows by...

©Copyright Darshil A Shastri 

Little Feet in Dump Yards

The train chugs into another concrete mass that promises dreams,

those holed up in the high cubicles don’t look down it seems.

How the pace of life and burden of expectations weighs down,

as the dark allies, corners, streets blur in the dazzle of tinsel town.

See through the charade of malls, flyovers and high rises,

sift through the filth, the slums, the rot, that everyone despises.

In those realms of hopelessness, struggle and abject misery,

shall you find smiling faces, tiny little feet, bare but satisfactory.

Half torn shirts, dirty feet, rough hands, oblivious to the city around,

Expectations burden, families shouldered, their solace lies in dump grounds.

Run, play, sleep, earn in what others refuse to use,

Sans books, schools, uniforms, their world painted in harsh hues.

Rejection awaits at every step, as they face the world on their own,

in cities filled with millions of people, they find themselves alone.

Yet as their tears run dry, they toil away, smiling, searching for their bliss,

as those little feet roam in dump yards, innocence isn’t lost, but childhood is.

 ©Copyright Darshil A Shastri

Unsettling the dust

Change. Around us, within us, because of us, all the time, and truly said, the only constant in the world. Technology and adaptation has made this world truly a smaller place, where humans are constantly on the move, in search of newer opportunities and challenges, or just to experience the myriad of experiences this tiny blue dot in space has to offer. And so there is change everywhere, a constant presence in our lives. Paradoxically, within this change lies the familiarity of routines. Mundane, exciting, dangerous, consuming; driving our lives through the warps of time. Yet, amidst these cycles of changes, followed by routines that change in those cycles, some strands manage to stay attached, across distances, genders, boundaries and time-zones. Yes, the people we meet, whose lives affect us and whose lives we affect.

The world we live is getting smaller every day, and along with it, we are getting singular too. There are more instant messaging services today than options of sensible leadership, and they have revolutionized our lives. But take a closer look at the exchanges that occur daily, and we see that for all of their innovations and speed, the people we talk to and meet, can be counted on our fingertips. There will be more than 1,000 friends on our Facebook profile,  and 500 likes on our pics, yet when we wish to talk to someone out of the blue, chances are that it’s the person who is now a part of our mundane routines. The point here not being that we talk to all those people out there, but the fact that they are there in our friend list for a reason.  Yes, we all have those close friends with whom only we would like to talk to, but such is the complexity and connectivity of human lives, that there probably many more people with whom you share special bonds out there, but the grind of time has allowed dust to settle on these relations. A hiking trip together, or a week spent together in some conference, coffee table friendships, school buddies with whom once we were close, office colleagues who were friendly rivals once and many more. Just take a pause right now, and surf through your contact book or friend list, looking at every name and try and think of a reason why it is there. Yes, the smiles are coming, aren’t they?

Nothing is more surprising and joyous than finding that lost old connect. We might be immersed into our lives, with problems and deadlines and future plans, but one call from a long lost friend or and we forget everything, laughing over the old times, making promises of meeting up, which rarely materialize, but nonetheless, give us simple joy and time flies by like never before. Then why the hesitation? All of us must have received the never ending forward messages that ask to send to all friends, but we simply ignore it. We think that the other person is too busy, or why should we be the people willing to take the first step? We fear that we might not be relevant enough in their lives to be remembered.  That too much dust has settles with time. I agree, the first step might be awkward at times, but once the cobwebs give away, all it takes is one long talk, one meeting, one greeting, renewing that bond for years to come. All we need to do is unsettle the dust.

 
©Copyright Darshil A Shastri

Beneath those eyes

Amidst the crowd, yet lost in worlds of her own,

the glassy look conveys that she prefers to stay alone.

Laughter and indifference is the façade that charades through the day,

but those bluish eyes reveal the stories she wouldn’t say.

Judgmental and hard, the world often inconspicuously insinuates,

puts under microscope every action, trying to manipulate.

She bears through it all, a stoic resistance that refuses to fade,

 because for her the black and white is marred into somber shades.

Is it some guilt she carries or scars of yesterday that stay green?

A voice left unheard, emotions acknowledged unseen?

Fiercely guarding her independence, in moments of celebration,

Scrape through the tough exterior, subdued lie voices of compassion.

Soon the crowd shall disperse, each soul mindlessly onto its own way,

but I hope our paths do cross again some other day.

Then the story shall change hopefully, I think amidst the sea of goodbyes,

Admiring the steely resolve that lies beneath those eyes.

©Copyright Darshil A Shastri

Beyond Horizons

The land merges with sky, yet distinct,
It’s in my sight, gray at times, at times vivid.
I yearn to reach the merging of destinies of sky and land,
It avoids my grasp, yet it beckons me.

Bright orange under the setting sun, blinding my eyes,
The breeze; my messenger to the infinite,
Subsides silently, as my eyes close to illusions,
Melancholy is in the air, wistfulness in me.

I adore the horizons from a distance,
The distance that can’t be traversed,
Sans conviction, I walk towards desire,
Reality in face, the horizon walk away even further….

©Copyright Darshil A Shastri

In Love.. Or so they say..

So, it is that time of the year again, when Mr. Cupid has turned into a workaholic, striking many unassuming people at will. The week long saga of “love” culminated into the much waited (arguably) Valentine’s Day. The couples will be lost in their oblivious bliss, the singles will wry their hands at sights all day while the people with recent break-ups will be in their wanton memories. In this milieu of emotions, hapless souls often get lost, about what they really feel or think, and end up going with the flow, only to realize it’s not where they intended to be. And the herd mentality takes over.

Well no one can claim to be an expert on the matters related to heart, and being a guy, clichéd as it may sound, understanding what a girl thinks is beyond the realms of human capacities. But the banter aside, how often do we get carried away by all these hue and cry around us, that literally ‘markets’ love and are often compelled to take part due to peer pressure? Riding on the motto of ‘Fortune favours the brave’, we take the plunge, unsure of waits further. And the perpetual question of “what if’s”?  Egos and emotions surface inconspicuously.  Put all of these in a cauldron, adding a touch of jealousy and insecurity, and we have the Valentine’s Day for majority of the people, running around like headless chickens. Agreed that the dynamics of heart are beyond the purview of the mind, but the least we can do is just think about what we feel. 

If we look at it from a very broad context, humans are probably the only species that is affected by ‘pheromones.’ Call it a blessing or curse, unlike most species, which primarily come together only for mating, humans have this urge to be with someone for emotional and mental support. The doubling of joys and reducing of sorrows, support and the talks over long walks, the silent nod of the head to the wink of the eyes, the bottom line is we are gregarious creatures. We are affected by people around us. And thus, we often get swayed by what is happening around us. That’s the time, we just need to get a grip on ourselves, and just think calmly about what we feel. Because deep down inside, we know the choices we have to make, we know what we want. The only problem is accepting what lies there. And that is where we fabricate stories and live in make believe worlds. We pretend something else, but by the time we realize it, we have gone too far to pretend anything else.

If anyone remember the movie Baghban, the way Amitabh Bachchan asks Hema Malini, “Will you be my valentine?” And she replies, “I’ve been that for 40 years.” Today, where being together for 4 months is a cause of celebration, maybe we all can just take a leaf from that. No one exactly knows what being in love is like, then why rush into it and loose out the moments of knowing the other person. So, maybe all we need to do is ask ourselves before we get carried away in this swirling melodrama, is this what we really want? Or is it love, as they say it?

©Copyright Darshil A Shastri