We...

I will walk with you among the stars…
I told him one day,
The lazy sun chuckled at us,
Coldly there we lay…
No past, no future, no yes and no,
No strings on us to hold,
No worries, no woes, no ties, no claims
On a planet distant and old…
He smiled in true cynical charm,
Turned to me and said,
Its when you mock thus sweet,
Again and again,
That you’re actually at your best!
I matched the smile,
I matched the calm,
And came up with the unsaid…
The jests are all true my love,
But teach me to love in earnest!

Eternal mate...

Love unlove …
Build and shatter…
Support me or annihilate.
Abjure ignore…
Deny crucify…
Torture me or reciprocate.
Ignore respond…
Shelter then dismiss…
Break me or recreate.
Accept deprive…
Abandon yet hold…
Adore me or suffocate.
Teach unteach…
Laugh or mock…
Hate me and retaliate.
I live in you…
Am part of you…
Your fleeting shadow…
Your eternal mate.

Avatars of Hrithik!!

Dreamy-eyed maidens coming out of Inox blush,
Their hearts are full of him, upon their minds descends a hush!
His mane of crimson gold, his flawless Grecian face,
O heavens is he really an Indian or of the Homeric race?
More charming than any knight he looks, riding his cool bike,
What are locks for such a hero, they could give their wigs outright!
O the hearts, the hearts, how often they forget their duty to beat,
It’s the anguish, the mesmerizing effect, of the dhoom2 visual treat!
O Cupid! why are maidens so lost here, so sick?
I blundered the audacious question, before realizing it was Hrithik!
The fairer, simpler sex, how often, they act this romantic,
But alas! What pity to see the saner sex too, indulge in exasperating antics!
Before tender maidens could battle and win over one,
Here are Hrithiks churning out feverishly, each minute, a dozen!
Ah! thoughtless damsels don’t pine now for getting the One,
Fate shall soon become kind, bestowing a personal Hrithik on each one.
How? oh, how? They scream, in awe and misery ask,
I smile upon the innocent ones, heaven knows, it’s a swift task!
While you shall not bask in tea-parties as Pope’s Belinda could,
New stratagems there are in plenty, like logging on to Orkut!
Flutter each briskly here and fabricate a profile,
Soon your prospects shall swell and soon the Hrithiks shall arrive.
No amorous sighs needed here, no smiles and arched brows,
Hrithik in suit, Hrithik in jeans, they shall descend upon you like crows!
The same smile, the same visage, the same hair, the same bike,
They shall haunt you, and plague you, till there’s no hell like your life!
Scenes from epics shall visit you, each and every day,
Till you tire your soul by looking at the beau, whether in dhoom2 or K3G!
Oh maidens how shall you stand, those eyes, those muscles, those looks?
The misery of tolerating Hrithiks dumbly smiling in your scrapbooks!
Soon your weak nerves shall Hrithik’s omnipresent status feel,
You shall shudder and regret and lament and say-“who wants Hrithik? Not me!”