To you, I am a puzzle.
A mathematical problem
that takes too much paper
and ink to be solved.
Because, to you, it looks so.
So you find me better, unsolved.
It is easy to open books
of subjects with no problems to solve.
So I stay unsolved. I stay unresolved.
But when again the mathematics of me, as you see.
Finds you in settlement with the easy things.
Unlike me. So you see.
Again I am a complex problem.
For you, needing too much paper
and ink to be solved.
You move on.
I stay unsolved. I stay unresolved.
Little you know. I am literature.
Just a good read and all is solved.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

P.V. Sindhu (Acrostic)


Point by point, She scored our hearts away.
Victorious, regardless of what the world says.
She poured in, what is more than all the gold.
In every moment of the hour, it was her heart, her soul.
Not even when it was all over, she did fall.
Dazzling like a star, she lifted the girl’s face like a true power.
Honour and pride she brings to her home.
Until the next hour, we are sure, with this, there will be gold.

– Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

Image Source: Google

Not yours

Forced calmness you have put over your face.
There is the rattle over there
plundering the people’s gaze.
Hey friend! You are an imagination.
Silence is here. In her little palms cared.
To the days where memories hold on.
My anger and my knives are drawn.
By the breeze of your distant country.
The rage which is now cold, stares.
Beyond the  oblivion, it stays.
Wash the faces and the embodied selves.
It will drain, but such cleansing is of no help.
You are poor. Poor out of the inhumane.
Go tell the merry makers where we store our sins.
Of the calmness forced upon them.
They will think and for you,
unknowingly they will bring.
What is not yours and I go out of words.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

Becoming Dice

Silently you stepped over
to purchase the other side
of the line that had us separated
from all we would rather be.

The game had you roll like a dice.
Unaware of the numbers we were to face.
And the chances slipped from spaces
between our fingers where we held the same.
Belonging to us.
Not you. Not me. It was  us.

The key to the lock we have,
now rests on the ocean bed.
“Two is the number now, one is not.”
The Dice tells.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi.
(The Stories beneath the eyes)


Exclude my Creators
and their creations.
There remains none, but her.
In her essence now mine is.
The Silence she brings
Is more than a crowd
where the heart is always alone.
Raise no misunderstandings.
But the heart, in her.
He is swell.
She is sincere.
She confronts me with the true
and my quiddity too.

-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)