maa...

Thinking about her is just like
making a revisit to the past ingloriously peaceful,
Little things which carry no value otherwise,
Come to me with multiple connotations-
of love, affection, pride and refuge...

Little insignificant things-
the smell of kitchen soot,
or, that of the known talcum flakes...
a dab of cream on the face upon some wintry morning,
a benign smile,
an all knowing stare,
an angry face with all heart's pains painted straight,
a wait at the table for the arrival of her little prince,
an act of self effacing defense...

Little things done without any strings attached,
only out of love,
-pure, undiluted;

Little things that meant so much
That once you start missing them,
you simply cannot forget your associations with them,
You miss them forever!

O mother!
why left me so poor?
why left me blinded?
why?

near you, on tiptoes

,

You have stayed like a stone;
Though you have kept within me the liquid desire...
And I pluck blooms out of  the void,
And sacrifice my best, prized flower
On the bed of consummation,
Ignite the core of my heart with the help of the distant star-

Filling my folded palms with several other arrangements-
Wishing every time to inch towards you,
Near you...

The Return

Will you not leave anything for me,
Now that you have wiped out all marks pregnant!
Why do you rob the colour off the Ashoke blooms, red,
Born out of silence and neglect, clandestinely,
At a corner of the grey street?
Emptying your palms
You try to etch out pictures of rich, sensuous youthfulness,
Forgetting those marks of divinity on the white marble...
Where have you kept that unsavored glorious light of yours?
Why do you wear on your eyes, turned away from me,
Blackness of the burnt out taper-
Wishing only the courage of the breezy, deserted  terrace
On a full moon night!

Reclaim

With the cool wind through my hair,
And the heart pumping fast,
Standing atop the Fort,
I felt I could see the blast from the past...

I heard the screams of thousands
Marching ahead with swords and sabres,
To wage an unequal war;
They knew for sure
They would kiss death
But still they fought,
Till their blood soaked the green pasture
And the river Parang turned sanguine...

Standing atop the relic,
I witness the gory sight
And reclaim myself...

I have been there...

Watching the sky reaching trees
Algae green wrapped,
I discovered
I have been there...
For thousands of years...

Far away, the dots of lights
Piercing the misty loneliness,
Remind me how far
I've traveled-
Leaving behind the four walls,
The soft cushions of desire,
The idiot box screaming ad jingles,
The bill boards featuring bubbles,
Bumper to bumper vehicles standing still
On apparently ignorant city streets...

'Can't I stay back?'
I asked aloud.
My question got echoed
Several times before it got drowned
In the dark calmness of the distant hills;

I shook my head
And started walking down
The path being carried by my unwilling legs,
And I knew
There was salt in my eyes
And stone pressing hard on my bosom...

At the door...

A dream for you...

I have been floating on a boat of cloud since last night,

And Methought, the dense, impregnable darkness of the sky

Like the secrets of the knowledge of Time,

Would be revealed to me;

The voice of the Time

Coming to me penetrating the curtain of memories,

Was trembling, spreading all its wings;

With the object of touching it in my dreams,

I sent across my desperate call;

The call of mine went high up to the northern sky,

Till it met its destiny, the Pole Star;

And I tried to invoke the star through the art of magic

Learnt by my lonely heart;

The Pole Star said:

‘The Northern sky is my room,

If I get drifted away,

Who will show the light to the ships?

You go away, and weave songs,

And let those songs come to me by the wings of clouds;’

So, I searched for a speck of white cloud in the sky,

To send my songs to the Star;

But alas! I couldn’t find a bit of cloud, white and pure,

To be my messenger to the Star;

Only the black demonic Nimbus

Came down laughing,

Encircling the periphery of my existence;

Methought, I have no way to unravel the mystery of darkness…

Just then, as if by some providence,

 Removing the rain drenched curtain of the Nimbus

And piercing the bosom of the moist smell,

 Like the deflected truth, the whistle of a train told me-

Leaving behind the riverside life,

 I have almost reached the desert;

And at that particular moment,

An unknown bird, swooping down straight

From the visage of clouds,

Threw to me a heap of sarcasm from her wings

Before she flew away to the meet

The call of the horizon…

And I discovered my all new born poems

 Left grappling for a breathing space

Amidst their prosaic existence,

 Trying to reach out to the Sun,

As if they are trying to know

The history of their origin;

Despite knowing the name of their father,

I just left them afloat on the uncertain waves of my tears,

As I was desperate to save my grace;

And I noticed

The drops of water falling incessantly

From the captive Sun

On weary, dry leaves of my poems,

Left grappling for a space to breathe,

And Methought, they looked blessed…

have i ever?

Hey!
Have I ever thanked you?
No?
Then its the time, I think,
To give back all that you've given me...

All those listless hours of waiting,
All those sleepless beds,
And the stroll down the mist filled path,
And the smell of the gandharaj in bloom,
And the memories of songs bejeweled by your tears,
And the dreams woven on kantha stitch sarees,
And the raindrops pattering on tin roof,
And pieces of paper torn off hastily with a flushed face...

Believe me,
I want to give them all back,
Exactly the way they came to me,
With you,
Without you even!

All I need a big envelope,
A real big one,
Perhaps as big as the milky way...

please,please,please...

'Please, please,please...'
I continued in an apologetic vein,
'you can't do that to me!'

'Why? what I've done to you?'
She asked, blinking;
'You can't be so sincere and devoted,
You can't be so serious,
You can't be so morbid,
You can't be so much weak...'
I said, still feeling half extinguished
As I wanted to talk more...
To breathe more...

'Do you feel that I weakened you?'
She asked,thoughtfully.
'Singularly'
I confessed without any hesitation.

'Let me go then...'
She said, hinging her head down;
'Feeling guilty?'
I asked.
She just smiled.

I could feel her smile
Wrecking me inside,
I thought it was my turn for being guilty...

Answer

You wanted an answer
That would erase all tugs and pulls
Of a swaying heart...
You wanted an answer, precise, pointed;

A needle like thing, I suppose,
An answer, unequivocal, piercing, straight...

And I groped,
For an answer,
Rummaging the bookshelf of my brain,
Turning inside out the cages of my heart...

But I failed;

Then I thought
what about seeking the answer
somewhere else?
So I took a plunge into my Self,
I stood before the mirror
And scrutinized my face, my nose, my limbs
Till I came to look into my own eyes...

And then,
I realized what a fool I have been
To look for an answer, unequivocal,
For a question that had been
the source of all creation
Down the ages...
Down the time immemorial...

O how I wish to go back to those days!
O how wondrous it could have been
To play the day long with little soldiers and lions
And those toy guns giving out smokes
And how in my mind I thought,
The whole house as my playground...

And how the sky talked with me then,
And birds chirped their daily grudges,
And the fleecy cloud would ask me to fly,
And the trees were my friends;

How wondrous the days were then!
From morn till night
Without cares and smell of money,
Without a soul for worldly things...

I Follow U

I follow you,
Every day,
As the day comes to the end
And the darkness descends,
I follow you...

Every day you arrive,
In new dresses,
To blow me away,
To far off lands and places,
To distant dreams,
To unrealised hopes,
To unraveled mysteries,

And you tell me
'Every day is a new day'
As I follow you,
From the roof top,
From the bridge over the railroad,
From the unkempt garden,
From the window seat,
From my every possible co-ordinates...

I follow you
As you follow me...

RESURRECTION

I ran up the cliff
Braving the mist and the whiff of cold air,
As fast as a man could run
For his angel
Waiting on the top with her unbraided hair,
And a pair of anxious eyes, so deep and black...

I reached the top
With burnt out heart and blisters
On the feet and bruises
All over my sweaty soul...

The moment she saw me,
She flashed a smile
And I thought the sun had been born again
Out of the mist, out of the clouds...

I thought I had the sun within me
En-theosed
I thought I glowed
And the aura spread far and wide...

I thought
I was born...
Again

she

where have you searched her? In vermillion, turmeric smell,
At the Lord's shrine, in the vegetable heap, in the flower pot hung
At the verandah long,in wardrobe under the folded jamdani saree neat and perfumed,
Look for her in the twilight drenched roof top,
Through the string taut of the kite in flight.

where have you left her abandoned in the silent deserted morn,
with water dripping from the wet saree just being kissed by the sun just born,
Having the terminal knot full of the known smell! What do you search in the briefcase unknown?

Do you get the hunch in the colourful pages of cellular existence?
Have someone gifted you the kasturi carefully kept in a silvercase?
Think, recall...those wails and words of bygone school days...
whom have you dressed in whose strange attire,playing those games childish...
Games of kings and queens and princesses and princes.