The Forgotten Man

Perhaps this is uncertain

But has he become an ‘also ran’

Just another forgotten man.

The story goes long way back in time

But it is etched clearly in my mind.

He was declared a prodigy

With people around him indulging in demagoguery.

He was told he would do something big

Maybe own a hotel or an oil rig.

But now when he faces such feelings, all inspiring

He believes it to be his ego conspiring.

Because when the curtains fall

He doesn’t know what they may recall.

Has he become an ‘also ran’

Just another forgotten man.

It all started with a big-bang

The world around him seemed like it sang

His praises, his glory

As if it were to become a great story.

But somewhere he lost the plot

And all his efforts came to a naught.

He got lonely and isolated

For some phony and frustrated.

At last he asks with an apologetic tone

What will the world write on his tombstone.

Was he an ‘also ran’

Just another forgotten man.

The Rage Within

There is a rage within, a mutiny
Striving to alter the destiny.
An overwhelming atmosphere of competition
Having no ethics or apprehensions.
Which leads us to the ultimate question
Is it the path to real satisfaction
Or rather an expressway to annihilation ?

Even in our nascent form
We are told to perish or perform.
Words like success and domination
Have replaced kindness and compassion.
Flaunting wealth is the new convention
Another right under the freedom of expression.
With the emphasis on recognition at the world's stage
There is an eternal fire, a surreal rage.

However with the rise in stature
One succumbs to the peer pressure.
Entangled in a web of illusions
We decide to live in seclusion.
Perhaps the greatest honour, the ultimate salvation
Preaches the practise of restitution.
It is time to stop the rampage
To extinguish the unforgiving internal rage.

Cocaine

It felt like flying
Or unintentional crying.
It made the colours look so bright
Leaving no sense of what is wrong or right
It relieved all the stress and strain
That, my friend, is cocaine.

It starts with a small dose
And a mental note of 'no repeats' enclosed
But life always has been about compromise
Precisely that is where the trap lies
Because no matter how hard you restrain
You will still crave for a gram of cocaine.

Thus starts a viscous cycle
A war within, although psychological
Shattering dreams and hindering your vision
Leaving you restless and reinforcing illusion.

Thus for a growth that you can sustain
Unleash the power you contain
Remember time and again
Say no to cocaine.

Tribute to an engineer

This is a tribute to an engineer
Surviving his everyday fear
Of dipping sessionals and grades
For there is too much at stake.
Still he lives his life to the fullest
Probably that's what makes him the coolest.

He starts his day with dreams galore
For there is too much to learn, too much to explore.
Holding back no more
He constantly challenges the theories of yore.
With enthusiasm rubbing off his shoulder
He sets his sight on making the machine of the year.

However that's where the sweet dream ends
As he gets stuck in a truck load of assignments.
Every deadline missed is a great failure
Rewarded with the professor's stern glare.
Such an atmosphere of hostility
Ridicules his only asset, his creativity.
Yet his voice retains its cheer
And that's why I want to cherish being an engineer.

The Queen Bee

Friends say I have been acting strange
Although that is not the only change.
Call me a stupid or a nutcase
But first put yourself in my place
For then you will see that it is not easy for me
After all I have fell for The Queen Bee.

Be it the scorching heat or a tender drizzle
She never ever ceases to sizzle.
The moment our eyes meet
My heart misses a beat.
So tell me what I have to be
For she is all that I need, The Queen Bee.

Around her I feel jittery
Unable to think logically.
Petrified with the fear of rejection
I avoid asking the question.
If only once she could see
That it was always her, The Queen Bee.

You Will Never Walk Alone

Although I might have been shy
But facts are something one can't deny.
So let me state the unknown
You will never walk alone.

I have seen underneath the veneer of insanity
Lies an unsullied soul nodding sagely.
I have figured in you a fire
Which I silently admire.
So bright, it may lighten up the night sky
Believe me, not a word of it is a lie.

However, in times when your hope is gone
Don't give up, because I know you can carry on.
In phases, when the chips are down
I will be around to play the clown.
In moments, when you are under strain
There will be not one, but two persons in pain.
No matter how great the differences and distance
I will be by your side in an instant.
You are the one I care for, my cornerstone
Trust me, YOU WILL NEVER WALK ALONE.

GT / Mass Bunk

Mass bunk also known as GT
is the litmus test of a batch's unity.
The two alphabets 'G' & 'T' when together enchanted
leaves most elated, yet some deflated.
It is the ultimate weapon, the saving grace,
for the consequences, of unfinished assignments, we have to face.
Its conspirators call it a 'bail-out'
from the lectures and labs which freak us out.

However, those low on attendance
see it as a roadblock on their path to penance.
While teachers term it blasphemy
Their sermons rarely overwhelm me.
So am I against or in its favour?
I say - Hell Yeah! The devil may care!

The Imposter and the Silent Observer

I know this is politically incorrect
But this is the moment to be precise and direct.
It is time to call spade a spade
And end this endless monotonous charade.
For those who assumed me to be a novice
My aggression might take them by surprise.

Set out to make a name
You embarked on the road to 'fame'
But it is a pity, such a shame
You lost your credibility and are left with false claims.
All your activities are shrouded in secrecy
Each moment hatching a new conspiracy.
Look at what you have become
A walking carcass of lies and venom.

I am tired of your sickening mind games
Your chronic habit of dropping names.
Taking for granted my pride
You think I can't see as if I were blind.
I despise your cobwebs of deceit
If at all, kindly mend your ways atleast.
I am exasperated and can no longer pretend
Its not a rant but a humble plea my friend.

The Unkindest Cut

Just been through the worst Exam Season
Which had given me enough to ponder and reason.
I scratch my head and let the memory crawl
Searching for the unkindest cut of all.

I start with the usual suspects
My teachers whom I still respect.
Their lessons were beyond my reach
Seemed like all they wanted was to preach.
So were they the ones who drove me nuts?
Was it their's the unkindest of all cuts?

Next I lined up the examiner
For he was the executioner.
His questions were so difficult to fathom
As if prepared with just one motive - 'fail them'.
His questions had my mind in tatters
So did he deliever the unkindest of all cuts?

Alas just as Caeser had a friend like Brutus
I too had my fair share of betrayers.
They were all around me
Yet their answer-booklets, I could not see.
I yelled at them silently
Begged for their benevolence and answer for question three.
Their apathy made me sick to my guts
Perhaps their's was the unkindest of all cuts.