Aakriti

Here’s to my bestest friend. Aakriti Jain. J

Piyush

Here’s an ambigram dedicated to my dear friend Piyush. J

-          Vishal Gupta

The Warrior

Churned, hurt, wounded, crushed

he returned from the day’s battles

To take some rest and heal himself

before he’s called for the next day’s battle.

He lies on his back and watches the ceiling

his mind traumatised

too well aware of his being as a soldier

he has no thoughts nor feelings.

The black sky covers his coarse body

blackened by stains of mud and blood

The silent night makes no effort

to disrupt the blankness in his mind.

He feels a pain in his arm

and finds a trivial slice of metal

penetrated deep down into his flesh

Like a young ave hiding deep inside its nest

in absence of its parents

scared to look out to the harsh world

scared to open its eyes, and find its parents not there.

The warrior appreciates his reward for a moment

Then keeps his hand back down

“The pain will go soon,” he thinks

It pains him more to think it will.

He looks at his palm and closes his eyes

A single drop of tear leaves him

trickling down his face it gives him a shiver

Like trickled down once a finger from that palm

He wouldn’t have shed that precious drop had he been unaware

that what made him loose himself was fired by someone his own

A brutal error by a beloved comrade

To compensate his loss he was bequeathed

tears and empathy and pity and kindness

Each tear charred his soul

like acid mercilessly penetrating into the depths of metal

eating it as it proceeds

till the strong metal is burned and crushed

into a useless piece of scrap

of no value, of no use

till it is burned and moulded and cast again.

He doesn’t realise when the pain leaves his psyche

and a void again takes over

and again he hears the silence

before he’s called for the next day’s battle.

-          Vishal Gupta

June 22, 2010