NOTE- THIS BLOG-POST DOES NOT CONTAIN THE FINISHED POETRY BUT JUST THE FIRST DRAFT OF ALL THE PUBLISHED POETRY. FOR POETRY, KINDLY REFER TO THE SEPARATE BLOG POSTS FOR SEPARATE POEMS.
samundar mein khatam ho jaane ka khouf nahi....
kinare pe zinda rehne se dar lagta hai....
ki kahin duniya na khatm kar de...
aur keh de ki ilzaam samundar par hai...
ki ullu tab bhi jaagte hain, jab ho andhiyaari raat...
kismat unki bhi hoti hai, jinke hote nahi haath...
mat ro phooti kismat pe, aur lado duniya se aaj...
ki jab tujh kutte ka din aayega, tab ye phooti kismat hi jud ke degi tumhaara saath...
Last yr. my project was pending and was never ending...
On the day of Holi, I woke up late by the call of my fellow classmate,
He said, "We have to work today", I asked,"Seriously! On 'this' day?"
Hearing this, I woke up fast, and took an instant bath,
Which took my 10 minutes time, well, then, time was sublime.
Then I got dressed, and off I go, to find my juniors on the road.
They were painted, ready to paint. I wasn't ready to get a staint.
They ran towards me, shouting,"Bhaiya, today is Holi, We want to be part of your story."
I explained to them,"I have a project. Your presence here, I didn't expect."
They said,"bhaiya, today is holi and we will paint. We have heard your stories and you are no saint."
I then said," OK, but paint me less. And since I have project I will clean my flesh."
They painted me red. They painted me blue. Then, to wash my face, I went to the loo.
To do the project, I continued to my department. It was a building, not an apartment.
There in the department, I met my friend; who, didn't play holi (like me), was doing project instead.
He said,"Lets grind the metal." It was Visakhapatnam, not Seattle.
He said,"We'll use the machine oil." I commented,"Our clothes will be soiled."
"Wear the apron. There." "Where should we start?" "Anywhere."
Then we started with the grind. It was automatic and not wind.
The lubricant flowed down, then went up. Because of grinding, it went up.
Up was the water, mixed with oil. For clothes, nothing left, but to soil.
When it ended, it was glory. Watching my soiled clothes, I said to myself,"Happy Holi."
Since from Ranchi, Playing holi was in my gene. But this year, it was with the machine.
work finish and bag pack, I went to my next home
GUSAC(GITAM UNIVERSITY STUDENT ACTIVITY CENTER)--official
Hence ends this wonderless story. I wish all of you guys, a very very very happy holi.
It's a festival don't let it waste. Paint your friends. Make haste.
