A perfect poem for me is the one which remains with the reader for a long time. If it is about life, the reader should correlate with it and refer to it whenever he faces a similar situation for example, The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. If it is fantasy, then it should be brilliant enough to leave the reader exhausted with orgasmic pleasure of reading it. And I believe that a successful blank verse is the greatest and toughest form of poetry.
He scurries his way out to the Bazaar
Ah! The Bazaar! Where resides his heaven!
He can’t have any of them and he just knows it,
That pa doesn’t have the fuel which runs this world, the green leaves and shiny pennies
Near Abdul Kaka’s mart lies his treasure
And the chests come not in silver or gold but bright crimson
And gosh! It tastes heaven!
This heaven unlike others comes for gratis
Someday, he may be moneyed enough to buy and leave the bottles half-emptied for some poor little scum like himself
Till then, he can feast on his treat with blithe and blasé.
They were behind the cloudy curtains
Exchanging their places, up in the Eden
Someone I call “me” was passing by
Oh! No, not in the skies but on the road far by
Held up in some work, I had wasted my whole day
Tired, weary, I was, least to say
Unaware of what happened all around
My head swinging on merry go round.
This whole thing in the skies “the exchange of seats”
Had taken a back seat
Mother was having her share clouds
Breezes accompanying the dusty shrouds
Just when came the sound of SPLASH
What happened had happened in a flash
Followed by what we call tip-toeing
The wet concrete beneath me just got some mowing
Sun by now in his dreams
the moon was in the quilts deaf enough to hear the rainy screams
I was all alone fighting the water in dark
Finding my way was never this hard
Blindfolded by the seductive night
My feet remaining my only might
Nobody followed, nobody was either
Nobody does in such a weather
Its just that sound of my steps
Trying to wake up the milky ball behind the clouds who already slept
It was faint though
I was just walking in a row
There was no better feeling
Soft drops on cheeks only cause the eternal healing
It couldn’t have gone crazier
I was never this lazier
On the steps to my portal
I felt the relief that was immortal
Yeah I hadn’t spoken a word that night
My eyes as well were out of might
Nothing else helped me either
It was just that sound which did the favor.
It was a great experience but writing about sports means basically putting records and numbers in words and I got bored out of it.
What are you currently writing?
I am currently working on a manuscript by the name of Shanty of Shantaram other than random poems and short stories now and then.
Where is your favorite place on earth?
My favorite place on earth will always remain my homeland India. The reason is the colors it imparts. Unlike the sophisticated West, Indians like to live impulsively and they are never out of color in life. There is always, always so much happening in every nook of this country. It is just magically unbelievable, also it is my home and I feel safe here. Having said that, if I can, I want to explore Europe to its deepest. I am always enticed by its beauty, especially Paris and Rome.
I am more of a laid back and a hardcore romantic person, and so is my taste in music and movies too. I like to live at my own little pace and don't compete much for anything.