One-part poetry – Ajay Jhawar

Published!!!!!

THE BOMBAY REVIEW - A Journal Of Literary Things.

I am a glass of milk mixed with mishri that started melting in the heat of summer and you, you want to drink me every morning. I am one-part routine and you are 12 hours work. I am taste you miss or calcium that sticks to your bones.

I am 6 hours sleep you desperately need after a long day at work. I am dreams, you are real, and for reasons strange you want it otherwise. I am one-part energy and you are 8 am in the morning, ready for another fight.

I am temptation, you are stress that will fall in the trap. I am the justification of sin and you are the sinner, but then I am ugly and you have a reputation. I am one-part confidence, you are patriarchy.

I am a handhold, you are a broken heart locked in a room, where light hasn’t reached and…

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The Journey Home

Written On A Whim

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Walking alone towards home

I ponder over my destiny.

Each day as I return from work

It seems as though the setting sun

Wants my daily progress report

And sinks in disappointment

Seeing meagre achievements.

Walking under the amber lights

I look at fellow humans

In a rush to reach home themselves

Or perhaps to reach their workplace, I know not.

For some, the road is their workplace;

Their sullen faces betraying disappointment

Frustration and monotony.

I also see people amble past.

As if they are from another realm.

Families of four, crowds of three, groups of two.

They appear rich, in wealth and in love;

Their sight compounds my frustrations

And convinced that I am a lone warrior

I trod along with heavier steps.

Feeling emptier than before.

As I open the door to my home

My mother receives me with a smile

Glad that I came back

For every day is a struggle.

In the warmth of my home

I realize a great fool I was

To have deemed myself miserable

I am but as wealthy as any other,

My bastion of love filled with definitely more occupants to come.

But bastions don’t move with the warrior, do they?

And so I go off to sleep

With my blade of hope re-sharpened.

The next day cynicism shall blunt it again

And the setting sun shall still remain unimpressed.

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Puzzles

Sometimes I just sit and think about creating something, like using some symbols that might have looked weird had it not been our daily routine to see them without questioning about its base and validity. Though I never liked puzzles, but still every day I solve this puzzle that requires me to make something meaningful … Continue reading Puzzles