Aniruddha Pathak Poems

Never can weapons wound it,
Nor can fire burn it either,
Neither can water wet it,
Nor can the wind wither.|| 2.23 ||
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Time waits, nor heavens,
Nor nature, whatso happens;
For trifles man waits.
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Kept in a golden cage
In royal assemblage,
Too dearly did the king
Love his nightingale's singing,
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People thought he had humour and wit,
And he too fully agreed with it.
But humour lacking sense
Wit turning pale from thence,
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Stranded as if
On an isolate isle
All these long while,
I waited for joy to happen.
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Wind hails a helping hand
To raging, flaring fire in forest,
The same wind kills a candle in haste,
No'ne's weak-and-meek's friend,
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Month to month shines moon with the same hue,
But seldom doth the world that way view,
Calling one the bright phase,
Funny O Fate thine ways,
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Some sees the soul in wistful wonder,
Others so speak of it to ponder,
In wonderment others of it hear,
Even then none know it still. || 2.29 ||
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Beak-in-beak on tree
Locked in love's togetherness,
Love made, on their ways.
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Be it stench of labour's sweat
Or be it sewage for that,
Communal scarce can it get.
Alike following the fates
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