He was a child.
One tiny hand gripping Amma’s saree tightly
Reluctant to let go, lest he got lost
For though he hid behind her cover,
He took in the sights
Of a land far, far away
Of cities with burning lights
Of people who neither looked or talked like him.
Amidst them, he grew;
He learnt, he flourished;
Finally to let go of her saree.
He became a boy.
For he was a dreamer,
His eyes filled with fantasies
With his youth, that seemed
To blur the lines of reality
Wanting to be the change
That the world wanted him to be.
For when he was told to reach for the skies,
He only had eyes for the stars up above
He believed in destiny, in love;
In finding the goodness of every heart.
And life spun her cobweb;
The rivers of failure swelled up
Walls of trust torn down by betrayal
Promises carried away by the wind
The broken heart trampled upon;
He began to doubt:
For he wondered
In the corners of his mind,
Why the hymns of angels sounded so far away
While the chaos of hell felt so close by.
He is a man.
His face resigned with defeat
For no matter how hard he tried,
He could never seem to set his feet
Spread his wings and fly.
A weary traveller
Of a thousand miles
And yet, miles and miles to go
On the path laid in front of him,
One that he must conquer, alone.
The man stood, facing the mirror.
He saw me, staring right back.
He and I,
Baring the scars
Of the journey tried;
Together, we stood and