My "special" friend

This piece of work is dedicated to all my children with special needs, at school. They all are uniquely blessed and gifted by god and just impossible for we "normals" to comprehend them entirely and sheerly.   💝

We hear we smile.
We have our own style.
Looking me from a distance
Might confuse you, my agile.
My age and my act
might not look very congruous.
But holding on your thoughts
and sitting with me for a while.
Will open your mind.
If you hear my heart,
which is covert and shy.
You might make discoveries. (about my existing personality)
New mindset you will invent. (meeting me will change your thought process)
I might sound quite queer.
I am bit different .

Don't drag me so hard
into your world of normalcy.
Normal is majority
and you have won the race. (as majority always wins)
I was never in competition
as I work at my own pace.

My needs might be quirky.
My actions may look murky.
The expressions are undefined .
You leave your hopeless,
humdrum and hapless world,
so to enter mine.
Where language might be locked
but the thoughts can trespass.
Where oceans can be dried.
Blue sky can grow green grass.

Welcome to my world
My world of "special needs".
Meet my soul my friend.
A friend free of guile.
A friend free of greed.

Aarushi Agrawal ( honey)

Weeping me

Weeping Me

( When sometimes, I strongly feel that I have changed so much and I have a keen urge to go back to my childhood and be the original me, once again)

I heard very close. 

Someone sobbing and wailing.

It was close to my heart.

The knocking was too hard.

An entry someone trying.

Bemused and surprised.
 I opened my heart door.

Looking at this someone.

A heart beat I skipped.

The heat I couldn't take 

and my heart was tethered
then brutally ripped.

I was a murderer.

I have killed this someone.

My heart and brain agreed,

she is known, not a stranger.

My "childhood" was in tears.

Her head was hanging down 

And hands were clasped.

She looked so hurt.
She looked so frown.

I forwarded my hands,
in console but I gasped.

To my fear I made,

a futile repent.

Deads are never back.

It was already too late.

She cried on her end.

I cried on my end.

With sudden shocks  

And few jerks were made.

Someone entered the scene.

Grinning and smirking.

She couldn't stop to preen (herself).

She slammed the door of my heart

And bolted it like forever.
This new resident of my heart.

She loathed and loved me never.

I call her "mama maturity".
She claims to be always right.

My "childhood" was exiled. 

She lost a decade long fight.
I know she won't comeback
And dwell in my heart once more.
Wishful and hopeful
to sneak a peek of my childhood.
Sometimes, I open my (heart)door . 

Aarushi Agrawal

Pay it forward

Is purpose of life so self willed

 a race for money

and ending with endless guilt.

Guilt of not doing what my heart said to me 

But busied myself living others dreams.

And soon a thought clouded my mind

Ocean of my conscience 

Holding 2 raindrops

pay it forward or pay it back.

Choice was mine 

I Made my rainbow of happiness with 

Pay it forward drop

And deserted to dry

The Pay it back raindrop.

Two firefly like eyes gleaming and sparkling

Seeing through the doors of thunders.

Looking for a streak of hope to enter

And wishing hard for the weather to change,

For night turning to day.

Two eyes so tired, alone and helpless.

Walked in me with my rainbow of happiness

To make their day, gay and shiny like sun 

Paying it forward for I have 

For all I can do in my might.

I might can't change the weather for them but can open the door of thunder for some time.

Let the frightened firefly set free for a while

To the world of hopes and desires even if it is for few hours. 

Pay it forward with your skills and your smiles

It may be small but can make big difference in someone's life.

I'm a little bird

It is a breathless read. It is not "survival of the fittest " but "survival of the fighter". If not fit to take the inadvertent pleasures of life along with the challenges as their byproducts then fight to get fit in or else flow freely in your own nest (comfort zone).

I'm a little bird 

desperate to fly

Fly high no wait

No wait to grow

Grow my wings

Wings I want to fling

Fling cause worry

Worry son of hurry

Hurry to fly far

Far from here

Here to don't know where

Where is my sky?

Sky waiting for me

Me living in the nest

The nest I want to leave

Leave and go to sky

Sky waiting for me

Me fly with unready wings

Wings take me to sky

Sky full of wind

Wind beats me hard

Hard to flap wings

Wings getting tired

Tired and fall down

Down to my nest

Nest to take some rest

No rest in the wind

Wind is so high

High is my wish

Wish is so small

Small like me

Me in love with sky

Sky with open arms

Arms are calling me

Me so scared of wind

Wind will not change 

Change what I need

Need to learn fly

Fly in the wind

Wind pushing me high

High in the sky 

I'm a little bird 

desperate to fly.

                               - Aarushi Agrawal 

"Change yourself when surroundings can't be changed ." 

"Agree or/and set yourself free- choice is yours"

My life

First you criticize

And I change

When I change 

You criticize again

You gripe and blame

Of me not being the same.

Not the whole

A part of me 

You want to change.

I am what I am

When people are around.

You seem so strange 

U let me out of bound.

When u and me 

Are in the house alone.

Change of heart

Replaced by a stone.

We share a parasitic relationship here.

Parasite you and I m your host

You kill me everyday

Nags and comments you croak

But it is not a crime.

It is part of life.

Crime is to compromise 

my thoughts and my beliefs. 

I adapt to survive changes 

But my outlook is my relief.

Song of soul

Give wings to your imagination and then take a ride, of my this piece of work. 

Just imagine our souls(passengers) with their bodies(baggage) are on a life(airplane) journey. The karmas(vests) and the spiritual knowledge of karmas( manual for vest operation and emergency  landing) are the inevitable but innately ignored parts of the journey. The poem is composed by the soul and recited by the soul and not by the body. 

My body is a baggage of 

dreadful desires and emotions.

endless expectations, 

and preconceived notions.

(The soul is ruminating of its body as what it has been filled up with, over the time. The soul is taking the life journey with an emotionally brimmed body)

On the airplane of life 

my bag should weigh less.

So, to relish the journey (un)planned.

and freedom from stress.

( the soul has a realization that it should keep minimal desires and expectations in its body, in order to enjoy the life journey and keeping the worries at bay )

Share the limits of space with others 

My bag is on the plane.

Weather inflicting its rage in thunder

All bags are in pensive pain.

( In life, we all are very intrusive and we let and we do sneak in the personal space of others. Happenings in our lives may effect everyone related to us or who is a part of our journey. They being so close to share the moments of bright and plight with us.)

The plane has turned into an oscillating pendulum.

The overhead lights are flickering fireflies.

A Fine art exhibition is a flea market instead. 

Hear baggage claimer's hue and cry.

(At the time of quandary, when our life is out of our hands and it's chaotic inside out then no matter how suave, sophisticated and refined life you have been living, you will start making noises, you will fight, struggle with everyone and your whole life may seem to be chaotic and  barbaric like a flea market.)

Seat number, age and gender are trivial.

Menial are caste and creed.

No matter how rich, no matter how poor

Death is not unfair, sure-fire way to freed.

(Irrespective of any parameter in this world, the death does the work. and nothing else but above all the death is inescapable and no matter how big is your bank balance, you can't lure the death and buy some more time from it)

Orphaned vests and fostered manuals 

are only way to help you save.

Leave your baggage, leave your belongings.

Snag a vest, for manual it's too late. 

(The most ignored is the most inevitable part of our journey. Our karmas and the spiritual knowledge to make the right use of karmas is must, so to help us during our predicament. )

Not giving a second thought.

In order to survive 

I pounced on my vestigial vest.

Me lamentably naive.

(But when it's too late in life, you just start reckoning your karmas and in order to work on your reincarnation or on the hell/heaven belief, you behave like a newbie who has no previous knowledge and in haste and hurry nothing works as it is too late already. You look for help around and when see everyone busy with their vests or karmas, it makes you more nervous.)

Journey begins with compulsion 

But end is a choice for all. 

Some intrigues the inevitable(vest and manual)

Piddly love (baggage), some may fall.

( the human life is an imposition . The kind of person we are, the family we born in, our country, gender, status and a lot of parameters are not in our control and we r born with these mandatory tags. But our ending is entirely in our hands. Either we start working on our spiritual knowledge so to make our next birth better and question ourselves and search answers for the real purpose of this life or else busy ourselves falling in love with our bodies,  be a party animal and keep ourselves engrossed in our so called "fast moving interesting lives".  Choice is ours )

The news flashed fast, around the world of sympathies.

A plane has crashed and then years have passed.

Vanished from memories, now missing from talks.

NOTHING in this world stay forever and nothing do last.

( every human, every life journey has an end. People cross our paths. We make memories together but nothing lasts forever. People move on and memories start to fade away. What remains is our soul , looking for salvation, through bodies. If they begin the journey with "right" spiritual knowledge of karmas,  they will reincarnate and get another body or opportunity to salve, just like the knowledge of vests can help us at the time of plight in the flight or else nothing can save our poor souls.) 

Life is a ............

Life is a butcher shop 

where animals of 

ego and proud.

They stink, they cry 

so blatant so loud. 

They need to be tamed or 

must be maimed,

for the sake of 

peace, in human relations.

You feast on your beast 

a call for a treat.

Calf of snob and smug's foul

 You slaughter them all 

to run your shop (life)

Life is a classroom 

where experiences are, the

teachers who are classified, as 

easy and hard, 

The later will stand you,

stoic and strong 

but easy teacher preach that,

life is not so wrong.

Every day every moment,

is a question in a test,

where teachings of the teacher 

will surface your best.

Life is a beauty salon,

where makeovers 

cleanse and change,

 your thoughts and perspective,

may vary, can be strange.

Temporary makeups, of 

adjustments and compromises, 

are must to survive, 

occasional surprises.

The blemishes of 

fault finding, are 

rouged of foundation, of 

empathy and trust.

No matter how beautiful, 

you inside out are, but 

visit and grooming of,

every soul is must. 

Life is a vacation home 

where nothing is that,

you call your own.

You enjoy 

nook and corner, of 

arrangement of stones,

but you are on vacations, 

no friends all alone.

It brims you with pleasure but 

sinks you with responsibility. 

We rented this home (body or life).

This god's unique creation.

Purge your rental 

both inside and out, (soul & body)

before leaving and 

looking for, 

next vacation home.

                       Aarushi Agrawal "honey"