My Tricolour is Fading

The dark days begun
Eliminating glorious shine
The nation is now divided
In the mosque and shrine.

Saffron moved away
Fighting with green
Where White in tricolour
Scrounging for peace.

Motto as peace
Religions holds sword
Where Peace is just a WORD
And Religious monks are real rapist

I hate this Nation
Who we call a secular
The human race is biased
Where religion is aiming for Dictator.

My Tricolor is fading
Into its dark.......

~Praful Maheshwari

Could we make a Last call?

Could we make a last call And talk for hours and recall All the moments we decorated with joy And that night where a girl fall for a boy... I know this won't work anymore But what my heart Cries is you I have waited for you soo long Unaware of all expectations that went wrong A last call is all I wish To tell you how were my days When you were with me And to tell you how are my days When you are away I wish to tell you About the barren nights That you garnished with florals And those nights that went Sobbing into the dark rooms which scares me the most I wish to call you back to the world, That we both decorated with joyful moments To the world, where you felt safe from the people And the world, where I was happy.... Since that won't work All my wishes vanished with the last call and the day you told that "This won't go anymore"...... ~Praful Maheshwari

जब राज़ हो दिल में गहरा हर ज़ख्म पे यादों का पहरा जब मंज़िल ने भी मुंह फेरा यारों ने भी आशियाना छोड़ा। जब आसूं भी बह ना पाए नज़रों को भी मिला ने पाए जब लफ़्ज़ों ने भी ज़बान ना हो कम्बख़त इश्क़ भी अब साथ ना हो। बस हंसी भी ख़ामोश रहे हर दिन में रात ढले मन में कुछ बवंडर सा है अपना जो था आज़ पराया सा हैं। -Praful Maheshwari

Where's my freedom?

Where's my freedom? Is it caged or tangled in chains! or it is suppressed between the restrictions that they keep imposing on me. Then they ask me necessity of it; other's said that's their concern, but a concern isn't meant to chop the wings of an eagle, it's about giving a thrust to their flight of heights. They are themselves caged between the chaos of the melodrama of society. They breath for themselves but breeds for the society, they opt the brain, steered by society, and these hands hold the fetters of my freedom binding anxiety. Here's is my freedom down their hands, getting older and older, shattering its age with rusted fetters. But they forgot, every chain will once break, every feather will regrow, every bird will fly anew, to live this freedom, to live this era, to live this life. ~ Praful Maheshwari

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