Fearless Leo Pourparlers

Last Crop   There goes the train, Here comes the rain. Beware of the drain, Medicate your strain. There is your seat, Here is your sheet. Beware of your feet, Cool down your heat. There comes the last stop, Here is your top. Beware of your drop, No more you can hop. Whatever you are farming, is now your last crop. -ADS©

Iti Siddham Kahani khatam! एक आदमी सक्षम है | तुम्हे जिताने के लिए । एक रास्ता ही सही है, तुम्हें राह दिखाने के लिए। एक पुस्तक ही बहुत हैं, तुम्हे पढ़ाने के लिए । एक किनारा ही बहुत हैं, तुम्हें पार कराने के लिए। एक कलम ही सही हैं, तुम्हारे लिखने के लिए। एक पन्ना ही बहुत हैं, तुम्हें दिखाने के लिए। तो करो शुरुआत , फूंको शंखनाद, चलते रहो  रात के पहले या दिन के बाद, ऊंचाई पर पहुंचने के बाद, जब ज़मीन की आए याद, जब शरीर में भर जाए ग़म , जब आंखे हो जाए नम, तो अंत में कहना , " इति सिद्धम कहानी खत्म " -ADS©

Parallel Universe ( Vol.II)  The students are learners, The engineers are inventors. The scientists are thinkers, The gunmen are fighters. The leaders are executors, The executors are administrators. The teachers are educators, The customers are cash payers. The priests offer prayers, The god is the ultimate governor.  education is the future. The system needs to be better, To make us a better worker. -ADS©

Afternoon Rains ( Cold Rains -2) Sequel for Cold Rains   Droplets splashing on my face, Nature flourishing with grace. Droplets washing the backstreet road, Hills weathering off all their load. Droplets rinsing my balcony shades, Clouds spawn as the sun fades. Droplets searching for the stinking gutter, Winds fasten as the flags flutter. Droplets wetting my Verandah, Plants absorb it for their new agenda. Droplets leaving my windows stained, Yesterday Afternoon , as it rained. -ADS©

As Old as a Man gets   The day shines bright, as the moon sets. My window gets some light, as my curtains open. I grasp some views and sight, as the morning bets. The sparrows  & the rooster wake with eyes wide, As well as the buffalo with her stinking hide. I pass through the countryside, In the morning I prefer to walk in spite. Because,  The day shines bright, as the moon sets, Its time to get things right, as old as a man gets. -ADS©

Lane Of Life   In the night dark, Under the candle's spark, Someone is sitting, In a miniature room of his own fitting. In the day bright, Under the sun's light, Someone is working, In a tiring garage huffing and jerking. In the evening rainy, Under the moon light stainy. Someone is sitting at rest , On a cocoon chair and hands on his chest. In the night dark, Beside the nightingale's lark. Someone is sleeping, In a coffin, while others are weeping -ADS©

In The Hills So Far   In the hills so far, On a road of tar, I'm driving my car. On the road of coal and char. In the hills so far, The sun sets and welcomes the stars, The moo shines bright on the roof of highway cars. My car and many others stopped at restaurants and bars. I enjoyed a cup of tea in the bar. Under the moon and the pole star. Thinking about my life so far. Thinking about the scenario of the last spent hour. In the hills so far, On a road of tar. The stars vanished and the sun raised, The roads got trafficked with cars oversized. But, no one was in a hurry or surprised. Because, time has no value when it was priced, In the hills so far, On a road of tar. -ADS©

Winter Returns The winter has returned, Cold winds is what it has earned. The ways of western disturbing is what it has learnt with white snow and mist it stunned. It also got some breezes and fog's fund. The frost it brings with ice.  This temperature freezes all farms of rice. Our heads become the villas for lice. And our homes also shelters mice. This is what is winter's cost price. The morning and evening are covered of fog, Everyone hibernates ,a bear or a frog. Noone can be found on the streets except a stray dog. Let's see till when this winter can last? How much new agents it can cast? There's nothing left it has not  worked. In the wait of this winter, simply a year passed. -ADS ©

The Mail   In the round hills of Aravalli, On the steep bridges on Godavari. The mail train honks silently, In the silent valley it goes on lonely. On the steep slopes of Western Ghats, Across the city roads vacant of cars and carts. On the banks of goddess Narmada, At the wedding of River Ganga and Alaknanda. Swimming through bridges over the sea, Traveling over the plateaus and lea. The mail train honks swift, As the birds of Kutch drift. The mail either loaded with posts, Or passengers having tea and toasts. Haulting at stations once or twice, Creeping through the V-valleys and farms of rice.I -ADS©