It looks so light upon the face,
a simple curve, a painted grace,
yet how it weighs upon the soul,
a quiet burden, taking toll.
The mask of stone—
silent, yet full of secrets,
hard, yet speaking without words,
mere rock, yet shining like a god.
The mask of water—
restless as the mind,
fragile, fleeting…
like a happy moment in life,
like our brief meeting—short, yet eternal.
The mask of sky—
changing every moment,
teaching the truth of change,
showing the meaning of life.
The mask of trees—
old, wise, and rooted,
still in the storm,
giving endlessly, like Karna,
keeping alive the spirit of humanity.
The mask of shelter—
always slipping away,
taking us through dream worlds,
like the moon’s trick,
always making us wait.
The human mask—
false, yet close,
sometimes leaving halfway,
sometimes haunting like a ghost,
sometimes staying like a shadow.
And mine… so many masks—
like Ravana’s countless forms.
Changing them has become a habit,
a shield to hide myself.
Truth is, I feel—
there is no need left
to search for the real mask anymore…
P. S. Billion neurons, human, society & it's rules
Vipul Arwade
21.02.2026
