The Bird of Winter

The Bird of Winter

A young robin in the city

looking for a place to set a house

He collected twigs and sticks and stones

And found the warmest branch that could exist

And out came a brand new house

But the winds of winter weren’t far behind

for the autumn was followed by the snow

and in the night came the rains

Not all creatures can live through a storm

But the strongest are not those with might and power

It stayed in a ditch till the snow had melted

And watched the branch of its very home devastated

No living soul would have the strength again

But this was no ordinary bird

It flew from meadows to rivers and mountains to the sea

It had a dream of what it’s nest could be

With sticks and stones and pebbles and leaves

It built a nest again

The most marvelous one could be

But a nest was not something he wanted anymore

For now the robins wings had a taste of flight

Winds and rain, sun and snow

His tiny wings now seeked the horizon

For now, he was a Bird of Winter

Probably the most random thing I have written in under two minutes, with thought added to it.

The guy in cubicle 108

The guy in cubicle 108
believed not in destiny, nor in fate
Till one day he walked towards the office and saw in the rain and the mist and the haze
Something he had never seen before, her beautiful face
Even through the mist he could see
As she ran for shelter under the flowering jasmine tree
She had clear blue eyes
And he was mesmerized

“I am new here, can you help me “ she asked
This wasn't an opportunity he could have passed
This isn't just a coincidence but destiny unrolling, he thought
Fear that something may go wrong again he fought & fought & fought

Days and days passed by
Strangers turned friends and to make way old friendships had to die
It is time to take the next step he made his mind
He plucked the best flowers on the same tree he could find

“Will you be mine,
 Today, tomorrow and till the end of time “
With tears in his eyes and a smile on his face he said
But his joy turned to ashes as her eyes turned wet and red
And she said “I love another, but this is not the end,
For you were, are and always will be my best friend”

Hours and days turned to months and years
As he lived through all his fears
He remained a loyal friend,
And would be so, until the end
It was his tears he could not tame
And he always found God, fate and destiny to blame

It was her face he never could forget
He could never have her, his one and only regret
The jasmine tree continued to wither and shed
And he never could find peace, not even in his feather-bed.

One day all of a sudden, he decided not to cry
Meanwhile the winds changed, and the jasmine tree had to die
The guy in cubicle 108
Once again believed not in destiny, nor in fate

-Alankrit Kharbanda

The Fallen

The Fallen

I wrote The Fallen in my college's Library. It is attempted as an inspiration to anyone who feels that their golden days are behind them. There is always a second chance. Always.

The night gets darker

The forces get stronger

No matter whether big or small

Everything that rises has to fall

Whenever I see some despair

I tell myself, Life isn’t fair

There always has to be a way out

No one says, its easy to get around

The trumpet has been struck

The battle has begun

All the forces come together

To spin a web that cant be outrun

But as the light takes over the night

It is not he who has might

But he who shall struggle and fight

The one whose path be right

For there is no glory without no pain

Time after time we know

That the Fallen shall Rise again..

-Alankrit Kharbanda