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Monday, September 6, 2010

THE ROYAL BLUE….


THE ROYAL BLUE….  

The azure sky was beautiful…
But towards something, as a kid, I was unconsciously dutiful …
Something that made me run all through my lane…
It was the whitish cloud of air, left behind by the plane…
I followed it as long as the sun and baby feet could allow…
I would wave so hard and shout no low…
But never did the pilot wave back…
I felt, must be something I lacked…
I would look at my papa and point finger in the sky…
He got me right and would answer my “why”
He would say, the plane is far too high…
And then giving up, I would take a deep sigh…
As a teenage boy, the passion grew…
What gripped me, was the country’s love
 and the AIR FORCE attire… ‘The royal blue’
I knew for sure, that no dreams stand on shallow thoughts…
Concentrated blood can make nothing better than clots…
What flows with toil will get through…
What emerged from heart has to be brought true…
And since then I was set to be up there…
With patriotism that brings in care…
Controlling the big bird, I saw once…
Like one of my motherland’s responsible sons…
PRESS FORWARD and I bring u back to today…
When me and my big bird are ready to play…
An AIR WAR awaits us…
My Royal Blue hanged in my closet, ready to be worn…
It was 3 am and I was waiting for the dawn…
At sharp 5, I was all dressed…
A single strand of thought flows, nothing messed…
The stars all set on the right shoulder…
I give a fleeting look to my honorary certificates kept in a folder…
A single strand of thought still flows…
Towards my fighter aircraft, the walk is measured and slow…
But an abrupt resistance baffles me…
What is it…?
No, it isn’t a trigger in the body, but a shot in the thought…
Is it a resistance from bravado…?
Or a resistance to kill...
Is it the fear of entering into the coffin or sending someone into it…?
The single strand of thought is no more there…
But somehow i reach the air stair...
Somehow i muster up the courage and take controls...
Explaining thyself that i am not running from my goals..
And hence the revved up engine lifted up the plane...
The opponent’s fighter was radar detected again...
But i did not trigger the missile...
It was a clean shot...
But “i will not kill" took me over in a while... 
I don’t know why but we, I and my fighter trace back the way….
The Royal Blue is back in the hanger, got no role to play…
I sit on the wooden chair…
A tear drops amidst of self glare …
“This rush of insight  has threw me hard..
Does that badges me with ‘traitor’ and not a guard…”
With the study lamp, warming the page, I hold the ink pen again…
To scribble the UNACCOUNTABLE 3 words…
“WHAT WAS IT…?”

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