The World Shall Never Know

The world shall never know,

The anguish hidden beneath the mind,

No words to say,

Dropping the fragile heart behind, I walk my way,

Those devilish seeming smiles, their nonsensical stupidity,

Trying to conjure something in the name of comedy,

The world then seems so different,

With me in my lone spot and the world seeming indifferent,

Laugh and they laugh with you,

Cry and you cry alone.

A piece of cake is relished with the eyes closed,

What the eyes never see, is the burnt fingers that cooked it.

The world seems a symphony of chaos,

It sings a different tune, each time,

But it shall never hear what I say,

The world shall never know when I walked away.

Subrat Mohanty

Advertisements

Soliloquy Of My Mind

I sit and stare

At my mind left bare.

Sparks of the past shimmering in the moments of present,

Rising amidst the smoke of my solitary lament.

I speak yet I don’t know why the words refuse to stop.

Ears have grown cold and the tongue, a bit tired.

Yet the mind is stirred and fired.

I make a silent bonfire in the corner of the world,

Pouring out all the thoughts, that lay hidden somewhere within.

Hues of emotions – I see them glimmering.

Few stubborn ones – I hear them crackling.

I pass into the oblivion as they turn into ashes,

Without any hope and without despair,

Just with a prayer to face the tomorrow without any anticipation and care.

Subrat Mohanty

The Crowd In The Delhi Metro Train

The world out there seems to be rushing for it’s life,

Determined not to give an inch beside, the journey is like the one on the edge of the knife.

Serpentine queues that sometimes, know no end,

Stubborn train crowd determined not to let in anymore, ready to shout and defend,

Yet the few strong ones still creep in,

Heaving a sigh of relief near the door, like an athelete after his win.

One of them is caught unaware sitting at a place meant for someone else,

An old finger points him out and he knows his luck almost always fails.

In this suffocating rush of the urban life,

The myriad shades of world come to life.

A bunch of children bubbling with joy of their new toys,

A happy mother gazing at her baby whose smile she silently enjoys,

While another delicate soul lets out a cry somewhere,

Amidst the chaos thrown up everywhere,

Nevertheless, you find few intimate private moments unraveling on the near door seats,

Words are whispered, smiles are exchanged and then the eyes meets.

In the mundane cycle of life, the crowd drags on each day,

Station after station, train after train – that is the story that it all has to say.

Subrat Mohanty

My Unkempt Bed

I sit in a corner and gaze at it for a while,

Mismatching clothes scattered here and there, things missing from their places from a mile.

All my things dumped in a poly bag lying at the far most corner of the bed,

Life seems a collage of mismatching pieces, these days

Of changed routines and distorted ways,

Slipping on the lanes of time, while looking back at my past.

I try to figure out how my present shall look from now,

Such questions are scattered all over my mind

While I try to arrange things, out of their place

In hope that it looks once again orderly and beautiful

In hope that life becomes once again harmonious and peaceful

I lay my head on the pillow of my dreams

Hoping that the morning is brighter than it now seems.

Subrat Mohanty

Why I am silent ?

I once sang a song of my dreams.

No sooner did it turn into an irony for me.

For what I dreamt once intensely, turned it’s face and walked away forever from me.

I know not whether people walk away or time simply rushes by.

Something happens though I know not why,

A crazy head swings somewhere wildly while another heart is left silently to die.

They consoled me, they counselled me.

The other side of life – they asked me to see.

The theories of betrayals that they preached so often,

Whose murmurs hardly ever dampen.

I know not how many minds I now provoke.

but today, I stand under the lonely moonlit sky and invoke

That me-that childishly simple me,

Who is free to go about the world and see.

Not fearing who thinks what but to simply be the me.

Now, I just whisper couplets of my silence,

Seeking solace far from the world, all alone in their absence.

Subrat Mohanty

Few questions

Amidst the air of desolation,

my mind wanders somewhere,

Somewhere behind the mountains,

To somewhere up above the clear sunlit sky,

I can’t figure out what it searches for, why wanders so.

Amidst the cruise of life, I wish I could slow,

For some time to ask these mountains, these sand dunes – what is life like

An oasis to chase for or a river quietly trickling beneath waiting to be discovered,

A song to be written down or a tune to be hummed from heart and forever to be remembered.

Subrat Mohanty