Eagle’s Eye (Part 2)

Click here to read the first part: Eagle’s Eye (Part I)

A strange man
With deceitful yet modest eyes,
Entered the city’s gates
Knowing that ahead, someone awaits.

Once a bustling market
Now stood lone,
But perhaps it was just night
Not villager’s plight.

It was a peasant who asked him,
Who was he?
He looked up, it was dawn
And without a word, he travelled on.

It was just time, when
Into the rotten heart
Of the city, he had reached
To begin the final deed.

He stood before Eagle’s Eye,
Though nothing was clear
In the growing mist;
His arms were now
Wide open, calling to it.

Without any delay
To his shoulder it plunged;
It shall always follow
Its master’s tinkle,
The white-headed Eagle.


Eagle’s Eye (Part 1)

Creaking floors
Hinged doors,
In its walls
A thousand secrets dwelled;
The whole neighborhood gazed.

Inside the epitome of magnificence,
Children’s cries echoed
And voices of damsels chimed;
But all was once upon a time.

Suns rose and suns set,
The wretched day arrived.
The Royal Family disappeared,
Believed to have been massacred.

No witness, living or dead,
Just an Eagle with a white head.
On the old Oak it perched
And days and weeks passed.

What and who was a mystery,
Though everything was considered,
From the enemy kingdom
To a beast and a phantom.

Since it has been covered in mist,
The reticent, ancient giant.
Broken where dread had been,
Not another soul was ever seen.

The hawker who once passed near it
Claimed to have seen the Royal Family,
“The Queen and the King, didn’t at all grow,
It was a merry family, just like twelve years ago.”

Villagers called him a mad man
Threw him out of the town,
The Eagle saw it all
As it circled the ancient walls,
And to this day
Continues the moot mystery,
Of the place called Eagle’s Eye.

Click here to read the second part: Eagle’s Eye (Part II)

And It Goes On

When I laid back to get all the shit that is going on in my life together, this thing popped up in my head—when will I again be that stress-free person, with absolutely no duty? When will I become that kid again who could roam in the house, bumping into things, not giving a hoot about anyone and could literally waste his time? At every point in future, I’ll be having more than a couple of tasks to manage simultaneously. But I can’t do anything about it, not when the world is holding the oars of my boat.

Just yesterday, I was that gullible boy, who knew nothing but the walls of his house and the voices of his peers. Today, I’m a gullible boy, who knows nothing much beyond the walls of his house, the voices of his peers and is hidden under innumerable and invisible responsibilities. I am afraid to be the soul that just learnt to fly, but never took flight.


Somewhere in this world there’s a man wrongly convicted for a crime he didn’t commit. There’s a woman diagnosed with cancer when more than half of her life lies ahead of her. There’s a farmer crying before the merciless nature.

These people are losing the one thing when they need it the most. They all are losing hope. Being pessimistic and hopeless is the worst thing you can do to yourself. Remember that.


Words won’t heal it
When words did it,
But don’t you worry
I can live with it.
Life has always asked me
To live this way,
So instead of quibbling
And making a fool of myself
Over and over
I shall always submit,
I learnt that everyone won’t get
What they desire,
Someone has to walk
Through the eternal wait,
Someone has to lose
To despicable fate.

The Wait

She sat silently, waiting, looking out the window towards the brick laden path surrounded by green, neatly trimmed hedges which led to the front gate. The gate, barely visible, shrouded by fog and smoke, led out to the main road. The road, she thought. Always crowded, bustling, full of chirp, noise and life. But not today. Today was different.
A tear rolled down her cheek. She choked a sob and cleared her throat. She could still hear people screaming, scurrying, wailing for help, dying.
They had come unannounced. Like predators, soft and silent in the dark of night. Machines and men, cold-blooded, full of pure evil, shooting and bombing, killing the innocent. She could still hear them screaming, gunfire ringing in her ears.
She waited, for news of a man she may never see again, her husband. But she couldn’t lose hope. The sound of a car cleared her thoughts. She straightened her hair, rearranged her clothes. A dark black sedan pulled up in front of the gate. An old man, wearing a black pin-striped suit, with a white beard and a black hat came through the gate. His eyes were full of tears and he looked like he hadn’t slept in months. She ran out through the door and stopped in front of him, expectantly, searching for answers in his eyes. There were none. He took of  his hat and bowed his head, as if in mourning. She cried.
The waiting was over.


Any minute now
It will walk upto you
And touch you with its
Cold finger
Then take you to
Apparent Nothingness
But why should you fret
Highly misinterpreted
This is something beautiful
When someone’s life becomes
Someone else’s tale
Just like it is necessary
To silent every boat’s sail