Miracles!

The thunder has to enter the stage
Only when the lightning displays, its strobe.
The sun can gape out of the horizon only
If the cock allows it by crowing from the roof top...
The rainbow has to give prior permission
To the rain clouds to splatter out.
And the peacock has to allow the sky
To copy its flamboyance to make the rainbow,
Through the pavane it performs, before the clouds.
The birds have to chirp in pleasure
Before the sweet spring season wade in.
The tree will refuse to drop off a fruit
Unless it changes from its raw colour.
How can the rain fall down to the earth
Before the hornbills cry for water, in thirst?
Until the crows get back to its nests for roosting
The sun will not dare to immerse in the sea.

Love hesitates to enter into the heart
When it cannot find a man or woman in this world.
The lullaby sung by mothers only with love
Can oscillate a cradle, for the baby to sleep.
No one can find out the work that God
Does from the beginning to end...

In oblivion

The violin that used to stream out
The horripilations of the heart as
The cascade of serene music,
Has now turned mute, and speechless.
The fingers that fondled without weariness
The deteriorating strings have
Now become strangled and benumbed;
As a flimsy curtain dropped down
At the end of the festivities of spring time
Like flowers that droops down at midnight,
In the final moment of the final day.

My beloved had laid down her head in my lap
And slept, without telling anyone.
In her final all encompassing slumber;
Where even the shadow of slight tremor cannot reach
And in oblivion and obscurity…

Bottled up!

Do you ever see any dreams,
In your meandering life over the oceans
And hills, when your paramour dips in
The sea beneath the sky, under your gaze?
When the wintry nights swoon
With a pot brimming with tears, on the head
Do you still see a paradise in your dream?
When the rainy damp evenings
String together with hues,
The bridal garland of a rainbow, that has to be worn,
Why do you conceal your mute anguish
Inside your spirit, bottled up, without
Letting it known to anyone, who adores you?

Darkness at noon!

Day dreams and milky moonlights;
Meandering brooks and forest shades;
Sylvan hills and golden glades,
Whispering streams and sunny vales;
Billowing beaches and cool coffee bars…
Times were fleeting on swift foot.
Every merry moment has to cease one day...

Far away from the shades of trees,
And chirping voices of fairies around the campus,
Coiled up in the recess of a quiet day;
In solitude, in the company of the sun’s heat.
The monotony carves away the sap of the heart.
The separation creates scorching heat
That of a mid-noon sun, in and around.
Fingers that held fingers have slithered;
Desolate days are like loud moaning in wilderness.
Forlorn, forsaken, abandoned feelings resurrect!
Like the earth’s first love affair...

When was the first desertion?
Who could have made it?
The lover or the loved one?
How many frustrated lovers and for how long
Have out grown the pain?
How many survived?
Frustration and the anguish after
Desertion, is always the other side of the coin.
Both are intoxicating and thrilling;
Both are exhilarating and stupefying.
That is the game of Cupid!

Hopes…

I will worship you standing at a distance
My peerless stunning goddess!
Your smiles look like the superb earth,
Clad in the radiance of the silver moon.
Who can foresee plucking a flower,
Even if it is ravishing on a branch
At our arm’s reach and precinct?

Though it is blossoming in the heart
Bountifully, who can predict if it
Could be possessed and embraced in the bosom?
Even then it is possible to adore it in dreams,
And revere it to the heart’s content, always.

Though the wind may quaver its hand,
Who knows if the blossom will drop down?
Who knows if it could ever quench the thirst
In the mind, though the chalice may be brimming?
Even if it is not imbibed, it is just possible,
It could be always felt and remembered.

Silent Nights...

In the chill of the wintry night
We arrive at the inn for a night, at twilight.
Like dry leaves roving in the wind
We count our small laughter and tears,
Like beads of pearls on the rosary in prayer.
Countenance of love, wake up in anguish
Of the mind, in the surveillance of the past.
And like birds of night, roams in the darkness.
The moon light is hiding in the blue sky.
The sniveling of a nightingale is heard faintly
In the distance, through the silent murk.
The spirit is writhing in pain and will remain
In vigil, through the night.

What is in store for the next day is not known.
The only certainty is, there will be
Again another dawn, and when the day
Becomes weary and no longer wish to continue,
The sun will set, and darkness will
Engulf the fading light like a lover.

So many Mary Magdalenes!

Pardon us, for having done the folly
Of being in this earth as women!
If there is a god, that god will feel guilty
When he identifies how we suffer, with
Our mute desires and passions, with fortitude.
Once we were the springs of passion to the poets;
We were goddesses for lovers who fancied us.
We were cast on their chests as favourite toys,
And were being fondled, as objects of pleasure.
We were laying our heads on their laps; hearing
Their whispers, encharming us with their flatteries.

When we woke up and realized we were hungry
For food, you threw stones at us, and called us prostitutes.
We are Mary Magdalenes seeking Jesus Christ,
To sit at his feet, yearning to wash his feet
With our tears, and anoint him with the fragrant
Spikenard oil, before the crucifixion.
We are the modern Mary Magdalenes……

Wingless…

I am falling to the ground, my wings
Having broken and shattered, on the
Rugged earth of this blue planet, and
With never-ending grief in my heart.
Let me give succor to the wearied spirit in me,
The comfort of the supple cushions of leaves.
The earth and heaven unaware of the woes in
The heart of the humans, always grin.

Another morning arrived with the beaming sun.
The buds of blossoms awoke and opened their eyelids.
The soul is exhausted with raving thirst,
In front of the milky ocean of love
Brimming and fizzing, in its serenity.

Rainbows flower and vanish in the horizon,
And the poor rain clouds hovers in and around waiting.
The pale moon fills its goblet again for another moment
In the heaven, and enter its chamber among the clouds.
On the pyre of yesterday’s flowers dance
Today, the buds of blossoms, happily.
Still the mind is longing for a drop of the milky
Ocean of love, for its parching lips…

Revelry…

We arrived into this theatre of an inn
One night, and together we have started
To play and sing our roles, as assigned.
Now this is the moment real and true!
This is my crystal platter.
Dearest, you pour into this
A few drops of the nectar of your love.
It will inebriate my lips and
It will intoxicate my heart.
Our birth is unknown to us,
And our death also comes without
Fore warning, without our knowledge.
Each end is held by birth and death.
Amidst these ends, is the time for
Merry making, the time for revelry
And roistering without break…

Shadow play...

You are the heroine in the shadow play
On the stage of grief, in the play,being
Enacted in the darkness of the stage.
What makes you adorn a necklace gratuitously,
With pearls of tear drops, from your eyes?
Why do you embellish yourself with ornate
Dresses and knick-knacks?
Why do you put vermillion on your forehead?
Why do you wear a garland made of dreams
On your face, that was hidden in your subconscious?
When the sun and the moon shines their lamps
On the curtain of this beautiful earth,
You remain as a shadow that fades away,
And dazzle, in a stage where there are
No spectators in front of you.

Desperate!

You disappeared somewhere like a lightning
And I wandered all over seeking you as a song.
The garlands I weaved sumptuously with ecstasy
Of your soul have now wilted and scorched.
My Morning Star! Where have you gone,
Shattering my dreams, and paralyzing my life?
You vanished like the silvery moon in the sky.
And I am becoming a cloud to conceal you up
In the warmth of my cosy love for you, and
With a mirthful spirit running after you.
Now I am left alone with its desolate grief,
And you escaped like the morning dew
Into the vast emptiness and I am
Seeking you, becoming a sob and a sigh now!

That was you?

Who lighted an evening lamp in
My reminiscence? Could it have been you?
Is there a blossom that will not wither
By the trampling of vandalic time?
The mind has become a turbulent ocean where
The sensuality of desires has fainted.
We are prone to forget even our reflections;
We are tempted to laugh, even in anguish;
And also, under excruciating pain in our soul.

Today, in my reveries, my eyes shed a drop of tear.
That was a tear of joy and for you alone.
Time has scrawled too many stories and
Many waters flowed under the bridge.
Dusks drooped and withered
To make blossoms, of fresh dawns.
We have forgotten all the flamboyance of those days
And put on masks to cover our nature.
Still a lonely hue comes into the memory.
Was it you who made it come?

Your fragrance…

Just for you I will take a rebirth
And continue together through
Innumerable rebirths, my sweet heart!
Thus I will share my infancy and adolescence
Just for you alone in all my lives.
My heart is a cradle for you to rock,
To slip into a sleep, my darling.
Don’t you reckon my heart beats
As the music of a lullaby, I am singing for you?

The tranquil dawn and the flowers will recite
My dreams, as your passion from now on.
The music emanating from the strings of my heart,
From this moment, will only be for you.
I can now sleep in the serenity of your memory,
Breathing its fragrance from today, my dearest…

Delusions!

If the sun rises in the morning
It will set in the evening.
If a child is born into this world
It will definitely die one day.
If a flower blooms in a plant
It will sure wilt, and wither away.
If anything is filled up,
It will get emptied once.


Love precede hate, and
Tears give way to happiness.
Destiny will laugh at this,
And time will get along endlessly.

A spark of fire can grow into
A wild fire in no time and play havoc;
And the vestige will be the scorched cinder.
Still the firmament and earth will
Remain the same, as though nothing happened.
The ramparts of intellect will always tend to grow.
The heavens have witnessed countless dawns and dusks.
There is only one door that maybe kept shut-
The mind of man; in spite of knocking, will not open.
Nevertheless, it will open once, though was remaining
Closed for so long, at the moment when death enters.
The nature and the earth were, through
Ages, watching the springs and summers
Of this dreary world so long!

Non-plussed!

How come the presence of a person
Makes another one so enamoured?
How come the smile of a person is
Felt so adorable by another one?
How such fondness, diffuse through pores
At the root of every hair follicle
As roaring waves, as flaming fires
Into the inner soul, and make a sea of
Happiness spilling around?

The mind is yearning to drown into
A chill moon-lit pool of loveliness,
And swim around enjoying the ecstasy.
But one depressing thought comes
Into the mind, very often.
That even this sweetness will vanish
One day, yielding place to bitterness.
I am now seeking a chalice of love
That keeps away such acrimony from its content..

Once again a gift…

Could you once again make a couch
For me, with the alluring flowers of dreams,
Where I can dwell in tranquility and comfort?
Could you spread-eagle me on
The branch where your reminiscence
Are laid out, once again?

Colours have faded out in the mind
Shadows are crowding in the haze;
Boundless aspirations of life
Are sighing in grief, and consternation.
I am drowning in the eddies of
A fathomless sea of misery.
Pour me out, the elixir of your smile,
Once again, before we part away.

Emerge as a causeway in the sea of my
Tears for me, to look into in your eyes;
Like faith cropping up as waves
In a walloping, stricken heart.
Gift me a little of the music still lurking in
The point of your amorous eyes
For the last time, once again, before we part..