The messages

I get your messages
All the time...
They come to me
Just like the way
The dewdrops fall on leaves and petals;

Your messages, dear,
Are like the autumnal breeze blowing
Through the craters and the crevices,
And through the sand dunes perhaps-
Shaping and reshaping my desert sands all the time;

Your messages
-They keep pouring in
All the time
Even when you forgot to send them!

The flight of the day

'Ready for the flight?'
The male flamingo asked his fairer counterpart one day;

'Why? aren't we flying down the ages?'
The female said, sitting tired and somewhat amused by her partner's whims;
'Yes we are, of course! But...'
'But?'
'But...today is the day of a different flight, dear!'
The male bird uttered in a sing-song manner, as if he had a stream of happiness flowing within;

'How come this day is different?'
The female asked, curious,
'For today...the sky is so blue...and the sea is so green!'
The male flamingo said, and unfurled his strong wings
And took a long heave...
The female bird looked at him with surprise and fun...
She felt fun everywhere
She felt fun in her partners wings,
Fun in the trees, the sky, and even in the breeze...
'Okay!'
She laughed and joined her partner;

They flew far
They flew wide
As sweet dreams fly
Making the harshest the coolest!
They just flew
Enjoying every bit of the flight...

They flew over the lakes and the valleys...
Over hills and plains,
Over big cities and small towns,
Over seas and ocean...
They just flew
Being happy for being in flight,
Being proud of cutting across the resistance of air,

Thus the day also flew by,
But it made them realise fun,
The flight , they realized, made their day...
A day to remember...forever;

the enchantress

She came and sat
Just where I was sitting,
Quite silently though...
Only the smell of fresh lavender
Brought her in to my senses-
Busy as I was in my own world
Of dreams and hopes
Of pleasures divine;

She didn't ask me anything
But there was always
A kind of restlessness in her
That made me aware
Of her inner disquiet-
Disquiet caused , perhaps, by being sought after
By every discerning male gaze;

I felt
She needed help
-So I shrugged off my restive state of mind
And looked at her
And at once I knew
I was looking at someone desperately insecure,
Someone being chased all the time,
And Someone made tired by the chases...

Then she smiled, weakly,
Not keeping exactly with her lovely face
So luxuriously decorated;
And I looked on
To get full hold of the lustful lips so red!
Her physical reality so poignant!
But...
Her eyes...
Were they not moist?
Wasn't she a refugee?
Weren't her sorrows lying deep, too deep, under her beautiful facade?
I thought
I shouldn't be distracted by the too apparent...
By the glitz and the glamour...
So I chose the deep,
The morbid eyes...
The moribund soul...
I became the enchanter instead!

clandestine!

Feel like talking to you all the time,
But never ventured out-
Knowing that you have got no tree trunk by your side to lean on;

Who will bear the burden?
I?
I have been a strange man-weird, vagrant...

How many women can put up with the agonies
 Of being a true paramour?

If I flee from you
You will be dumbed, for sure...
And for certain the drops of rain will drip
From your lotus eyes...

You need a strong trunk of a tree-a strong trunk...
To act as a true saviour...
Someone who could just extend the glass of cold water
With a mighty heart...
With a heart of a saint, perhaps...

But is there any tree like that, really, dear?
A tree who could wrap you up in the wet, monsoon nights
With warm coverings of sleep and dreams?
Is there any tree trunk like that?

So...
I keep concealed
All that are clandestine...
All that I wish to share...
A kind of perennial wish staying concealed forever!

mother

Just after the sweltering heatwave,
You brought the clouded afternoon,
And made me soothed
Helping my tired, sweaty soul;

O how many times
You, the grand ol' banyan,
Shaded me from the sultry noon;

I just try
To gather as far as I can
Much like a silkworm,
Weaving and weaving
All that you left for me...

I discover,nonetheless,
How many seeds failed to grow up to become plants-
Fulfilled,
Despite the earth-so moist and fertile!

He the same, she the constant...

'Tell me,dear,
Has the time made us bankrupt?'
He asked, one wet evening,
Looking straight into her glassy eyes...

She said nothing,only kept her head down,
But he was kind of desperate...
So he repeated,
'Tell me, dear, please...'
And he went near her
And held her hands into his rough,stubborn hands...

'Don't know...'
She murmured...kind of absentmindedly...

'Please, don't be so inconsiderate...'
He almost pleaded,
Then suddenly he was gripped by fervour, unprecedented,
'Time has given us everything,
It has changed us for the better, forever...
It has made us all the more wealthy...we are so rich!'
He almost exclaimed, trembling like a string of a violin,
Upon which someone's fingers played a tune alien...

'Is it you?'
She asked, doubts and fears all over her...
'Is it you who asked me to walk the path through the desert?
Is it the same you?'

He just sat beside her,
With her soft hands into his rough, stubborn hands...
He said nothing...
He just sat there,
As silent, as the silent morn bereft of any blemish...

memories...

The moment my eyes fell on her
Something stirred wildly inside,
As if a mirror broke sending a ringing noise...

And, unwittingly, past life came rushing
And I almost forgot where I was!

The rattle of copper triangles,
The buzz of patient nonagenarians beside me,
The screeching of fans,
The stern faces of clerks at the teller counters-
All went blank, as if they never existed!

I only saw a beautiful woman in the prime of her youth
With scented hair, black and curly,
Telling me stories of life...

I saw her standing before me in her half dress,
Washing the child version of me,scolding me in fits and starts...

I saw her in wedding dress
With dots of sandalwood paste on her forehead
Smiling reluctantly
Through the window of a white grumpy car decked with flowers and rose petals....

'Hello!'
The clerk at the counter called me awake,
And the clatter of the bank crept back
And ,
I lost her...in the crowd
Once again...

encountering Satan...

'How are you feeling,son?'
My boss asked,
Watching me with his insatiable energy and vengeful thirst,
Now that he had thrown around me a huge conflagration
That inched towards me every passing moment
With its tongues red, yellow and hot...

I felt the hairs on my skin
Getting into little mounds-black;

'Still want to be the God, son?'
My satanic boss asked
As sarcasm dripped through each and every syllable...

'Yeah! still! come'n!'
I cried out of pain, of anger,
As I smelt something burning...
My rubber-soled shoe and my skin;

The boss laughed
Seeing my pitiable state
Bereft of vigour
Awaiting the doom!

Every moment seemed like eternity
Never ending...stretched to infinite...

Just then methought
Death had arrived to give me life,
I heard the boss cry:
'Stop!'
And then the conflagration stopped,
It just vanished,
As if it never existed
And I regained my losing sense...

'Hey! why you stopped that?'
I asked him, feebly,
(For a man who had seen death,
and the most inglorious and hellish one,
Being feeble and meek was the only option... )

'well!'
The satan said,
'You've got awesome tolerance,
You persevered more than I had expected'

I stood up erect
And pulled myself towards him
To plant a kiss on his cheek...
out of no gratitude, no fear...
Out of love, perhaps...
And the satanic eyes twinkled
He just stared blankly for a moment or two and muttered:
'God! I'm so pleased to be the God, at least to one...'

I thought
I saw the Lamb in him;
I thought
I saw Him-The weeping child;