In the eyes

The sun was bright that day.

My watch died on me. It stopped dead in its tracks, but a clear knife cut through soon enough. Time didn't.
And it wouldn't stop if I failed. I would not stop, even if I did. And as long as this world will turn, it will continue its course. A course that has no end, for it is a loop.
The final countdown has begun, and this is surely not a dream.

The clock has begun to tick life away.

So many times have I felt the urge to put a gun to my head, but I always stopped before pulling the trigger. There was a force of people who took that gun away from me, and burned it in a corner of hell. And it is those people, that I would like to thank today.
So, thank you all.
Thank you Mom, Dad and Family. For working with me when I became hostile. Without your help, I may not have been who I am today. I may not have put up this blog, and you may not be reading this.
Thank you jang!! and sataract, for offering your help, and teaching me a variety of coded languages(!).
Thank you Sid, for giving me precious pieces of advice, without which I would end up like the millions, with regret in their mind.
And there has been a certain light, brightening up my Tuesday nights, credit goes to Miss Rakshanda Khan for that.
And last, but certainly not even close to least, thank you Sania Mirza, for being the inspired and the inspiring.

And as I looked outside my window today, I did not see any rain. No clouds either. But when I looked outside, I saw children playing. Sounds of their joyous songs, the jeers and sneers...
That reminded me, of my days back then. I was happy, waiting for somewhat of a miracle to happen...

Till then, there is hope.
And it is hope, that drives me. That's why I check my horoscope everyday. It is hope that fuels me. That's why I watch Sania's match everytime.
It is hope that's keeping me alive.
Hope, that some day, I will fly like the eagles. Hope, that one day, kids will look up to me.
Hope, that one day, I will win.

Wake me up when March ends

The rain is nothing new. The sky has been black, as black as night, all day. Number 52***** puts the oil in the midnight flame.

He is unable to bear it now. The burden exceeds his limits, or so he thinks. A victim of a shattered mind, the guilt, the feeling of failure eats into him. Those termites, they've hollowed him, and now they've reached surface.

There is not much time left. The ink is in it's bottle, and Abhas just doesn't have it in him to start writing. He thinks dreaming with his eyes wide open will take him to his heights. He is on the verge of collapsing, and he wants his goals accomplished, served to him in a silver platter.

Till then, a sound echoes inside: "You're gonna keep running away?"

"Keep running away?"...
"I'm not running..."

15 years of life

This one is for all those of you who read my poems, and asked me if I really was 14. The truth be told, I no longer am 14. Yup, now I'm 15!

On having completed 15 years of existence, I realize I haven't done much. Seems I've wasted so much time, and I don't see cold, hard results. And it's often this that makes me feel guilty.

I don't understand why my parents have done so much for me, and I haven't given anything in return. I'm no ace student. But people do keep faith in me. They believe I can do better.
I dream with my eyes wide open, and I reckon there's not much I'm doing to achieve them.

There's a lot I still have to do, but will I be able to do so, and make all go as planned? A wave of doubt runs through me.

And as we go along, this world keeps turning. I just hope I don't fall behind time...

Cause for celebration #5

Like I said earlier, "When I open up the sports page, I open it up to celebrate Sania Mirza's victory".

To all those of you who still don't know what's going on, let me tell you. Sania's moving up the line, and she has reached the 'Gaz de France'. And being the winner in most situations, she's managed to defeat the sixth seed, Panneta.

Now, articles like this are really cool-great-awesome-ohmygod-and what not. And they're really helpful for me, epsecially when I'm busy tearing my head apart, worrying and studying for the boards.

And like always, I'd like to wish her the very best of luck.

Remember what I told you last time? I told you there were going to be more days like this, and there will be much more, too. So, let me hear a big hand for our FHW winner!

It is time...

Lightning tears open a cloud, but the rain is yet to fall. A worried Abhas looks outside the window, before slipping into the darkness of ink. The sound of the pages turning echoes in the hall, lit only by a dim flame.

He looks outside the window once again, as he hears the sound of the falling rain. Distracted, he shakes his head and gets back to work. As he looks into the words, he reminisces. He falls into himself, and tries to remember the time he had in the whole school year. The teachers, the books, those sneakers, the way they looked. He remembers and trips to nostalgia...
The friends, the enemies, the ends, the remedies. But he fails to remember, and is unable to get his facts right. He finds it not only difficult, but near to impossible to make sense of the letters they've written in the books. And now, there's only a month to go.

But he promises himself. He swears never to fall. He swears he will stand tall.

Boards are getting nearer by the second, and for now, all that he knows is that, pretty soon, they'll be giving him a number, and taking away his name.