Tempted

• Tempted
  By: Akhilesh Agarwal
  
  It calls for me, calls me to come chase
  The voice so sweet, so tempting heart
  I hear it in me, I hear it out
  Wont you tell it to stop? I could do without
  The melodious tune burns my veins 
  For I cant go there I just so cant
  As it is now in the dark and my soul
  Cant handle the suspense anymore
  So let it shut and stop giving me hope
  For I might follow it someday and burn me whole.

Delight

Delight
By: Akhilesh Agarwal

Love is not as they say a delight
For seldom you feel the light
Believe me when I say
Though the will, never a way

Keep your glasses packed and wine-
down the drain
Sanity is the best addiction
Sing the merry way

Love is not as they say a delight
For forbidden it is in daylight
So keep your hopes packed and life-
down the drain.

Faith To Fathom

Faith to Fathom

By: Akhilesh Agarwal

I, Tom Jones, lowered the tinted windows of the red Pajero to get a clear look at the soothing daffodil fields that stretched as far as one’s naked eyes could see: swaying to the breeze and humming a melodious tune of their own. The afternoon sky was white and cloudless, a dull picture but my trip to India had been far from dull; it had instead been so refreshing that it felt that I had been hibernating. But now I felt awakened.

I craned my neck to look at a beautiful pond amidst the fields which was as clear as sky and calm as my soul and I had just begun to admire it when I was interrupted by a cough from my driver, Mr. Sahane. Mr. Sahane was an old and wrinkled man with dark brown eyes and swarthy complexion and despite his dusty and worn clothes exuded a sense of wisdom and understanding, as though he knew.

 

Mr. Sahane began, ‘Saaheb, if it wouldn’t be a problem with you there is a very magnificent Krishna temple nearby. Would you like to go?’

A little uncomfortable with Mr. Sahane addressing me as ‘Saaheb’ or ‘Sir’ when he was much older than me, I told him for the umpteenth time to call me Tom instead. Mr. Sahane just turned deaf ears.

‘Well, if it’s so ruddy good, why would a bloke want to miss it?’ I beamed and then seeing the confusion on Mr. Sahane’s face said, ‘Yes. I would be delighted.’

 

After fifteen minutes of smoke, dust and spectacles of nature, we were standing at the bottom of the stairs of an enormous white temple with exquisite marble work and carvings that made a person stand and stare. How well had Mr. Sahane expounded it: Magnificent!

          The marble idols were adorned with various gold jewelleries on one and every body part. It looked as though the angels of Heaven had made it their abode. As I forced my eyes away from it, I was startled. Standing near the idols was a handicapped man with only one hand and a leg and was fanning the idol with his intact hand. I was disgusted and repulsed. How could an already suffering person be made to suffer more? How could anybody be so cruel to make him pain like this!

 

As Mr. Sahane completed the parikrama of the idol, I immediately asked (okay, I screamed), ‘How can they do this to him?’ I began pointing to the poor fellow, ‘Don’t they feel any shame! I am sure it must be some last birth’s bad karma nonsense. It is ridiculous. Can’t we do anything about it?’ I breathlessly said as I made up my mind to surely save the man from his suffering.

          ‘We don’t need to do anything, Saaheb’, he smiled (certainly didn’t help the frustration that was building inside me!).

          ‘What do you mean we don’t need to do anything? Just look at him!’ I said exasperated.

          ‘Oh, I can certainly see him and what I see is the intense satisfaction on his face and not his deformities.’

 

          And sure enough when I looked away from his leprosy and at his face, I was startled yet again. There was bliss there as if he was not looking at an idol of God but God himself! There was such devotion on his face, so pure and simple: just like love. Only I realized that devotion was so much more, it demanded nothing and gave everything, it sacrificed all its comforts and expected not a penny in return.

         

          ‘Well, I certainly can’t see what is making him so happy. Where is the pleasure?’ I asked confused.

 

‘In small good things.’ He stated and seeing the confusion lines on my forehead deepen, shook his head and continued, ‘Let me tell you about him. He was a very rich landlord once but not the oppressive kind. He was loved and respected by everyone, he was an ideal man. But it is the Rule of Life that when one becomes too good, one is tested even more harshly. In a terrible car accident, he lost his whole family: a wife and two oh-so-little children, and also became handicapped.

Instead of involving himself in self-pity or agony, he came to this temple and here he says he found peace. Oh, how every human yearns for peace, but in the end, only the wise attain it.’ He shook his head and coughed again and continued, wiping his mouth, ‘He distributed his land and manor and decided to become a caretaker of this place. He calls this his home now and the God his family.’

 

I looked away from Mr. Sahane to look at the man again and saw that he was gazing at me intently. His intense eyes were dark black: like Death or a calm night sky. He gave a small smile and I smiled back at him. Who said God couldn’t be found in temples? I had just seen one.

 

 

 

 

Love And Hate

Love And Hate
By: Akhilesh Agarwal

You looked at me and smiled that smile
That smile that strangled me
Such hatred i felt and such i suffer
To try not to love thee
The dawn that mocks my heart
Heart that never rises from dreams
Everything is hidden in dark
But light is slowly probing, it seems
Light brought by you in my crevice
You slowly gather me
But i am scared of this heart
That reveals such dark secrets to me
Now i know that all i had for thee
Was Love and all hatred was for me.

Life You Call it?

Life You Call It

By: Akhilesh Agarwal

That misty sky and that misty land
Those misty eyes and those misty tears
The hope of dawn moves you along
On this harsh path we call Life

Those sudden accusations and dreadful attributions
The love of them, the loss of them
That dreadful nights in Fate's lap
Murdering ourselves in what we call Life

That aching pain in middle of our chest
And those hopeless sighs in middle of nowhere
Breathe in and out for you are here
And you have to survive this torture called Life

These Memories And Little Things

These Memories And Little Things
By: Akhilesh Agarwal

In silence of nights and darkness of skies
Is the time these memories rise
A lady dreams about running in wild
Searching for her long buried little child
An addicted teenager dreams about how bad was his fate
The day he had tried his first cigarette
And the forlorn husband about the day his wife ran away
And so hopelessly hopes that she had come back a day
And an old lady of those wicked wars
in which her husband joined those shiny stars
But among them all a little soul sleeps
Thinking of how beautifully his mother sings

Unnoticeable Disfigurement

"Tomorrow is often the busiest day of the week." - Spanish Proverb

A man, too good to be true, scarred for life
In his rush, hit a truck and lost a leg
And then spilled more tears over his departing wife
His love for her: an unnoticeable disfigurement

Children threw stones at him, to check if he could run again
As he limped his way across the lane
Crutches as support, matters were worsened by rain
His courage against the odds: an unnoticeable disfigurement

From his increasing loneliness, no one could save
And in a dusky night he hanged himself
People exclaimed how weak he was over his grave
His struggle for fairness: an unnoticeable disfigurement