Mishra - The Uncommon Life: poems

The Uncommon Life The Uncommon Life Poems by
Abhishek Mishra BLOOMSBURY INDIA Bloomsbury Publishing India Pvt. Ltd Second Floor, LSC Building No. 4, DDA Complex, Pocket C 6 & 7, Vasant Kunj, New Delhi 110070 BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY PRIME and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published 2019 Copyright Abhishek Mishra, 2019 Abhishek Mishra has asserted his rights under the Indian Copyright Act to be identified as the Author of this work All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior permission in writing from the publishers Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes E-ISBN: 978-93-88271-99-8 2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1 Created by Manipal Digital Systems Bloomsbury Publishing Plc makes every effort to ensure that the papers used in the manufacture of our books are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in well-managed forests.

Our manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters Dedicated to my Parents:
Sharda and Jai Shankar Mishra
who taught me the love of poetry;
and to my wife: Swati, my musePoetry puts the infinite within the finite. Robert Browning CONTENTS First and foremost, Thank God for he gave me this life and a poetic journey that I could call Uncommon Life. I acknowledge the great influence on me by the Masters of poetry who have lived before me, and those alive now. Poetry has enriched my life since I was born, and the biggest credit is due to Masters who have left behind a brilliant tradition in English, Hindi and Urdu poetry. I am most thankful to my parents for they inherited and passed on to me a deep love of poetry. I still remember the poems that my father taught me when I was a kid probably learning to speak. He also introduced me to Urdu poetry for which I am eternally thankful to him.

He is also a true inspiration to me, also in the field of poetry, as in all walks of life, for he kept urging to finalize and print this work. He has almost 14 books to his credit now, including English and Hindi poetry. I hope I will be able to achieve that one day, with his blessings. I wish to thank my wife she is and has been my muse. I am sure the readers will be able to see and feel that through my words and emotions as expressed herein. She is always a rock-solid silent foundation of love and support for me in all that I do.

I am eternally grateful to my family members for all their love, support and care that they so liberally and unconditionally give me. I know I can always count on them. My mother-in-law and father-in-law who is also a publisher, have always been most encouraging. I can never thank enough Paul Vinay Kumar of Bloomsbury who was not only my initial contact point with my publisher, but who also motivated me to share this little secret of mine with the world as initially I was hesitant in publishing poetry for I thought it was personal. He always made it a point to keep me going. In the same breath I would like to thank Rajeev Beri, the Managing Director of Bloomsbury India for all his steady support to this effort.

My deepest gratitude to my editor and to Jyoti Mehrotra for her untiring help and support during the publishing process. My thanks are due to the designer for designing such a beautiful product and the cover page. He has surely done a remarkable job and I owe him a big one. A special note of thanks for both my sons Akshar (fondly Cutu) and Aadvit (Champ) for helping me decide the cover jacket of this poetry book. I love you both more than words can ever say. I am in Paris Dads in Delhi Mas in Lucknow Youre with me.

The pyramid shines People gaze at art sublime Their faces reflective Their spirits joyous. Water sparkles in the sun Birds chirp blithely Trees murmur softly The Seine cools gently. Memories bring yearnings Of friends and family Gods in my soul Alls perfect with the world. 31 July 2002 at 8.45 pm
Gardens at Place de la Jardin du Tuliers, between Palais de Louvre and Place de la Concorde, Paris. Through wild winds and moonless nights, walk alone, walk alone. Through fearful flashes and thunder loud, walk alone, walk alone. In your heart burns a fierce will In your veins flow fire and anguish Embrace them all with deep joy walk ahead, walk alone.

Keep moving, keep rising Every moment, day or night, Every sweep, tedious vistas Walk alone, walk alone, walk alone! 28 September 2001
We must never give up in the face of grave difficulties. We can win only if we are ready to fail. The last man standing wins. Uncaring of professed duty People occupy positions of rule What to do? Changing colour like chameleons People demand our trust How to give? Committing murder of soul and body People beseech our love and patience How to believe? Conspiring and fighting bitterly People promise unity and peace How to judge? All is smoke and mirrors. How bleak the future seems. What to do? But something we must! 4 February
Things are really bad and people responsible have disappointed. This we must change. Fired with imagination You embark on a flight of inspiration To show to your nation Things beyond contemplation.

Convinced of a need Of which you are the seed You aspire, burning with desire To do impossible deeds. You won a grand battle Walked on, despite all the rattle On the road less travelled With only your will at your cradle. The road ahead turns hazy In keeping promises everyone is lazy Only darkness looms ahead, noise and doom All is dull, sad and gloom. You still keep on like crazy Your will now the only force No flowers, no scents, no bloom In your eyes shine stars and moon. The road leads to a town Men in hats, women in gowns All cheering without any frowns Your names writ upon the crown. Long live the glory of the sire Long live the fire of desire! 4 July 2003.

Grantchester Village, Apple Orchard
We need to tread a difficult path for a long time before you make your place, and a day comes when everything changes you and this world. I am fed up of Talk, talk, and only talk. You babble all the time But never move a bone. You never throw a stone To make a hole in the sky. You never cry or sigh For anyone beyond the I. You never sing a note To soothe a heart desolate. You never have sown A seed that will rise.

You never have shown Others how to fly. You never have flown To touch the sky. You only talk, talk, and talk And let your fire slowly die. Walk and you will run Take action and see the fun Dandi to Sabarmati, was a great run Seek in life the magic of action. Know this, you are never alone Stop talking, just walk the talk Start walking and the world shall With you, Walk, walk, and walk! 9 February 2002
Trinity College Lawns, Wren Library, Cambridge. Yesterday is gone. Nothing can be changed So dont sweat it Let it go, dont covet it It belongs to the dead Let historians ponder its landscape.

Walk on ahead, dont regret it. Tomorrow is a beautiful dream Love, opportunities and promises gleam But all in the far-off distance Tomorrow is still an un-flowing stream That only Nostradamus can see. Dont be in a hurry to greet it. Today is all we have The only thing immortal. The magics in the moment Today is the only thing real. Promises, prospects, love and dreams All live in today only.