There is nothing I can write,
that has not been written.
So I try to recall with all my might
the memories that are not far hidden.

Talking about books in a bag!
Oh, it’s class 10, here nobody reads.
Not to mention how we used them to brag,
of good content we had sown seeds.

Only thing mattered were the P.E. classes,
boys to right, girls to left and following were the masses.
We played split but mixed,
taps on the back and the 35 minutes ticked.

All tired we came back for lunch,
some ate in groups and some stole and ate.
To pee we went as a bunch.
Don’t wanna pee? Let’s pick a fight mate!

Fights of ours were surreal,
one person was just enough,
but gangs were official to this deal.
You have a gang. Then you are tough!

Last periods were all fun,
the teachers themselves yawned to leave
and I intend here no pun.
Like gentlemen we allowed first the eve.

Bunking was a big thing in our school,
Only gangs could make it possible here,
hide and run was the only tool.
Taking notes was just a thing mere.

Notes? Weren’t they supposed to be xerox,
diagrams were only a silk away to be drawn.
Our relationship was like mobile and an aux!
The check seal had our lives borne.

We didn’t just have bad things,
letters were written for one to tear,
all romantic songs one in love sings,
those days young love was in the air.

We bought compasses for a reason,
one, for making big and small round,
two, carving for which the benches were bound.
For compass summer was the season.

After failed love hacks,
on benches the random lines,
and even after names on backs
of studying there were no signs.

Last day wasn’t usual,
we were confused to where this journey took us
for there were exams and then results,
Some stayed and others left.

It wasn’t small but seemed like it,
just yesterday we were in class and
today it took me 2 years to write,
the last chapter of twelve long years.
It was yesterday that class 10 just began.

– Mohit V

We are people and we are insane.
Then who is sane?

An apple falling from a tree,
name it, say gravity!
That is insanity.
On mankind science is pity!

Love, hate and all feelings you have
keep that in lane.
Or the sanity will claim you naive!
Challenge that and you are insane.

A leaf shed leaves behind no emotion,
season past, the tree was back in commotion.
Many shed and mourning them is vanity.
Nobody will stop by, mourn in your own insanity.

Are you alone?
Sanity is in staying same way.
You can talk to the mirror that bright shone
and there is where your insanity lay.

Dare to not follow rules, that’s our pride,
if caught, try to bribe.
Sanity lies on such a slide.
Pay the penalty, and insanity you describe.

Wake up everyday,
hope you are sane.
the world you know is like a falling tower of clay,
believe that and you are insane.

So make eye contact with the mirror,
Look at yourself and choose what suits you,
sane or insane because
WE ARE PEOPLE AND WE ARE INSANE.

-Mohit V

    
                              PART 1

Today I wanted to talk to her:
Had a letter in hand,
For sure I didn’t have the guts sir.
But I knew that it was just like the sand,
which was toppling from my hand.

How it feels I don’t know;
Didn’t talk to her since my broken toe.
Why this long? Didn’t I ask,
she said there was some task,
Was this one real or another of her mask.

Tried calling her she wouldn’t pick,
Gave reasons of being a bit sick,
You would think shouldn’t he interrogate,
She smiled and said, he wouldn’t pass this gate.
I was in a situation of going check mate.

‘Smile’ I was talking about:
It consists of all that comforts you,
All that calls you and
Tells everyday is new…
I didn’t know what to tell my words were few.

After all this I wake up the day next,
Try again with a new and better zest,
For all I know she said she’d call…
Should I write this to take your poll?
No…this wasn’t for that but for me and her…

                                   PART 2

Today I’ll met her for the first time!
Letter? No, I’ll talk to face.
You would ask, where’s the guts for this crime:
I’ll say that I’ll bear the chase.
I’ll make sure it’s not like the last case.

She asked how did I feel:
for this time I had a broken hand.
Why this care? ‘ I’ll always take your stand!’
Seeing that I did half heal.
This time I had the case seal.

Would pick my calls ever;
Oh, I was used to this never.
I tried to take it slow,
but I feared my zone getting bro.
Didn’t go check mate, this game I played clever.

‘Care’, I was talking about,
it is all that makes you happy,
and a “Gn” gives a good sweet nappy.
Says that everyday is the same bout,
‘I’ll stay’, said that with a great shout.

After all this I wake up everyday,
full of surprises like cold in May.
For I know she’ll call…
Should I write this to take your poll?
No…this wasn’t for that but for me, her and she.

                                 PART 3

That day I regret not talking to her:
Letter? Oh! I needed more.
Guts here had to come on spur;
it wasn’t sand, it was a rock sore,
remembering all that, my heart tore.

I didn’t feel how it should’ve felt then;
for the broken toe her prayers were on,
it did take long, there was a task,
should have asked then like gentlemen,
it was real but the mistrust had already grown.

When it came to me I didn’t pray,
she was very sick.
Was caught up in my own pick;
It is a faulty game of which she was a prey,
I wasn’t ready to lose in love I lay.

Wasn’t just the smile, it was her soul,
it had everything that understood me;
to me she was the extreme pole:
thinking was he,
thought put in by she.

All that happened, I didn’t know,
she did call I wasn’t there,
she left like summer after snow.
On this I’ll take your poll,
it’s either her or she, whoever I shall bow.

-Mohit V

Two corns out of a fist,
met in the swamp of butter;
they spoke and the heat was on…
but it wasn’t long till their connection popped.

They popped and were hit,
the hard hot vessel tried all it’s bit.
It tried to part them away
and beat them against the lid.
Some burnt and some made it,
but they found their way out,
beating the might of it.

Were paid to watch the movies;
but feared to go into different boxes:
Changing boxes…
Oh, that is not allowed here.

Even if together,
the trouble is not over yet:
These deshaped ones still had a fear,
they will part when time comes
and the box will be clear.
Oh they won’t be alone,
wait for what is to come.

They are taken with a drink,
Often hard to handle,
They come in combos and plans,
They don’t get to plan for it.

When all three come together:
There will be a pop and a swirl
and the butter would be the only thing missing.
Oh their journey was short,
Usually insignificant to eyes…
But look at yourself
and then look at the popcorn. Then ENJOY!

-Mohit V

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton