Amidst Christmas Hymns

On Christmas Eve while I write this

I am no fond of telling that

I have a treaty to avoid luxuries with myself

And I avoid being loved.

There is a prophecy

Which states that

No maiden will survive with me

And I am cursed to let love go.

As you might not show civility to my story as it goes

While there comes sun through the canopy of mango trees

There is also a hurry to be on time

To a home where it appears a maze of responsibilities

And also, covert spirituality happens to be at the place.

I am no fond of telling that

I do not recite fancy lines from the famous scripts

So, I am also not a famous person

And I am not supposed to be rich

And not proud to say, but I’ll also die

Making them happy who web their happiness around me.

I feel shameless enough to say

I am horrified of nightmares

And someday I’ll break into tears

In Dupatta of a merry girl

Only if she manages to survive.

I am no fond of telling all this

But some might would be needing the light to the oasis

And a light house has to be there while there are storms

That I have to pray

Also, to be honest

'have to shed off the load of hiding from myself.

Christmas ahead,

Hymns will be sung,

So will this poet surge in devotion.