Biography of Hardik Vaidya
The geography of my biography is under constant creation and erosion. Geography gives way to geology. Sedimentary rocks of my life on being chiseled reveal fossils, Dinosaurs come alive. Out crops the world of ferns, where no flowers bloomed because none had evolved. Soon jumps life from the oceans to land, it stops crawling starts running, stops running starts walking, learns the power of erection. Learns the power of the gift of the gab. Learns to cultivate opinions. Plant ideas. Grow civilisations. In this whole saga my biography is a small scratch on the reed of papyrus.
Hardik Vaidya's Works:
People with such biography don't get publishers soon. Then the publishers have to wait.
Hardik Vaidya Poems
Dignity of a better lover a poem in Bang...
Akhono muhorito praan Amaar Tor boshonter paagol dibha raatree shomaan, Mor ontorer Aakash, paataal Dujone sourobhito tor gourobe opaar
Saptapadee - Gujarati Poem - English Tra...
Dariyaa ne kinaare nadee samee, Halave halave, vahyaan taa kadee. Taraa, ane maraa pagalaaonee, Aaa saptapadee,
1 2 3 4 New Nursery Rhym...
1 2 3 4 Customers always want more. 1 2 3 4 Customers always make your ulcer sore.
Creativity / Being Original
What is being creative? Nature creates, we pro create. What is being original? The answer is quite simple.
Let's bin the Cliche on Womens Day
It is time to bin an old cliché. Behind every successful man is a woman. In front of every fulfilled man is a woman. It is time to evolve the new cliché.
How much is plenty of fuss. How is such that much is must. How is must perpendicular to lust. How is lust at tangent to trust.
14 February 2013 - Valentines Day
If you choose to be in love, Be shameless Be nude Be rude
Squeaking wheel gets the oil
I have never understood this spoil. I was never raised to ask and soil. To live through fire and ice, were my choices, my signature toil. When I was young, and you are always young,
A Pen's Wish
Let my poem kiss you, Before the Skies seal your lips. Let my poem pour into your eyes, Before the oceans drown in them.
A Poet's Prize
A poet's prize is not in recognition. A poet's prize is not in his poems publication. A poet's prize is not in how long he is remembered after his death. A poet's prize is not his poems earning him his bread.
A poets Cenotaph.
Walking through a cemetery, Chanced to see a tomb stone, Only a head piece, No grave,
Ichha / Khwaahish / wish - Hindi Poem - ...
Khwaahish kaa kyaa jataa hai? Uskaa kyaa thaa, jo use khonaa hai? Is Holi, Tumhaaree hathelee par,
Air hostess and drooling men
Welcome aboard, she smiled. I wish she were a she, Good lord it was he. Like the elusive myna she spoke,
Who said? Ke bollow?
EKano? Kano Bhalo bahsbo Naa toke? Shob kichu Kee tor opore nirbhor? Maanee tuyee ishowrer kolponaa, Ke bollolow tuyee shudhu or premikaa?
What is love?
Does it have mass? Is it a reagent or a catalyst?
Is it a reaction? If so, exothermic or endothermic?
Does love weigh same on moon?
Is it an electrical circuit a neurone firing away? Or misfiring?
Is it a question in the first place?
My heart tells me it's a fools stop.