Beckoning

Come out to the world, you won’t regret.
It is not dark here and I will make you a different girl.
In there you have to face rebuffs and scorns;
And it reflects now in your nature.
To love and leave is not your hobby.
Like the tensed strings of a violin
You spend your days and nights
You have no recreations
A touch so light will quiver it and,
Discords erupt in hard feelings.
With that you break the hearts of
Those, who love you and cherish you,
Make me the happiest one in life
Sure, you can do that with strain.

I was in rapture
When you said ‘no rupture between you and me’.
So lovely this morn, when I saw you sail past
Clad in that blue Sari with red lines.
Again I heard your pleasantry;
I know the concern in your breath,
Full of love you’re the one I love.

Can’t you break the clam
Which holds you away from me?
I can’t enter it; sealed and marooned
My soul flutters around it,
Awaiting and awaiting to glide
Away to the blue sky and ride
Among the silvery clouds,
And together we make our haven;
Though others may even scorn us.
Hurry up before the dream vanishes,
Before this moth scorches its wings.

Said you helped me to come out of my loneliness
Yet, when you left me, you pushed me into an abyss.
Said you’ll call me later, but you never did,
And I waited till dawn, and then you never knew.

In a tiny dream...

On the wings of an alluring tiny dream
If I could fly to your presence now!
I could have a glimpse of you
to my heart's content;
I could hear your mellifluous voice;
I could share your grief and soothe you;
I could be with you, leaning on my bosom...

I wanted to cry, holding you close,
I wanted to embolden your sore heart,
With the fluff of my kisses and
The balm of my timeless love.
From the day you left me,
With tears flowing down my cheeks,
I have been carrying my coffin,
Wandering through the wilderness
Of my desolate despondency.

Won’t you come back, to me
My magnificent angel,and hover
Among the clouds of my rueful heart?
Your silver streaks may transform
Me into a dazzling spectrum....

Forsaken!

While I was watching you going away

I felt my world becoming futile,

And empty, and I am made an orphan.

I felt my love is embedded in those flowers

You have discarded after sniffing them;

And there is no one beside me to serve

A little love on a platter, for me to imbibe.

And my conjecture has become true as I imagined!

Bleeding rose...

You standing at the grave of dreams,
In the gloom of the moon light!
Do you reckon the sea of your grief
Will calm down, by shedding a drop of tear?
Even when your inset was bleeding
You were dancing and singing, repressing
Your pain, like the nightingale who sang
While its wings were on fire.

You concealed your woeful sighs
Under the heavenly, enchanting melodies,
And camouflaged your tears in the veil
Of angelic smiles, adorning your lips.
The spectators who relished in the
Delightful performance, you showed,
Were never aware of the anguish
Inundating your doleful heart;
And they could not wipe your tears
With their clapping hands, applauding you.

The image adored and embraced by the heart
Has faded and lost its lustre by
Gnawing prejudices and disinformation…
Obliterating, the sunshine with black clouds
Of despair and obscurity of frustration.

All good things in life...

Do you reminisce the day when we first met in our life?
Do you remember who was the first one, who saw?
Can you keep in mind the day, we spoke first, ever?
And tell me who uttered the first word?
Tell me my beloved, tell me.

Do you remember that day obviously, and
Enjoy the ecstasy, that day gave you?
And can you recollect, the first time I got angry?
And also the reason for that, I lost my temper?
Also the day you were so demure, for the first time?
Remembering that magnificent moment,
Do you still horripilate in its sweetness?
Could you still remember the first gift you received
And who was the donor of that?
Remember the first kiss and the one who gave it?
And the first night we spent under the starry sky?
And all that you whispered into my ears, like a song.
And all the rapture we shared in those lovely moments?

Rains...

In the morning it was raining,
And like a sodden leaf in the wind,
You rushed in settling in my mind.

I just thought of climbing, clutching
The thread of the rain, to your side.
Will you wait for me there, above this
Squelchy rain cloud, looming over us?

You will say it is impossible to climb
Like a rope trick, through the thread of tears;
And you imagine, it is your tears coming
Down as raindrops, from heaven.

And the thunder is your lament,
When you strike your breast with your hands;
Brooding over our emancipated life;
And the lightning occurs when you open
Your eyes to see my quagmire existence!
And your sighs forms into blizzards.

Instead, why don’t you come down as a mega raindrop?
We will together flow and drown in the ocean
Or wriggle and sink in to the earth not to return anymore…

Unknown lover…

Time is an unknown lover, and
Life, his sweet beloved.
Yielding dreams and tears,
Embrace and kiss, adore and hug,
And then discard like an unwanted treasure...
Will make beautiful gardens among the sky
Build a mansion inside that garden,
Will cherish and foster children of love,
And at last drown us in the pyre of grief.
Alas! Such is the amazing kinds of dreams!

It will display unseen heavens and then
Take us for a delightful joy ride
In a chariot of gold through the sky;
With a lullaby will soothe you and lead
You to a slumber quietly with
The most excellent music on earth.
Then land in a forlorn desert and
Abandon you there to die and become rancid.
Alas! Relationships entangles in such a way!

Fragrance…

How great will be the dreams
Of these jasmine flowers?
Which carry so much of
Munificent fragrance in it.
How charming will they be
In the glow of the evening sun,
When the sky unfurls its
Seductive smiles at them?
The dreams of those flowers
Will be smooth and softer
Than the smoothness of
The flower itself.
It will be glossy than the silky
Threads of the moonlight
Dripping from up above .

I share all the secrets in my soul,
With my ever delicate dreams.
That is the perfume of love
Spreading inside my mind,
Without, my awareness.
Does the flower ever
Know of its fragrance!

MAN! What a beautiful…

“’MAN’! What a beautiful word” sang someone;
Like the knell of a bell, wafting through the air,
Sounding, like a death knoll, in its vibration…

Here that man is scattered in the air, like a
Sun-depleted dry leaf wandering everywhere.
Just a dry leaf in the air!.
He turns to break and churn the earth for his bread;
Become a firewood and burn at the end.
Burn like a sandal wood piece on the pyre!
He writes a tragic tale, sitting in the dark corners,
As a dark shadow, in the summer heat
Which spreads, through his sinews,
And exhaust him to weariness.
As a bird shuddering and writhing in pain;
Like a tidal wave carrying grief and sweep him away.

The tear dried eyes search around,
Looking out for a saviour, to rescue him
From this chasm, and put him back on his feet again.
Toiling , starving, foiling, with lost hopes,
Hoping against hopes, waiting for a resurrection
And rescue; to live without miseries.

Hyenas of organized religion set bait for him.
They coax him sweetly, with promises of a heaven,
Free of dismay and despondency, but of happiness.
Now he finds his redeemer- the religion.
Now he finds his saviour- the god man.
Hypocrite, wolf in the attire of sheep.
What more is required for self fulfillment?
Happy he is, now!

So long…

The crescent moon has disappeared into
The pale light, of the Milky Way.
It loomed as an indistinct shadow around.
A tragic lassitude in tears remained in the distance
With a sword, and the tumult of thunder nearby.
The nightingale sang a tune in melancholy.
Like a rose, the memories of past life
Was lying in the lap of the mind.
In a night when the stars were in slumber,
When the midnight koel was humming,
I was standing outside your window
In the hope of seeing, your charming image.
Alone I waited and waited till the early dawn
And in despair, for not even hearing your treads,
I retreated with dismay in the heart.
You have drifted away from me into
A strange and motley domain;
Leaving me in the murk, to grope,
Where no stars shine; no beacon to direct.
I did spread my dreams under your feet,
And you tread on my dreams so harshly.
How many desires we wanted to hatch out?
How many dreams, we aspire will bloom?
Not even one desire could bloom;
Not a spike of grain could we harvest;
When can I hope to see you again
In this world of gloom, you have made for me?

So long…

The crescent moon has disappeared into
The pale light, of the Milky Way.
It loomed as an indistinct shadow around.
A tragic lassitude in tears remained in the distance
With a sword, and the tumult of thunder nearby.
The nightingale sang a tune in melancholy.
Like a rose, the memories of past life
Was lying in the lap of the mind.
In a night when the stars were in slumber,
When the midnight koel was humming,
I was standing outside your window
In the hope of seeing, your charming image.
Alone I waited and waited till the early dawn
And in despair,of not even hearing your treads,
I retreated with dismay in the heart.
You have drifted away from me into
A strange and motley domain;
Leaving me in the murk, to grope,
Where no stars shine; no beacon to direct.
I did spread my dreams under your feet,
And you tread on them so harshly.
How many desires we wanted to hatch out?
How many dreams, we aspire will bloom?
Not even one desire could bloom;
Not a spike of grain could we harvest;
When can I hope to see you again
In this world of gloom, you have made for me?

Love…Erotica.

The quill that wrote the treatise of Erotic Love (Kama sutra)
Of the great sage, has become, the letters of a mystic spell,
In the quiver of the human heart;
And the arrows of Cupid!

Was it perpetrated, to awaken the human soul,
From its blessed meditation and penance practiced?
Or to rectify, his innate instincts, and to spoil its rhythm?
Or to hunt for the beauty of the age, enveloped in illusion?
Or to change the sweet and divine love
In the heart of the human beings, into
Lasciviousness and libido, to make it
Abhorrent, and repulsive?

The sage only meant of honoured
Practices among spouses
At propitious times, days, and seasons.
But as ages progressed, it became
A method for experiments and researches
To test, if those written words are pragmatic.
And Eros vanished long back!

Stone Age!

Every piece of stone had wings,
Long, long ago, in the Stone Age.
Dreams clad in anklets also
Were having their own tiny wings.
Leaves used to fly, like dreams
And the earth was in the prime of youth.

Flowers became fairies in splendour,
And rivers became beloveds;
Butterflies used to love the blossoms
And waves loved the streams.
The paramour worshipped the beloved earth
Who was the flower of the flowers
And the river of the rivers.

There came a day, when the wings of the stones
Were hacked away, by the jealous Creator.
Thus the flowers were forsaken
And the streams grief stricken...
They are, the dreary tears of the stones
In desolation, that flows out through streams,
Striving, to reach the river, at last.
The flowers still keep vigil from dawn to dusk;
For the butterflies to come and embrace them,
And take away the nectar, through the kiss of a lover.

Prisoner…

What is that which makes you a prisoner?
Not the iron shackles on your hands,
Not the ropes which binds you tight,
Not the wooden cage you live in;
But the comforts you discover through gold and wealth,
And with the women and children you possess.
That makes you a prisoner and convict!

They are very smooth chains, yet they bind you
Like the Lilliputian’s on Gulliver.
Is it possible to break these chains?
And escape from the alluring charms of life?
Comforts, repose, desires, lust, greed, avarice,
Jealousy, selfishness, ego, violence and malice.
We play with them in life, in our imagination.
They will sweep us away, in the torrent,
Spreading, in all directions of our life.
We float above the flood, through lives
And generations, through ages.
A prisoner sentenced to life!
We live under the spell of these images.
We hate to accept them as dreams;
But continue sleeping in its comforts.

Damn...

The divine words of god, was heard
Like the chirping of a bird,
“Here is Man”; “He is my beloved son”….
Man sitting in the Garden of Eden
In paradise, said:” Amen! So be it;
Peace unto you, my God.”

But when he plucked the fruit of
That tree of dreams, the voice
Changed and became harsh,
That of God with discord;
The horrid voice uttered,
“Here is man; I have rehabilitated him,
Into the hell; let him be there.”

In there, the man said:
“Amen; Hallowed be Thy name, Thank you, Creator,
So be it; thank you again.”

And, he started carrying the burden
Of his Eternal despair, and despondency
From that moment.
God shuddered and His eyes
Were inundated by tears;
Man is still trying to wipe away
The tears from His cheeks.
To see a happy smile, on His visage…

Sweet promises!

Life is a cart loaded with burdens;
A cart pushed by God and humans together,
With coughs and puffs and great efforts,
Through the rugged streets, of births and deaths.

How many gods, have dilapidated and broken down?
How many prophesies, withered and fallen down?
Heaven was always an old promise, for the afflicted.
From time immemorial, of Krishna and *Pandavas,
Of Christ and Mohammad, the Prophet,
Forbidden fruit is being prolifically sown,
And reaped in multifolds, over centuries
By religions and god men, through their hype.

We are still carrying the burden through the paths,
Paved in advance, by the cruel destiny,
How many of the humans have fallen down dead?
How many hopes, have wilted and shattered?
How many boulevards, we erected of broken dreams?

Socialism and equality are sweet and ploy
Guarantees for us, even now; a cap worn out of shape...


* The battle of Maha Bharatha (Wikipedia)

For you…

When the feather touch of your fingers
Dab my moist cheeks, sitting near me.
My soul always inundate with the nectar you accord.
The lurid radiance you breed in my mind with your love
Immerse me in the timid dreams I own,

The couplet, I write to day comprise the moods and sentiments
Of the soft, selfless, sacred love you have for me.
Let it come out as a song, a prelude, an overture
An aria, a rhythm and the symphony may fill the universe,
With the harmony, of its cadence...

The smile, like buds bursting into flowers,
On your bejeweled lips, are always
Spreading, its fragrance, in my imagination.

If perchance, we could never meet again in our life,
While pursuing the unknown regions of our survival,
I implore you to keep your tears unshed
In the memory of an unfulfilled, incomplete
Idyllic correlation of our love, existed within us.

Through births and rebirths my mind is seeking you,
To make you my eternal soul mate;
Among the droplets sustained in that deep blue sky,
And in the emerald depths of the roaring ocean,
In the dew sodden radiance of the moonlight,
In the miraculous glee of a blooming bud,
My psyche is rifling through, to reach you.
No one can croon a lullaby to the memories
Of life, which squirms in the spirit.

My golden dawn…

No need for another sunrise;
You are my golden dawn.
Another sweet spring returning to the garden
Is in vain, since you are beside me.

I came here just to listen to the rustling of
Your anklet and the symphony it instill.
My life turned in harmony with the music
Emanating from the lute, of your consolations.
You have become the melody of my soul,
And its infinite, eternal flame.

We sat on the shores of our desires;
You stood in your waywardness,
Where the waves swirled and caressed you,
Writing and wiping out, our dreams on the sand
We spent nights with our aspirations
Sleeping on the stones, holding its own dreams,
And they turned our dreams, exciting our longing
Into lascivious yearnings, in the mornings.

The pearls in your anklets are the stars in the heaven;
The Golden Fleece in the sky is the silken cover of your breast.
Your words reflect the smell of the musk,
Your eyes radiates the lustre of a thousand lamps in the dusk
The ineffable delight searching a sculptor, you are
Ethereal and a paradigm of Venus.

Game of the heart…

Playing a game in the squash court,
With rebounding emotions of the heart
As the soft ball, till it bleeds and withers
And the opponent decorating his lips with
A deceptive smile and the gait of a winner,
Walks away and you’re left alone!

The rules were fair, the play a barbarity
Savage words and bitter strokes…
Yet I yielded the whims and fancies of
Outrages vociferations which led to crucification
And vituperations of schizophrenia,
Which I meekly admitted, as if I played a foul game;
As he was my best and unique pal and
I never wanted to lose him forever…

The mind always search in unknown shores and
Far away regions to discern a lost companion,
Missed en-route through your past rebirths..
Every moment the wind writes memoirs on the sand
And wander away, the waves blot it out
The next instant, ruthlessly with a cruel mind.
Calm sometimes, rebellious another time,
Turbulent at times, agitated, and weeping in grief
With suppressed mysteries of desires.
Yet, the fisherman adores its nature
And cling to her bosom, as of his mother.

Every man is an ocean, ever on the lookout in debris
For lost treasures and possessions withered from his heart

Life is a duty…Perform it.

Don Blanding, the vagabond Poet Laureate of Hawaii in his “SOMEHOW’ wrote thus-:

“I have tried for many an hour and a minute
To imagine this world, without me in it.
I cannot think of a new born day
Without me here, somehow, some way.
I don’t imagine the autumn’s flare
Without me –here –alive- aware.
I cannot think of a dawn in spring
Without my heart’s awakening.
These treasured years will come and go
With swifter pace-, but this I know, `
I leave no fear- I have no dread
Of that marked day that lies ahead.
My flesh will turn to ash and clay
But I’ll be here-somehow-someway”

We are born in this world as we are. We did not have any choice on the wherever, wherewith or anything. Neither by accident, nor as a coincidence, but by the will of the Providence only. Remember Shakespeare’s words:”There is a destiny which shapes our ends. “
Agnostics may please excuse! Keep those daggers inside its sheath. No malice meant!

Thus we are here, till the bell tolls for our funeral. In between there are umpteen things we have to perform, fulfill, complete, finish off. As an individual this has to be done solo. We have to make so many adjustments in our life as to our emotions, intentions, relationships, lifestyle, personality, individuality, attitudes and everything concerning us. Then only we could perform, to our contentment.
“The cheerful person will do more in the same time, will do better, will preserve in it longer, than the sad or sullen person. ( Thomas Carlyle)

Look forward at your goal, think always that nothing is for ever, and not even our failures. Be not afraid of petty and destructive criticism. Always keep in mind the desire to attain the reality of our dreams. This world is a stage and we are born as performing artists here. There is a screenplay for everyone, and we cannot deviate from that. Keep our spirits high. Sympathize with our colleagues. Love them true. When the curtain falls, the viewers, the stage and the actors will disappear.
Keep that in mind!

Arise! Awake! And stop not till the play ends.