who wants tomorrow ?
i want my past.
five years of my life

i want my time back
all tht is frozen somewhere
t childhood and t memories
tht im unable to share

im tired of asking same questions again and again
why?
where r my days?
why is t line broken?
this is unfair.
and there are no answers but a pause
... t hardest one to bare.

words convey. convey what? well, thoughts, theories, fairy tales, share markets, philosophies, news, feelings, desires, anger, love, tears, everything.
Everything?? yes, everything. What about a goldent silence then? yes, that too. words convey.. in their presence and absence too.

i love my house a lot. not because its mine, and i have no option but to love it, but i really really like my home a lot. t air, t ambiance, t people everything. except one thing. t plot next to ours. i have not seen any view as depressing as t house next to our house. i had this feeling from day one and i still have it after long nine years. contrastingly they have a mango tree which is my favourite. i bet that is t most beautiful and elegant mango tree i have ever seen. i still get lost when i look at that tree and then after some time i realise tht i have skipped some time of my life!

when someone thinks of building a house, what r t things tht he invests? time, all stringently saved money, t best of t materials, t best of t efforts, hopes and dreams. and what is it tht he expects? shelter, "home".. that is t word. HOME. how many houses have homes these days? where are all t people? where are t smiles? and laughs? and talks? people are there.. in there respective rooms, smiles.yes, while saying hi and bye.. laughs, in t tv room..and talks? none. talking is getting vanished. and talking without any reason - considered stupidity. another thought tht depresses me to t core.

i wonder, why people don't realise t importance of HOME? i used to get sad when i used to hear all t fights my neighbours used to have. there was a time when i was reluctant to go in t room tht had a window - showing t most miserable house and t most beautiful mango tree.

time is funny. it has its own way of making a story and leaving its trail. after all t fights and big words and yes, "talking", t decisions were made, t house was auctioned and so was MY mango tree. i say MY because i really think its mine. i understand it. t house now stands like a lifeless warrior. with t windows with broken glass and weeds growing up on t pipes. people leave houses but still house stands with all its potential. welcoming when people come, waiting when they leave. houses stand. like my mango tree. it blooms every year. it blooms extensively surprising everyone around.

i used to wonder.. how much time and efforts nature must have taken to make that tree and t owner of t house (now 80yrs) must have taken for this house.. by what right his son and his family ruined his house? i still wonder about it whenever i look thru tht window, t glimpse of t haunted house brings all bitter memories back and t glimpse of MY mango tree brings and restores hopes.. i hope, this house becomes a "home" one day.

i have many of those.
locks.

locks tht fasten entangled chains,
pretending earless to screaming sounds
locks tht hide all hidden pains,
never showing those ugly wounds

locks tht meander through a labyrynthine,
choking time, hopes, words and dreams
locks tht simultaneosly fail and win,
sometimes unvieling zillions of seams

times come silently when i surrender,
but t locks stay as taut
secretly enough, even my locks wonder,
is there any way out?

since when i dnt remember,
i have been searching for a key
a key to every locker of mine,
...liberating the real me