Hardik Vaidya Poems

I was raised in the tropics,
Chirstmas was in December and a season of frolic.
I remember her, not because I am Christian,
Because pals at school, used to sing carols, and I used to drool.
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I have a tale to tell.
It is real but names I cannot spell.
Because men are born brothers, and we don't kiss and yell.
My buddy was a Muslim, he was a Casanova,
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Shyee din golparker mini bus stand'e
Toke bolte paree nee hoye Jaa Amaar chiro din jonye.
Kano Janeesh?
Banglaar gourob, Robindornather kolorob,
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He met me today morning,
Barked hey buds wassup?
Went in circles, mad as a cats cub,
pounced on my white shirt,
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It is not about Choices,
Everything revolves around voices.
They do thier jobs, they speak decisive,
they are you and utter you to the end of all nuances.
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I am happy more or less.
I am satisfied more or less.
I am good on bed more or less.
I do my work well more or less.
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How naive of you my love, your innocent tribe.
A single letter from your pen and you think I cannot find?
I am stupid, misfit, not good enough to adorn your fingers gleam,
But I sniff out the aroma of your reek,
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It just struck me, in a moment of insanity.
What a joy it was to see through the perplexing mystery.
My grandmom and her grandmom, and moms Et al.
All through time infinity,
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Some relationships are made on earth, on her basalt
I hate relationships given to me by gods gracious drunken halt
I am what I am, he made me, he set me free, then its me, not his call.
What met my eye, was flower which bloomed once in a millennia of all.
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They were young, she was fiddling with her phone,
He reached out close, to help her,
Brushed her young bosom, unwantingly,
I am a man can see,
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