Once upon a time there was a tree laden with flowers and fruits. The tree was happy and everything was going well and then one day a demon of greed came and everything vanished in moments. Lands become barren, trees no more blossomed and people were cursed by dissatisfaction.



Barren is my all field of heart, so no seed of love I sow

Most of the seeds laid on the land of expectations burnt

And barren are my eyes, so they conceive no more tears

Most of the tears that arise from the heart are buried there

Barren is my house of mind, so no memory dwells in it

All of your memories have gone with your indifference


My fellow farmers walk past me with their cunning eyes

Their minds dance in joy but their faces frown

They console my heart for what I couldnÕt have

But they also know that I just have my barren heart

ThatÕs not even worth a single new seed

They mourn with me until dusk for my dry and barren fields

But inside they are happier for my fields than theirs

But I envy not them for they all sit with me under the sun


Barren is my glowing face, so you see an illusion of mine

And the kids of smiles play on that face are mere puppets

But those puppets of lust and desires play according to life

Alas! But they all play on my face to convey that IÕm a culprit

And couldnÕt tell that you are that saint who deforms them

You are the one who turns those kids who're once innocent

Into the ones now seen and known as sinners and demons

Barren is my glowing face, so I would like it to keep like that



A farmer is not a businessman who sows seeds out of the desire to make money but is a son who doesnÕt want to leave the lap of his land. His land is his mother and the only religion. In return, the land who always loves her son blooms out of compassion and joy for her son. The farmer comes from his land and when the right time comes, the same land takes him back. In the end, he would cling to her bosom so that he can sleep peacefully for the rest of his life.



O, farmer, my dear and poor fellow!


From the dawn till the dusk I see you toil hard

You care not this hot sun or this parched wind

You give your blood with a smile in all seasons

No matter itÕs a scorching day or a chilled night


I see you toiling hard but donÕt know your passion

I have not seen in my all life such a fierce passion

All I have seen passions of money, material, or flesh

These are passions which are renowned in my world

For lack of any one of them makes one poor or weak

But tell me, what kind of drive is it that you have got?


I feel pity but know not why do you bear so much pain

Why do not you leave this tiny land and come with me

I live in a happy city not very far from your old village

My city that is not by any means less than a paradise

There you would be rest in peace and land is also cool

There are huge houses and people with wide smiles

What you make here in years can make there in days

There are name, fame, and prosperity with all comforts

Why do you burn here and refrain to taste my heaven



O, my dear and rich city dweller!


You do not call it toiling but an expression of love

YouÕd call this sun hot but I call it boon to all lives

For not a single life can sustain without this light

This light smile in you and me and each creature

The light is the same, you identify it with darkness

I drop all the curtains of doubts to accept it as it is


And this wind that scorches you, is my companion

Indeed it is hot but the seed which I am sowing will

Be a tree and the same wind will go into your cities

And then itÕll soothe your faces by the name breeze


ThereÕs no big deal about giving blood with a smile

Even if I sacrifice my life on this land that would be

A minuscule of all love that it has bestowed upon me

I am a farmer and this land that youÕd called a piece

Is not just land but my holy mother and only refuge

O, my dear fellow who migrates to the city!


All passions precede love for if the passion is a seed

Then love is just its manifestation as a tree and seed

Has a seed ever told what it wants to be or manifest?

No, but upon sowing carefully it is bound to be a tree

So dear, you too must not focus on your tree but seed

But also remember the seed and the tree are the same

And what kind of love you will get depends on the seed

The paths of seed and tree are parallel and never meet


You feel pity for me and no wonder I feel the same for you

Only the reasons for pity are shallow, profound, or illusive

You seek paradise in a crowd of fake smiles and wealth

While I find the same in the solitude of my land and work

You drew towards the smiles trapped in dissatisfactions

But faces that seem to be sad but soaked with gratitude

People who donÕt know hell or heaven enticed me a lot


I see that you call your city happy while my village old

I am here at peace and happy all the time with my hut

Just know that happiness is a child of self-satisfaction

And in the in light of happiness heat and cold dissolves

When happiness meets acceptance, child of wisdom born

So my dear fellow, donÕt seek the city of happiness at all

But seek diligently a village of satisfaction and gratitude


No doubt you own big mansions and villas in your city

But you donÕt know what it is like to lay in the shadow

A shadow that cools your mind and nurtures your soul

And what I earn here, you canÕt earn in your city all life

For I donÕt crave for incessant and painful greed of coins

The greed that turns your mind savage and the soul impure

And that dwells in pains which you know as name and fame





A long time ago, heart and love met and they fell in love with each other. One day, heart invited love into his house. Love liked the house and stayed there for a few days. But, it was not long before that love showed no intention to leave the house and heart was aware of the intentions of love. But heart didn't want to be harsh with him because heart is after all a heart. So he made a pact with love. Love would have to leave every that heart which is not pure and also would have to make sure that the heart doesn't know that he has gone. Since then, people who fail in love keep getting hurt for a very long time, even after in the absence of love.


You think my heart is a wanderer but it is not so true

It wanders but also seeks; it is the seeker of true love

It does seek all pure hearts and wherever they flourish

It knows the love dwells only in the city of a pure heart  


You think my heart is the meat of longings and desires

I know you have been accustomed to think in this way

For that, I donÕt blame you because I was also once you

I understand that youÕd also walk someday on my path


You think my heart beats out of your body and beauty

But here too you are not so right but it is partially true

It seeks the beauty which dances in you in the solitude

And the body which is merely an outlet of your emotions





The waves of the ocean never come at a halt so does a dejected heart. Restlessness is their property which makes them alive. These waves have the desire to touch the moon. But when these waves stumble upon a cliff of reality, they end up like millions of broken dreams in the form of droplets. To be shattered into pieces is their destiny. According to some fairies a very long time ago the earth and the moon were in love which remained virgin. But they didn't give up and still in love. Earth still misses the moon and these tidal waves are the proof.



This pain is my path and that is my destination too

This pain I crave for and it is what I've been through

It eats my soul and that's how it nourishes my mind

It's my darkened light and it's what makes me blind


In the dark infinite tunnel of sorrow, I keep going on

It's the suffocation of silence which I have to put on

Neither time passes nor makes me apart from you

The pain is the gap between every pair of moments

That's mercilessly and undoubtedly because of you


Now I walk alone as I used to walk a long time ago

This painÕs cared for me when you left me in one go

People lie and defame this pain when say it hurts

It is love in which one suffers but nobody asserts

ItÕs oneÕs eyes where captivation and deceit occurs


© Haryank Kumar

Bio: Haryank is a poet and freelance writer and lives in New Delhi, India. He has done B.Tech in Biotechnology. He loves to play chess, watch horror movies, and read. He wants to affect the layperson and the elite reader with the same intensity.