Forever amber....

Compressing all thoughts and emotions
Into a monosyllable;
And in a glance to say farewell;
Let us bid farewell to each other now.
The countenance has reddened,
Tears welled up and brimming over,
In those eyes, where exquisite dreams
Dazzled in splendor, once.
Taking leave without saying a word,
In the magnificent lustre of the evening sky.

Is there any emotion that hesitates
To surrender, to silence?
Any lyric or utterance that could not be subdued
By the mind, in its reticence?
The spring time is receding bidding adieu,
Offering its ultimate bouquet of flowers.
The leaves are silent preparing to fall down.
Is there a heart that can’t be suppressed
By the mute will of the mind;
Any sound or any rhythm, beats or cadence
Or music or vibes, that could resist?

A throbbing heart…

The grandeur of the blue sky,
In the face of a dewdrop;
The beauty of an entrancing spring,
In the heart of a tiny blossom;
The happiness emerging out of the depth
Of the soul, as a ripple in a lake,
Through an innocent and divine smile.

The vermillion adorned on the forehead
Reminds the golden hue of the morning glory;
Two bluish fishes gliding inside the twittering eyes;
The darkest of nights hiding in the locks of hair…
Who is this nymph appearing in my dreams?

Is that tears those cheeks are holding;
Or are those the scripts of an epic etched in the heart?
I can hear the sweet throbs of the heart in
A rhythm, like the song of the nightingale,
Calling its mate in a desolate night,
To roost, and share the warmth of its body.

Modesty….

What could be in those eyes?
Mascara of a golden dream?
And the mascara is diffused with
Saplings of love, unseen by anyone else.
What is encrypted in the heart?
It is butter, and flame on the wick
Immersed in that butter of affection,
And cascaded over the chest
By the exquisite delicate hands.
What is gleaming on the cheeks?
Crimson ruddiness when it was pinched;
Anticipating the return of her lover
Turned into a hue, of the springtime vineyard.

Of time and tide.

Time is a strange lover!
We don’t know anything about him.
But we know his sweet beloved, the life!

Blessing her with redolent dreams,
And giving bitter tears of fusty musty despairs;
Will embrace her with vibrant passions
And cast her away with sore hatred.

Will make a hanging garden for her,
In the sky festooned with scented flowers;
And build a palace of wax for her to live in.
Bring up loving children in that palace,
And in the end, arson it with despair.
That’s how the dreams end up!

Will show her unseen visions of Elysium and rapture
Take her away in a golden chariot to show her around
Will sing melodies to lull her heart to sleep
And disgorge her in the desolate wilderness somewhere!
That’s how relationship exists in life!

GOD IN SLUMBER

                                           



Who is blind now?
God, who is slumbering in the high heavens?
Or the man, who crawls in the dust of the earth?

Who is blind in the desolation of darkness?

Groping shadows are wandering through,
In their unknown path of life,
Without direction, or aim.
Even when the scorching sun’s brightening
Light is there, there is darkness at noon,
All around me and all are opaque and obscure.
Humans are building castles in the illusory
Mirages of the mind, with their desires.
Nevertheless, with the sweep of a hand of Time,
They perceive before them vacuity, having
Their dreams shattered and dilapidated
Without any of their fault, leaving no trace!
That is life in to-to!

WHO IS BLIND NOW

Who is blind now?
God, who is slumbering in the high heavens?
Or the man, who crawls in the dust of the earth?
Who is blind in the desolation of darkness?

Groping shadows are wandering through,
In their unknown path of life,
Without direction, or aim.
Even when the scorching sun’s brightening
Light is there, there is darkness at noon
All around me and all are opaque and obscure.
Humans are building castles in the illusory
Mirages of the mind, with their desires.
Nevertheless, with the sweep of a hand of Time,
They perceive before them vacuity, having
Their dreams shattered and dilapidated
Without any of their fault, leaving no trace!
That is life in to-to!

Looted Spring!

There is a strange lover!
We don’t know any thing about him.
But his sweet beloved is, life.

Blessing her with redolent dreams, and
Also giving bitter tears, of musty fusty miseries.
Will embrace her with vibrant passion,
Then cast her away with hatred.

Will sometime make a hanging garden for her
In the sky, festooned with scented flowers;
And build a palace of wax for her to live in.
Bring up loving children in that palace,
And in the end, will arson it with despair.
That’s how the dreams end up!

Will show her unseen visions of Elysium and rapture;
Take her away in a golden chariot, to show her around.
Will sing melodies to lull her heart into sleep,
And disgorge her in the desolate wilderness somewhere.
That’s how relationship exists in life.

At the campus…

Last day at the campus…
Bidding farewell to the loved ones!

They were standing beneath the arbour;
He asked her, looking eagerly into her eyes.
“I have given you my heart and life, so long,
My beloved, what do you want to give me, in return?”

She replied.
“I cherish to give you whatever, the flowering
Season grant, to a blossoming tree.”
“I desire to do whatever, the butterfly
Wants to do with the flowers.”
“Whatever, the dew drops do with the petals of the roses.”
“What the soft ripples always do with the shores.”
“What the moonlight do with the dark nights.”
“Whatever, the raindrops will do with the good earth.”
“What the morning light, does with the darkness, at dawn.”
“What the clouds do with the blue sky, all the while.”
“What the lonely mooring boat in this river, does
With the placid water, when hugging it.”
“Till we diffuse into one soul and
Fade into the soil of the earth, at last;
We as one entity, you in me,
And me in you, happens as a universal truth.
Then as a torrent of love, we move and meander
As one, till our last breath and reach the ocean of love.

To the stars with love…

I asked the stars and the planets in the firmament;
The Pleiades, Orion, Betelgeuse, Arcturus, Jupiter’
And the countless galaxies, in the universe.
I asked them your name, which I did not know.
None of them knew your name!
But they together asked me one question.
“Do you love her so much?”

I told them that she is someone precious
To me, more than the value of all the diamonds
In this universe, that could be mined.
That I cannot be replete, with all the love
That I could muster through the innumerable
Days and nights, equaling your numbers.
I will not be gratified with the quantum of
Moments equal to the number of sand
Particles, this earth is having.
I can wait for her, through ages
Equivalent to the distance, from here to your place.

If she ever imbibes a drop of the nectar
Brewed with my love, and its passion,
That I am keeping for her, as pure as a drop of dew,
It will expand and swell into an ocean inside her.
That will never dry up, but enliven
Her through births and rebirths through eons.

Unheard melodies…

You brought a tambourine of a rainbow,
To accompany my songs, while I sing;
And stood by my side like a blossom of sweetness.
With same dreams, and same splendour and opulence.
Same longing and yearning;
The mind becomes a tidal wave of insatiate
Passion lying dormant, hitherto.

My beloved! I am seeking the nectar amidst
The petals of the blue lotus
Where your countenance blooms;
Let your sweetness sprinkle on my life,
And souse me, to adorn over my thoughts.
I diffuse in the caresses you anoint in me.
I glimpse the gold fish swimming in your eyes,
The pale moonlight in your smoothening words;
Your mind is the confluence of all rhythms, and
As I taste the heavenly nectar of the gods in the notes
Of your tambourine, when you play on it,
I turn to become a tender sprout of the spring.

Magic potion!

Love is a munificent emotional state
Of the soul, in unison with another.
Love between a man and woman
Is a tender emotion flowing through the mind
And will persist so long as this world exists.

Its musical resonance in the heart
Turns anyone to worship that sentiment.
It enslaves the minds, with the radiance
Of the sweet smile, lurking on the lips.
I saw that fond smile once
Turning everyone into a somnambulist,
With its spell and sorcery;
Create a thousand heavens and gift them
With the goblet in its hand, sparkling with love potion.
I heard that invocation of spell.
I saw that ensnaring chalice.
Come, it is for you to imbibe!

Reveries!

Reveries, memories, recollections,
Reminiscences, of the bygone days;
Shivering, cracking, and shattering
On the shores, of the solitary mind.
Impossible and infeasible is the attempt,
To forget a face, once seen and clasped
With the tender fingers in affection.
It keeps on appearing on the screen,
Projected in high resolution and sharp.

Misery is a lonely wanderer, and I am
Invited with the blaring of its trumpet.
Golden dreams took leave of me and left,
Yielding place to turbulent despondency.
Passions aspiring to disseminate,
Are like evergreen climbers,
Endeavoring to reach heaven,
Gradually through seasons, and
Dry up wilted in the summer heat!

PEN PUSHERS…

Illiterate quill and soul, without insight
Once wrote a book, lacking in its conscience.
Tears and smiles, love and frustrations,
Melodrama and myths were packed inside.
A flamboyant cover, depicting the body language
Of voluptuous beauties adorned the front.
Sex and violence, sex orgies and sex abuses,
Gays and lesbians were the heroes and heroines.
Ample writes up, in vintage magazines
Carried curtain raisers for the launching
Of the book, by the renowned publisher.
First edition sold like hot cakes and
Print orders for two more editions
Were at hand; all went well…



Later I met ‘him’ at a wayside book shop
Prowling among the book racks.
A corpse, devoid of the glamour, once he had;
Time changed and new beauties outwitted him.
Tastes of the populace changed and he could not
Write what is demanded, and lost in the battle.
The publisher made a fortune, splitting awards
And prize money with the author.
Now he is discarded! No fanfare!
No more impressive reviews!
It died a natural death, with the author.

Wayfarers…

Who owns the wayside inn, where we find our refuge?
What do we lose when we leave, to cry over a loss?
We meet to share the path for sometime
And then walk away into two directions!

Is birth the preface of grief?
Is death a curtain for dreams?
Birth and death joined together
As life, is just an infatuation, a fallacy!

A rainbow as flowers of smile, blooms
Always, among the clouds, of distress and despair.
A wayfarer will say that he is unable to forget anything,
Just as the path will say that he dare not die;
And it gives its chest for the footfalls to
Traverse on it, throughout day and night.
Died yesterday; born today and the path
Keeps and protects always the wayfarers.
Unobtrusive, unknowing we walk on…

End of an epoch…

Here in this path, in this shade of the tree
We will bid farewell, not to meet again.
We will part here the same way
We first met together at this spot.
The ever cherished sweet dreams
Even if, upon the funeral pyre
May soar up, as unsated passions.
The magnificent images etched in the mind
Would appear again, even if they are wiped away
With the tears, emanating from the soul.

Do you remember the sweet
Promises we exchanged,
Under the shade of this old rain tree?
May be the branches of that tree, while smiling
Again under the embrace of the dew drops of the autumn,
Could remember, those ravishing enticements, now.
May be the laughing and playing ripples of that river
Could envisage the past scenarios, we enacted
On its banks, and remember how your veil was
Torn, while kissing you for the first time
Watching the sunset, sitting in the golden sand…

Of human affinities!

Affinity! Affinity of love
Undulating mental bonds!
Always on the trail, following our life…
Infinite, boundless and endless
Magnetic waves, surpassing birth and deaths;
Encompassing all sentiments and emotions,
Sometimes trespassing on the values of life;
Meeting, and then separating with a yearning
And longing in the soul, to meet again.

We are lone travelers, born as orphans at our birth,
Seeking a wayside inn to rest, in this travail.
Even our meaningless dreams we shared
Are so sacred, hallowed, and devoted;
We identify that and recognize each other by the
Fragrance of our soul, through every re-births.
We are so pure and innocent in our souls,
And that bestow the dexterity to acknowledge them.

Love stories…

All love stories are similar to each other;
The eternal triangle; divine; celestial, tragic,
Sometimes, comical and frustrating too.
Same characteristics, same culmination,
Right from the inception of this universe!
In this terrain when the chariots of heaven
Dislodge the light and darkness
On the rugged landscape of the earth,
There flow the tears of the heroines of
These stories as streams, resembling each other.
In this dismal gloominess of desolation,
There arise and bloom flowers of poetry
Of the same caliber, and tinge;
With the same pathos and disdain,
Of dreadful afflictions and anguish;
Of the disastrous culmination of a tender emotion!
Universal, yet very personal and adhering to the soul!
Trampling over the hearts of humans, lhe road roller of time
Moves on, stamping and pulverizing to naught..

Futile birth…

Could it be possible for the vanished dusk to
Appear again in a rebirth into this earth,
Where the flamboyance danced earlier?
The wick in the lamp looks as a flame
Of a flower, so bright and splendid
That has bloomed in the anguish of parting.

I am waiting for your return, with sadness
Filling the heart, like the monsoon flood;
Fondling the soft feather of vivid
Memories, in the realm of my reveries.
I hear the footfalls of the seasons
Passing one after another, reaching
My ears, faintly in my delirium.,
Pots of moments shatter and crackle down,
Melt and disappear into the earth like rain water.

Why am I sitting atop the coral island, on an iceberg?
That dissolves into the ocean, senseless,
And ignorant of my futile birth.

Forsaken…Forlorn…

An ocean in the eyes
Sweet solace in the words,
Sad disposition in the mind,
Like a wandering nightingale in the dark.
Did the smoldering heart
Emanate a melancholic dirge from the lips?

You were a delectation that was never allowed
To be enfolded in my heart, hitherto.
And now you have become an ember ablaze
Of a dream I have been weaving all my years,
Inside me, imprecating my very existence.
My love has turned to be a tune jotted on the soul,
At an inopportune moment of desolation.
You are a sad melody flowing in the mind
As a dissonance, and my heart is made
To be as an earthen lute left out and unclaimed
In the wilderness, by someone.

Foiled dreams…

Once you came into my life as a florid dream;
One day you left, bidding goodnight from me,
Like the notes of a melody fading gradually,
As the reverberation of a tuning fork;
Tell me whither you went!

You came as a song and vanished like silence,
Albeit, you cannot disappear from my reminiscence.
Are you departing my prima Dona,
When the spring sky has blossomed in its bluish tinge?

Who is crying in this dreary night
Breaking the lassitude, faintly in obscurity?
You came as a fragrance engrossed
In love, into my life’s unfrequented path,
To accompany me, rubbing shoulders all the way;
And became my alter ego and heart throb.
Who is wailing in the wake of this midnight,
While the milky moonlight is languishing,
Like the cry of a wild cockatoo?
As the sky calls out its beloved earth,
Like the starlets invite the clouds,
With their winking and shimmering eyes.
‘Come my beloved’…

Vanishing fairy…

Could it be the heaven descending to this terra firma?
Could it be a dream, spreading
Its flamboyant plumes, in reality?
Or all gorgeous creations of God
Have diffused together to form
The image of a woman, in real life,
And appearing as one entity incarnated?

The blooms dance in mirth when the honey
Beetle hovers over them, with lust in their hearts.
And miles of smiles rollick in their lips.
I am gliding in the frenzy of an inebriety
Aimlessly, without the knowledge of my body and mind.
Clouds that tranquil the lofty hills in their laps,
Embrace and hug the clouds for their fragrance.
Come my beloved, floating over the chilly ripples,
To my side and enfold me in your love!

Adieu…

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!
Adieu…

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!

MEA CULPA!

I have to make a true confession!
Please do not throw any stones at me!
I will tell you the truth of my love life!


My first love: I could not even utter a word to
The heroine of my love story, as I was afraid too much!
Second one: The one I wanted to love, never
Knew I ever existed even, and was
Ignorant of my vigorous passion for her.
It was in the third episode, I thought of
Writing a love letter, but it never reached her,
Because her mother took delivery of it, from the postman.
In my fourth affair, I appointed a messenger
And the girl started loving him instead!
She never knew about his employer.
The next two attempts-fifth and sixth
Did not succeed, as it was in the middle
Of annualexaminations,in the school,
And they both were very studious.
Seven is always an auspicious number in numerology.
That was how I could understand the real meaning
Of silence; my inexperience in matters of love!
When I failed in my eighth attempt, I switched
Onto a beard and smoking ‘ hash’ and grass, carrying
A small cotton bag, hanging on my shoulder.
And they tagged me as an ‘intellect’.

But when the earth moved away from under my feet,
In the ninth episode, I realized that despair
Will flare up anguish in the soul, torturing it.

Now tell me one thing! Can we call these
“Experiments with love {Truth}”, or pure ignorance or insolence?
Let those who have not done any of these in life,
Let them cast the first stone at me; others please drop their stones!

Gratitude!

I am grateful!
Because you have never asked me to forget you!
Just because you never said you hated me!
There is no more elegance in my words,
That was flaring once, and now
Insipid and without vigour;
Spewing out of the pen having lost its tip.
In the penitentiary of thoughts
There is no more agitated throngs of images;

Now it is time to tell,
Without any sentiments,
The strings that forgot to sing the tunes;
“I am grateful for the recitals that you
Have very graciously emitted from those strings.
Thank you abundantly.”

These are a few of my favourite things...

25 Random Things About Me


THESE ARE A FEW OF MY (FAVOURITE) THINGS!


I hate highbrows and hypocrites.
But love white cladded maidens
On their way to church, on a Sunday.






I like fast Cars and fast drivers;
But hate to travel in a public transport bus;
And travel to the end of the world with a companion
Who shares the same interest with me.








I like to eat the lunch from a pack
Bound in banana leaf, with curd and lime pickle
On top of cooked rice and French fried potato in coconut oil
Walk through lush green paddy fields
In the morning sun and a chilling breeze.





Listen to love songs of yester years,
Brimming with innocent and vibrant love.
Read space and science fictions
And spy thrillers and crime stories.

I like those who dislike me,
Like Bindia, who nailed me on this cross,
And pray “Father, she knows not what
She is doing; forgive her trespass.”

The eternal angle…

When you plant your flag of triumph
On the pinnacle of hate, I will call you out,
And ask you one question.
“Tell me now, do you love me truly.”

If the reply is an emphatic “No”,
You have lost from loving me, as
It was a challenge, all through your life.
If your answer is “Yes”, again you
Lose in hating me, which I really
Wanted you to believe, was my desire.

Even before any such answers, I have
Failed already, in my relation with you.
When I lied, ”I don't love you.”
Because it was more than love, that I felt inside.



When you parted and ditched me
I never wanted to abandon you.
And hence I failed miserably…
The eternal desire!

Hermit crabs!

Two isles set apart at the greatest of distances;
Like hermit crabs crawling into its own shells,
And hiding, frightened by the amorous itch in the heart;
Those who dare not look into each other,
Being afraid of even kissing sometimes;
Those who have played complicated scenes
Deftly and very spontaneously;
Naturally, and convincingly before others in life.
Who have been the main characters of untold stories,
And unsung lyrics of songs, unheard by anyone;
Who were baffled, by keeping the entrance
To their hearts, perpetually closed throughout,
All stages of life- childhood to death bed.

Who walked away, not turning and looking back
To have a final glance once again, at last,
While parting into two paths, at the crossroads;
Taming the sea of tears, extinguishing
The embers of dreams and dreariness,
Trouncing it furtively in the soul.
Who are they?
Don’t wait for an answer!
Just close your eyes, and open now!
YOU AND ME…….

Your caress...

It could be just an agitation in the mind
That devoured the words unknowingly;
Words that smouldered in the stumbling heart.
Or it could be the wailing of the shivering soul
In the wind of a winter sowing silence around.

Our lingua franca is so rich with the many beautiful
Words, if they are unsaid or unuttered.
What will be the colour of the feather, falling down
In the recess of a dream and reality?
At the inception, it will be flamboyant with
All the seven colours of the spectrum;
Then fading and blanching into
Disgusting grey, and finally
Into the copper colour of age old brass vessels’
Patina, where most of the time, love takes
Its toll of death finally, and walk away.

So, my dear, swallow your words you desire to utter,
Let the wine of tender love give crimson
Hue to the starving innards of my body,
And intensive sweetness to my scorching lips
Together with a benevolent touch on
My pale emaciated arms.

And perchance to sleep…

Once again we are looking out
Through the windows of the pale moonlight,
Into the darkness beyond, silently.
Candles of my grief stricken desires will
Never burn out or melt away.
The edifice of passions built in the subconscious;
The brandishing waves of the blackened sea
In the mind, is swirling and swelling up...
Like a hornbill’s thirst for a sip of water,
With scorched tongue and sable bill.

Let me jot down behind this bit of paper,
My woes, finally to console myself.
About how we met, then became so close,
And then parted, turning away our faces.
How the smiling buds withered dying,
Without keeping any more unsaid words;
Hiding away behind the mask of silence
And shattered all aspirations in life;
Overtly forgetting to look at each other,
Declining the touch of a finger even.
Suffice this much; let me sleep now in
The depth of this cavern with the heart
Writhing in anguish, of unparallel dimension,
Wearied nonetheless, till I am content.
Do not wake me up till my last breath.

In penance…

Swallowing the untold words of love in my heart,
Without the blanket of imagination in the mind,
Falling asleep in the rumpus of a weary night;
Lighting the funeral pyre to my wingless dreams,
Clanking the bell on the anklet of death,
I am now bidding farewell to my world.

Suppressing the roaring waves of an ocean of wrath
And melting the wild embers into the eyes,
Entangled among the cobwebs of darkness,
Stifling the sound of a weak snivel,
I am not crying in front of others.

Writing the crimson glory of the coral sky
Of the evening, in strange words,
Stretching out in the twilight and
Craving to resurrect and wakeup, seeking out
A word, to portray my woes.
I am cloistered.
I am the silence!

Sustaining and coveting to emerge from
The ant hill, to be a tiny wick of a lamp,
Daring to challenge the onslaught of the wind;
As a thread of rain, falling incessantly into the earth,
Through the tip of the thatched palm leaves;
Let me be silent for a while!

An anathema…

Lost love is an anathema in this birth!
Loving and then losing it,
With undisclosed reasons!
It could happen with anyone in this life;
Like an ember lightening up suddenly
And extinguish, leaving behind fumes of
Frustration, weakening the mind.
In every turn of time and seasons, it reveals
Opening its shuttered windows to show us
Strange sights unwarranted and unexpected;
Commanding us to see what are destined.
And our eyes avert vistas already familiar...
Does this eye decide what should be seen or not?
Does an arrow decide its trajectory and target?

The sights we see directly with our eyes
Could be pictures drawn by someone in the snow.
And will vanish when the summer heat of time
Touch its ruthless fingers on its canvas.
Though the flaming visions in the chest will
Never fade away into oblivion.
Despite the cruel heat or rain or mist
Or grueling circumstances benumbing us,
Will always stand like sculptures in hard stones.

Fluttering wings...

This is a woman…. And her life!
Like a migratory bird devoid of
The nest of its own, to roost every night
In the company of its mate, in bliss.
Wandering through far distant and strange lands;
Searching for food and a shore for shelter
Across the sea, in the trail of those
Who flew that way before her…

Leaving behind the nest that heard her first cry
For the nectar of life, from mother’s breast;
Renouncing the comforting consolations of loved ones
And their affectionate caresses and safety,
Flying away into the boundless horizon.
A migratory bird!

Strange faces, when spotting an unseen land all around,
Bizarre habits of the people and the curious life styles;
Life forgetting the dreams
Forgotten to see, and at last,
Like the wilting flowers of the evening
Ending like the shadows that fade away;
Again revamping a lust for flying again,
Into the plethoric magnitude of the sky,
Leaving behind, a faint flutter of the striving wings.

Solicited trespasses...

You were made for me in heaven;
I belong to you only, ordained for ever.
Keep these words chanting in your heart,
All the time you are awake;
And your subconscious will follow
When you are asleep;
When you walk alone;
When you smile in your mind;
Preserve these words in your memory.

I longed to sing a song about you,
And then you came as its voice,
Rippling and filling the air sweetly;
And when I kept open the door of my heart,
You kept hiding like the fragrance of the spring,
Wafting in the air, the scent of the Mogra flowers.
You became the pearl of my cheerful vibes.
Give me the thirst of your passions!

I yearned to have a glimpse of you;
Then you were hiding from me, mutely.
I could not tell you all that I needed.
Why did you vanish instantly, touching my soul?
What made you prompt the sprouts of my tender emotions?
Why did you unfurl your love in my dreams?
Why did you open the door in the chamber of
My nuptial bower, sneakingly without my knowledge?
You took my silence as my accent to everything!
Was it not a trespass- solicited of course?

HOPE...

If there is a fragrance lurking in the air,
While I awaken you, in this moment,
It is none other than the retrospect on
The lute of my forsaken soul, about the time,
Which sweetened my life, in the days of yore.
You will reenter to touch me with your reviving
Breathe on my soul, as a dream from beyond the senses;
Turning aeons into nanoseconds, bringing
Moonlight and tranquility into my life.

You will be flaking a smile around you,
Analogous to a garden of flowers in the spring;
The alphabets I jot down entirely for you,
As my poems will assume music, and reverberate
In the firmament encircling you like a rainbow.
You will not be able to remain as a recluse
And hide away from me, at that moment
But emerge out into the limelight.

You only have given me thoughts and imagination!
You only taught me to write the alphabet into
Meaningful words, entwining your heart.
I have a vision to melt into the infinity of
Moonlight and build a world of my own
For our being together, and all alone.
I have wings to fly around, and find
The unboundedness of those dreams;
And I have feathers withering and enlightening
The gloomy paths of life’s ubiquitous regions.

URBAN!

The city is an ocean!
An ocean in the true sense!
Calm and serene; wild and furious;
Smiling, playing and teasing;
Muddy and with eddies down below;
Seductive, charming, and adoring;
Disgusting, abhorring, and despicable.

Loving, admonishing, rebelling, and quarreling;
Liquefying in passion and settling in compassion;
Like waves filled with froth and driftwood.
Human Sirens are roaming all over tempting us.
Beckoning us to sin, always tantalizing;
Alluringly lusty, and appealing to carnal desires.
A tarantula with spooky claws, and beady eyes.

But there is no space to lay down your head;
No hearts to share your grief;
No consoling hands to soothe your sorrow;
No souls to surrender your yearning love;
No ledge to keep your burdens for a moment;
Here you have to run to go forward as
The throng pushes you from behind.
Then you stumble, stagger, falter and drop dead.
The crowd treads over your lifeless body
And march away to an unknown destination!

Last moments!

Empty sky above the head;
Wilderness below, and where am I?
I am just like a hornbill in penance,
Longing for a drop of rain water,
To quench the persistent thirst.
Can you give me a drop to wet my throat?

All my senses are fuming in despair,
In the centre, of a sacrificial fire.
(Fire on four sides, and sun above.)
Could anyone be kind enough to
Pour a thimbleful of holy water,
Into my scorching soul and satiate
My thirst, for a moment to revive me?

Death is awaiting at the doorstep, with a hearse
To carry me away into utter darkness.
And when the grills on the cage of my spirit
Shatters, by the flaps of my soul fluttering
On its sides, and shatter them away,
Is there anyone who can moisten
My blistering lips in those last moments,
With some water drops of life, to prolong
My existence in this earth?

That evening...

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 a bloom
Shrouded by minuscule drops
Of the morning snow,
As the footsteps approached me
I found you as another grandiose 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.

Return...

Come with me my reminiscence, to return
Where the blossoms of golden dreams are
Awaiting for you, to be again with you...
Do you believe that the unsung music will
Encompass all the solitary tunes, that
Emanates from a lonely heart?
That all unseen splendors are contained in
The dreams of a flower that could not
Be adorned on the plait of a bride?
That all the unfading fragrance of the spring
Are held in the palms of a hasty wind,
That came this way and hurriedly left
To some other locations, in its wandering?

Is it possible to keep all the pangs of a life time
In the flame of a lighted evening lamp?

SCRIP…

In this flight of stone steps;
In the shade of this banyan tree;
If you could sit with me once again!
I will enfold you with all the flowers that
Wither and fall down in a whole summer.

If you could come to me, quietly like the dusk
Of a monsoon day, I could give you
A complete spell of rain, to chill you with bliss,
And I will stretch as a lightning around you.

If you could awaken as a flower, clad in dew drops
In the winter, I could share the warmth of my heart,
And preserve you without wilting in the winter cold.
Strange and unknown are the paths of our future;
I long to scribble a secret hitherto untold,
On the petals of your tender heart
If you could come to me, at this moment…,

Oscillating passions!

Goddess of my heart! Did you forget
The blossoms of dreams, we gathered together in
The baskets of our hearts, in the past?
The melody, we composed in the lute of our soul,
Of our love, and its vibrant tones?

Are those flames which enlivened in
The temple of your eyes, with dreams
Dowsed with the fuel of love, extinct now?
Through ages and rebirths I was saving
Those specks of flowers resplendent like
The evening sky, in my heart.
Did the beautiful castles you built in
The air of your day dreams, topple down,
Like a palace of cards, in your life?
A mansion embellished with beds, made of flowers,
Kept awaiting through ages for us to lie down
And enjoy through our nuptial nights.
Did that mansion dilapidate, and now raze to the ground?

This life is a branch of a tree,
Where dreams come to roost
All the time, and desires fizzles and vanish.
Here I am happy of my birth, when I enjoy
A tender breeze embracing me with its love,
A bower of jasmine, where I spend my sunny daytime.
And in there an oscillating swing where passion emerges,
And perchance you with me, all the time...

Immortal!

Ophelia and Hamlet,
Caesar and Cleopatra,
Othello and Desdemona,
Homer and Milton and Shakespeare
All are lying in their sepulchers,
Benumbed and forgotten.
Even Kalidasa and the sage Kanwa
Have passed into oblivion.
But Sakunthala still lives in the mind,
In the fathomless depth of human conscience
Alive as a sad idol of womanhood.
She still lives on the bank of Malini;
Pregnant, carrying the embryos
Of her sons in the womb.
In the sacrificial fire, she carries in her mind
Burns a thousand dreams, she pampered,
All through out her life for her future, as
The all knowing time is grinning and guffawing.

The Dushyanthas of this age still thrive,
Forgetting and evading such unsullied maidens;
And a thousand aspirations blow apart, in the torrent
Of tears which flows out of their eyes.
Still the Time grins and guffaws…

Obsessions of a life time...

I feel I am embracing you, when I touch
The soft petals of a blossom;
And sense your tender love in
The splendour of the moonlight;
Your eyes are sparkling stars of the heavens
Shimmering when you are beside me;
Your mind overwhelms with your fondness,
As the bluish sky, with its fathomless depth,
My heart sizzles with the untamed waves
Of the sea, while your countenance
Reflects in the ripples of a tiny brook.

It’s your tears that lurk in the dew drops of the morn;
Your enamouring smile, I see in the jasmine bunches.
The hue of my dreams, are splendors of the rainbow;
The fragrance is that, you poured in my reminiscence.
The pining spring you caused to burgeon in my life,
I remorsefully recollect, benumbs my senses,
While I sit in the closed chamber of my retreat;
And touch the rain drops, through the open window.
I feel the frustration, for the lost specks of your love,
Which once adhered on the tips of my fingers,
That flew away now from me, in the wind.
The pale sky of the evening fills sadness in the mind.
In the gloom of the night, that dismay is writing
On my soul, with the black ink of my destiny.
Again a hope is kindling the flame of
My life, expecting you back into my life.

Forgotten dreams...

Have you forgotten the dreams of yesterdays,
We fondled together and savoured?
The magical notes of endearing music,
Together we shared, through our affection,
While playing the strings on our lutes.
Are those flames you lighted from your
Fantasies, in the inner temple of your eyes,
Extinct now, and has wilted for ever?
They personified the blessings, I gathered through
My rebirths, in wait for you, as the blossoms
Of golden dusks in the garden.
Did those mansions you erected in your dreams,
Tumble down and shatter with those stupors?
The castle which was flamboyant with those
Nuptial bowers with flowers, was waiting
For us to enter in, for many rebirths.

LUNACY...

The heart of a man is a bedlam
It’s a dance floor of chronic diseases.
Each emotion is lunatic,
A wayfarer dying at last, running after
A street car named desire.
The world is an illimitable place,
And in there the poor man is
Like a speck of dust in the sea shore,
Seeking a fallacy called life,
To sleep for ever, before he retires,
No need to foster a secret hope,
No use to show a derailed temper,
Everything ends when the final breath
Is arrested by the Almighty!

Proposals!

Man chase many an aspiration
And God decrees as He wishes;
Ivory towers build in the mind
Are shattered to smithereens;
Sweetest dreams diffuse in the tears.

When we get a flower,
We desire for a garden,
Full of dazzling blossoms.
When we accomplish that garden,
We aspire to have the whole
Of spring for us.
Thus blossoms thousands of
Dreams in the mind, that finally
Wither, in the desolate forest of death.

Is it feasible that gold can
Blot out tears from the heart?
Can it drive away the agony in the soul?
Could any treasure, earned
With out the sweat of the brow,
And blood, last permanently
In life with anyone?
Man proposes and God disposes.

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.