Abhey Gupta

Author: Abhey Gupta

  • Eyes of Sea

    As she walks to this side,
    trembling my heart with the feel of her deep, sea-like eyes,
    I wonder what I am leading toward next —
    but I just know: my mind will not leave you now.

  • Ms. Unknown

    Like a monsoon in July’s summer,
    I am drenched, feeling it all over me;
    like a moonlit night at the end of a beautiful day,
    I watch it come, and go back to the lost forever.

    But like the short-yet-forever memory of a butterfly,
    I am keeping her safe, here in my heart…

  • Rise and Fall

    Thou — the rise meant for the fall,
    I feel the horizon beneath all that passes by;
    darkness in the shallows of shine,
    yet I wonder, holding an answer of time.

  • Ray in the Midst of Rain

    With the shadow of light,
    and the darkness disappearing into the light of belief;
    in the shadow of the new, old memories take their places —
    and in the memory of a gloomy loss, aren’t we losing the world of today?

  • Another Beautiful Day

    I do believe in coincidences. I do believe in love at first sight. I do believe in destiny — though belief tends to step aside the moment it becomes reality.

    Lost in a crowd of strangers, I was struggling through my daily commute — Noida Sector 64, from AIIMS. Most days were just travel and crowd, like any other. But one day, something happened that I could never have imagined: I looked at her, and I couldn’t stop looking, again and again. The day ended at my stop, and I bade her a silent farewell — certain I would never see her again.

    Today is the 17th of March. I boarded my bus at the usual time, and somewhere after South Ex and before Andrews Ganj, she stepped into the same bus. Her eyes met mine, and I went a little mad. That one hour felt like a moment of ultimate solace — I kept shifting, leaning, half-hiding, just to watch her, and often to catch her watching me too.

    Like the rain of a July summer, I was drenched all over in her presence.
    Like the cold of December, I was held by the charm of her endless depth.
    Like a fleeting, buttery life, she comes into mine, and goes — but always with a little hope.

    I hope I’ll see her again.

  • Time Warp

    Thee — the endless times,
    and the weave of beads through time;
    scarlet in the virgin sky,
    and the stars shooting high above —
    though it is the breeding trap.

  • Clashes of Memories

    Like a ray in the mangrove fields,
    departing from one to another;
    there is a time that lives between two memories —
    a chase toward the one, and a chase away from the other.

  • Come to Go

    The dream sleeps with the dawn,
    and when nostalgia grips the soul at the day’s end,
    when the world rejoices in the pain of being someone in disguise,
    I find myself in the past of time.

    When, at the shelter of love, they grow hate —
    mania and garishness are their intake;
    though surrendering to the darkness all around,
    all alone, I ship my way.

    People come, and go away,
    just like another season of a year;
    with the change, they drift away,
    but I look on, silently, at everything, like every day.

    When they shout at the fool of a day,
    I wonder who is the better one of the day;
    the same interests, so many others —
    but all of it, when I come, only to go away…

  • On the Mirror Side

    A long way of time, but another line just like it,
    dubbing the self so gracefully;
    I quest for myself, on the mirror’s side.

    The opened threads of memories,
    delicate enough to tear apart —
    disillusion is another life,
    with the person living on the mirror side.

    I throw myself into him,
    and lose my reflection in the grey;
    it ends with the start of a new quest:
    who is living on the mirror side?

    Holding it back with a few faint clings,
    I sit on yet another cliff of time;
    I am ready to leave behind, to begin —
    but the person on the mirror side?

  • Trembling a Life

    My eyes stop at the passage of time,
    but all they perceive is a pushing, all around;
    everyone is moving somewhere,
    but nobody knows where, or why.

    I try to deny the lie
    that I am just another part of this life —
    but the thoughts answer back again:
    everyone is trying to deal with the same.

    Holding a tail of fire,
    they fail in their tries to cool the pain;
    they try to live their way —
    but this is not the far-off battle of life.

    I glance at the sky,
    and wonder what the driver of the sky wants;
    dust in every eye, all around,
    yet they shout out the lies of their rightness.

    Everything passes by,
    until only this hazy world remains;
    I stop myself at that point,
    and linger, wondering at this life.