Hardik Vaidya Poems

In one single word, I have to define.
It is not easy, but to strive is my kind.
To give up, is not in my blood,
To rest on my haunches is not what gives me trust.
...

Where are the people?
Of course you haven't forgotten them,
Certainly they exist,
Dear God not on news papers ink,
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How big is the sea around me,
Says the gold fish swimming around in the glass bowl.
Why is it that I only see me and me every small step alone?
There must be some problem,
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Koun Hai waha Moodha Mujhme?
Chipaa Huwaa kis kendra ke kis tuchha bindu main?
Eesha kaa waha bhadda saa attahaas kartaa,
Poochtaa, Kachotataa,
...

Two Televisions.
My Bedroom Television.
The Living Room Television.
My Parents Bed Room.
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Waiting for my flight.
In a well lit glass cage.
Perhaps the glass is plastic.
Plastic is everywhere.
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The queen is dead.
Long live the Kings.
England alas lost her true grit.
Margaret Thatcher.
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One rupee coin, old, pristine.
A culture forged and immortalised.
Heads the government, people self rule.
Tails the notation, crops and farmers, toils of truth.
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The world rejuvenation park.
It has an entry, it has no exit.
It begins with me, completes in you.
The world bursts through me,
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Swathe of reds, twinkling on the black Tarmac of hope
Red the color of night
Two per tail, a thousand tails,
Tails that don't wag, don't have the eyes of the street dog
...