A ride to countryside

Returned from a trip to madar lake. Badi. Started out comfortably from home relying on google to drop off sure footed. But suddenly the roads got narrower, not enough to fit our car, the turns got impossibly T shaped and we drove with none of the relaxedness and leisure of the start. Stopped twice only to become aware of the fact that is to be traversed on foot, dipped in stream water. Put the car in reverse gear, hoping that the fact cannot be true and somewhere around is a path which ends in to the lake and there we will get to open our sandwiches, as planned. Started asking around for the right road and came to know that the place we should have gone to was choti madar lake. Not the badi one. The choti one has perfect accessibility. Mourned on our lack of proper research and kept on to reach the wrong place. Reached finally. Also got to see a few other faces besides ours. Straightaway got warned that the place is going to be flooded in a few hours. Opened our sandwiches and clicked some photographs simultaneously. Always kept an eye on the exit and soon started walking towards it. Made a video of us walking through a dense canopy of trees, amongst the shrubs, nearing the end of the shortest picnic ever. Started back the car, drove again through the miniature road-art before emerging on the way back home. 

Welcome home!

Battle

I once saw a battlefield 

with none of the artilleries' din.

It was quiet as a sleeping baby

and mercy was not wished for

at the sharp end of the sword.

But the warriors were a multitude,

each stranded with his own battle before him.

No warrior is a match to the affronted power

and all are in search of the slaying weapon.

Some have chosen 

love,

faith,

will,

but what is secretly given to them all

is a brave face.

Sea

O how guilty it feels 

to choose a favorite out of a 

rippling, exuberant sea

and a quiet, pensive one.

But the sea of my mind,

hiding more questions than answers, 

more doubts than impulse

more tunnels than wide fields,

more me than the world,

that sea is a fire on some days

refusing to quell 

and on other days, 

it is a gentle, cool, insouciant breeze.

And I know not who has the power over it

but I(or Time already has?) am vying for control

to douse the fire.

Bird

 Ho bird! how still you sit,

perched on my window sill

while below a carnival progresses.

For once, I would like to take your place,

not to soar high in the blue

but to nestle up away and aloof,

absorbed in my thoughts, 

without any urgency of prudent action.

For in actions, the grand no more exists

and is turned to ruins of a diminished value,

of which the actual hides in thoughts, out of view.