Love, is hatred…

Without you, everything is nothing,
Earth has no green, nature has no zing,
Rivers come to a standstill and the sea doesn’t sing.
The day is night and the night so long…
Seconds are decades, days forlorn.
Trees are just wood, leaves brown.
The flowers have no fragrance, petals easily crumble.
Birds don’t chirp, animals aren’t loyal,
Children don’t play, humans aren’t humble.

Without you, the wind is vacuum and the air solid.
The sky is out of reach and clouds aren’t personified;
Every drop of rain is acidic;
Every lightening strikes like a stick.
There’s no anticipation when the bells ring,
Be it temple’s, phone’s or door’s.
There’s no help from ounces of beer,
Friends don’t seem to cheer,
There's nothing to be liked on Facebook,
No one else is a better hook.

Without you, music has no melody,
A blockbuster is only a documentary.
Sweets are so sour; there's no tang in the pani puri!
The brain is rudimentary,
Science is illogical, art eerie.
There’s no reasoning, no reverie.
Poetry is mathematics, mathematics poetry.

Without you, jewels are merely stones,
House is not a home.
Medicine seems to be killing, and the poison healing.
God is elusive and the devil all-pervading.
Water smokes and oxygen chokes,
Food makes me skinny, the heart skips a beat.
Lungs just seem to expire; there's no ground under my feet.
Blood boils, veins erupt and the arteries slowly leak.

Without you, beacon misguides, teacher teaches crime,
Brother has no charm, father has no arm,
Mother’s touch is no longer warm.
Without you, I am tattered, buried, bruised and jolted,
I am trapped, caught, caged and agitated.

Without you, I am just not me,
Anonymous, aloof, exposed yet hazy
I am venal, filthy, fictional and ghostly.
No religion is sacred, Humanity is betrayed.
Without you, Love, is hatred…

P.S.: This work is purely fictional.

- Dr. Priteesh S. Chotai
(21st January 2011)

Sand at my feet...

He did not like to disappoint his subconscious. But it was a perfect paradise in disguise. He was fast asleep. The other night, it was at its best. One which every man would yearn for. A dream never seen before.

He would always sit in his bungalow and watch his plantations grow without any watering. Even if they did need some moisture, the clouds used to shiver and shower on his commands, whenever he wanted them to, wherever he wanted them to. The scarecrow would be continuously in motion through the farm to keep the crows at bay. The bullocks would plough the earth on their own. They had to sign the cheques too.

Then there were birds which used to seed the ploughed land, through the extremes of their food pipe. The sheepdog also gathered the wool. The harvest went straight to the kitchen and was not allowed to come out uncooked. Evenings were just great. Canines and felines were made to sing and horses had to do the percussion. Working out was effortless too. He just had to complete 2 push-ups and his muscles seemed all ready for an international competition. His lamp was running out of oil. But it dint bother him much. It would glow even without the oil.

For reading, he just had to flip through the pages of any book. He felt really knowledgeable after doing that. He had completed reading over 50000 books now and he could answer anything he was asked. He was almost a sage. But he never understood why people having different faiths have similar morphology. Why many carry hatred and deceit in them even though they are physically fit. Why people choose not to walk on sand. And why the grass always looks greener on the other side.

He dint have to run behind the chickens. They surrendered and stopped evading whenever he wanted some flesh. They also delivered him boiled and peppered eggs regularly. The grass always looked greener on the other side. He was green with envy when he saw that his neighbour’s farm looked greener. How could his plants grow faster, when he was the one who had worked harder? He ordered the red cow for some mango milk shake. He craved for some drink. He crushed some sugarcane and drew a few glasses of beer from them. The weed rolled itself into a paper. The maid unclogged the chimney.

He asked his mother’s subconscious to surrender to her, and ordered 50 kilograms of sleep for her. He ordered the undertaker to bury all the alarms.

Morning brought the sunshine. His door was being knocked melodiously. It was the cows. They had brought some milk for him. He was really tired of all this now, as he had worked really hard. But he just sat on his chair, watching his friend’s farm grow faster than his. He wanted to put in more effort. The city was calling him. He called up his teacher in college.

“Your journals and assignments are completed by me. I have also written a leave application for you and submitted it to the office. So what if it slipped out of your mind? The college is also offering you a scholarship for your constructive holidaying. It will set a great example for our students. Please accept it for the good.”

“Madam, you are saying this because the grass always looks greener on the other side. Ask me about it. Isn’t it looking greener to you on my side? I want to come back. Moreover, it is very difficult to walk on sand.”

Next day, huge flamingos fled him to his city.

The sound of the alarm was deafening. It always challenged his subconscious.

“Good morning beta!”

“Good morning Mom! Mom, why does the grass always look greener on the other side?”

She took a pause and answered with a grin on her face, as if she had seen everything what he had. “Because somebody wants you to take up the challenge and make yours look greener. Look at your alarm. Doesn’t it always take up the challenge against your subconscious?”

“Mom, where are my crutches?”

The time was sprinting, but he took up the challenge.