Wednesday, October 19, 2016


Consangunity has no value
They remain as drawings  on the water.
A stream that drifts between birth and death;
A line on the water in the river of life.

In the heavenly systems that orbits in the universe
Drawing near and  drift away shuddering in its course.
In an isle of earth and inside an inn there
I am just a guest; just a strange guest only.
I can hear on one side mirthful laughter;
On the other whimpering in grief and cries.
Who is the custodian of this inn?
God or Satan? Or God and God only...



History is an umbilical cord
That entwine around the neck like a noose
While we sleep and dream.
The tapping sound of the boots
Running through the chest
Are the sounds of hoofs on cobble stones.
Somebody have blackened the truths
And somebody have white washed the lies
And together they formed as wrinkles 
On the forehead and formed a blackhole 
No light can penetrate and expose.
When the Orion blinks its eye for a jiffy
The footsteps falters and the earth underneath
Is washed away making a fierce sound.
The head stones in the cemetary
Only reveals the date of births and deaths.
But never account the events that happened
In the past, nor the changes in political maps
Nor the boundaries of kingdoms or empires.
History is an umbilical cord
That entwine around the neck like a noose
While we sleep and dream.
When the noose tightens and we suffocate
For air to breath , may be the present
Will beckon us to join and find ourselves amidst it.
Till then will wait and see......

Wednesday, August 31, 2016


Desires. Like A tailor bird, are weaving out a tiny nest, 
With a thousand dreams. 
 Expectations silently lighted the lamps  
Umpteen times, frequently had to put it out, 
 Again and again, in frustration. 
 Saddening realities have entered from remote 
 Unknown areas of disillusionment. 
 I was erecting a splendid edifice 
 On the land of my dreams and imaginations, 
 Even while time clasps shackles on my wrist. 
 My very small aspirations conserved 
 In the garret of my mind, still look forward to  
Sing lullabies in elation, in its realization.  
Life is like a paper boat in the lake of tears, 
Drifting rudderless, in the midst of the vast  
Expanse of water, and rocking in the waves;
 Far away shores remain unseen, in the stark 
 Darkness of the vagabond night. 
 No one to share the anguish in the mind;  
No one to help, to set down my burden. 
 Somewhere in the far corner of the horizon, 
 A few stars are staring at me, through the veil 
 Of darkness, with wrath, appearing like sentinels, 
 And the streak of lightning piercing the darkness, 
 Cannot placate the condemnation of the night. 
 I am still awaiting to hear the song of the Sea birds, 
 as I am befuddled with my directions; 
 Seeking the shores, struggling in the arms of the waves. 
 The flame of my hankering is swaying 
in the Eddies and vortices with life’s turbulence. 
 The earthen pots of scorching pain are seeking 
 Water to quench its burning thirst. 
 In the chilling breeze around the corner, 
The sun painted the eastern sky with crimson 
 Surrealistic images, and it looks like the shore is nearby now..


Friday, August 19, 2016


The amorous tinkle of your anklet
I heard, and the sweet treads in
the corridor sounded, when you came in;
Like the golden rays of the evening sun
Coming filtered through the colored
Panes, of my window.
As a soft overture, when someone touches
The strings of my tense heart,
Like the raindrops settling on the leaves,
Squirting nectar on my life
I was enthralled to hear the soft footsteps.
When you paddled into my chamber
Like the bee, circling around the floret,
Shrouded by minuscule drops
Of the morning snow,
As the footsteps approached me
I found you as another magnificent sun,
Trying to drown in the ocean, of my silent love.
The golden hue of the sun covered you
In silhouette;
The buds of my ecstasy bloomed;
In those moments, I became one in you
And you became one in me.
The earth and the sky stared to find out
The lover, of this gorgeous bride and asked.
“Whoever is the bridegroom of this nymph? ”

The breeze whispered into the ears of the
Flower. ”What will happen to night? ”
And a few stars peeped out from behind the curtain,
In coy meekness, and blinked gleefully.



There is no dispensation for love,
To a maiden who is entitled only
For a mound of earth in the end as her grave
For her eternal rest, and no rights allowed
To have even dreams, while alone.

My heart has turned into a book
Already eaten by white ants,
And could become dust any time.
When I say farewell, I have only
One memento left in me.
To give you, when I bid farewell at last;
A mind, dried up of dreams, and,
A soul made destitute.

There are thousands of meaningful meanings
In the words, we have kept unsaid.
I am carrying the stinking rags of dreams
Which we shared unknowingly through withered
Lonely desolate nights and silent moments;
Carrying it like grey and pale dreams
What is left undone is the slaughter of those
Dreams and I have to undertake that
And lay a wreath on it.
And we both part our ways in two directions
Without saying any more words!


Friday, August 12, 2016


Heavy rains… It’s raining helter- skelter!
Unable to see beyond the courtyard;
Hardly hear anything other than the clatter..
Like pelting, on a tin roof.
This is the monsoon of torrential rain of pain;
Of sodden wicks in the lamp of hopes,
With traumatized desires: desires fondled
In the soul for long, through life’s tempestuous
Paths, rugged, and hazardous.
Heavy rains of tears of desolation,
From the long summer of desertion,
Evaporated and condensed, now falling down
As heavy rain, seeking me..
A long lost lover!

Soft fingers of reminiscence are clasping,
And flouncing, all over my body.
In the haste, the fingers become unsteady
And detach with a spasm of anguish in the mind.
I sense someone, whispering into my ears,
Confiding adorable words of affection,
Discreetly stimulating the heart.
A familiar emotion other than grief!

In the vales of the darkened gloom
Of despondency, shadows creep around.
On the doorsteps of reflections
Some foot treads are overheard.
Outside the window a dream flashed
With a lightning, out of the blue…
This rain will die down, and the morning dew
Will sparkle, on the grass blades again.


Tuesday, August 9, 2016



She touched him like a whisper....
Their eyes met like a touch; softest of its kind,
Like a feather; as a spark of electricity.
Love is not love till the moment, it is given,
The inception of that eternal emotion
Could stem from a mere look only.
That look develops and spread into
Innumerable spheres of love and affection.
Mutually attracted, is the first stage.
Body language rapidly shows changes, in
Body temperature, heart beats, respiration;
Parched throat, and sweating hands.
Who is in control of these reactions?

Emotional attachments have two dimensions:
Attraction based on body, image, beauty,
Complexion, intelligence, and tastes;
Then albeit all these, based on beliefs, interests,
And occupation; still the depth increases
On basis of confidence on the beloved,
Sharing of thoughts, happiness and woes,
Dreams, aspirations, and too personal secrets.

Nevertheless man or woman, they speak
About everything hidden and unhidden
Without reservation; without hesitation.
You will adore the relationship always
And adhere to each other.
It opens the vistas of beauty, interest,
And pellucid relations.
If such a degree of adherence, cannot be reached
It becomes stale and ephemeral.
It turns to a mechanical exercise.
The substance of relationship becomes romance,
Without which the love life, cannot blossom.
In it, you recognize the truth of love.
It helps to make a better lover and partner.

Romance flow out of the heart and
Preserve the loyalty and fidelity
Towards your partner in love.
The ardent desire, the zeal, the obsession,
In suppressible passion,
You are prepared to do whatever you can
For the one whom you love.
As your mind and body surrenders
And you gift your whole being for the other,
The populace accepts it as LOVE...

Wednesday, March 23, 2016


                         WHEN THE BELL TOLLS

When the bell  tolls for my death
And the messenger of death is awaiting
Outside my room for an entry,
Do sit beside me, my beloved, for a little while
In the last moments of my life.

I could fondle you and sooth my fingers
That were  handling the embers of life.
The last breath I draw into my lungs
Could then carry the molecules
Of your fragrance into my .grave 
And my eyes that will never see anymore
Could drown in your fond continence
My beloved, and store it in my eye lids.
And to to seal the ear with the enchanting
Peel of your voice eternally.
And to reminisce those evergreen
Moments we had together inside
The brain stacked with memories
And events that can never faint out.
To close the lips that were once bruised 
By your kisses, now with the chanting
Of your sweet name  on it.
My love, to chill my feet with the memory
Of the paths  that brought me to you.
These will be sufficient to come out from 
The earth that covers my grave as
A tender grass shoot, to sprout resurrected..... 

Friday, January 22, 2016


Some day in a month of December

Like a tear drop in the sodden mind,

You walked into my life just like that,

As a translucent memory

With a handful of the whitest blossoms

Permeating a bewitching fragrance....

You leaned over me with your shadow

Clinging to shoulders with your charms

Then with the  dreams in your eyes

Listened to all my ramblings  erupting out

Of me as fantasies of your imaginations. 

We can now share the spasms  in the heart

Of a  disintegrating fly scorched by fire.

Your smiles showered as rains in the sea of 

My  fizzing emotions and then I turned  into 

Be the music enveloping  your  cantillations.

I will in another moment, dawn like the morning sun

In the blossoming  horizon  of your spirit.