In this world of ours, ' s perfection is not too possible. We are made fidgety over something or the other. Morning hours to noon and evening and night hours hold us in their strong embrace. We are restless, more or less, and pressurized to spend ...

In this world of ours, ' s perfection is not too possible. We are made fidgety over something or the other. Morning hours to noon and evening and night hours hold us in their strong embrace. We are restless, more or less, and pressurized to spend time gamely engaged in some task or the other. All of us are fascinated by the desire to be perfect. We strive to occupy the space of this ambit, doing what we can for pleasing ourselves. Most of us gain some objective or the other. The peak hours of a city's hub- ub is exciting for both man and child. The message seems to be that we do care for each other. It is some comfort that each practices some trade or the other in order to excel. It is a competition where we dare each other. Having proven our capacity, we smack our lips in contentment. Life is just barging off the door, which opens and shuts bringing fortune and alas!, misery. These poems are a struggle to extricate oneself from audacity and boredom.