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.

Forty five hours

'Why are you so dumb this beautiful evening?'
She asked me,
Smelling of Lavender...


Red pullover, glossy lipstick,
Marked eyebrow,
A neat bun,
A lot of couture...

'What are you looking at?'
'At you...'
'Me! Am I a stranger to you?'

Silver bracelet, blue jeans,
Pink mascara,
A rainbow clip,
A lot of lust...

'Not earlier, but now'
'Now? why?'
'Don't know...'

Forty five hours,
Three hours short of two complete days,
Three hours short of two rotations,
Just three hours...
Or just forty five hours of silence
After a long drawn brawl-
Within and without;

Red pullover smiled,
Placed nimble fingers on a sweaty palm,
'You're a fool!'

'Eureka!'
Me shouted,
And jumped
On the softness
To wipe off forty five hours of deathly strife;

A few paces away,
The hag with the grumpy face,
Counted silver-
Oblivious of Adams
And Eves;
Ignorant of Forty five hours' angst
That raged a storm
A few paces away.

In the middle of ...

Golden mean?

Middle age?

Midsummer Night's Dream

Have you ever witnessed
The strange fusion of childish whims
And superannuated lethargy?
Quietness dotted by flood of foolish blood?
Aging with agelessness?
Rhymes with reasons?

Have you ever
Woken up with a young heart and fading brain?
Have you?
Ever?
Caught in the middle?
Of a Riddle?

Have you?
Haven't you?

From Park Circus to Red Road

He comes every afternoon
To Red Road ,
Smooth macadam...

He comes wearing a pair
Of knee length pants
Holed and patched and holed
In many places...

The smooth macadam
Shines like the baked cake
Straight out of oven
Unlike the potholed alley
That led to a dingy five square;

Don't they belong to the same?
Smooth macadam and the potholes?
Holes and the patches?

Blood and wine

I woke up the way I do
-everyday,
The sun was red in the eastern front
And I remembered Red is the colour of blood and wine...
And Red reminds me of the roses
Dying every day
In your garden, in mine;
In the florist's shop round the corner...
Opening eyes, I found
Redness of wrath strewn all over,
In shapes weird and woobly,
In forms liquid and sticky
Like rivulets of wine ...

'Apocalypse is here'
Someone cried;
'doomsday befell us'
Shouted another;
I only saw roses on the graves!

Cobalt Moon

O Cobalt moon,
Colour me in your hue,
Colour me the way you are,
So happy and true;

O Cobalt moon,
Teaser of the night,
Colour me the way you are,
So shiny and bright;

Colour me blue,
Colour me white,
Colour me to live,
Colour me like bride;

Colour me silver,
Colour me pale,
Colour me to live through
All storms and the gale;

O Cobalt moon,
Why can't I borrow?
Your paintbrush and palette,
And colours of sorrow?

monideepa unlimited

Standing under her pink dotted umbrella,
She stood like a paper cut- out,
Singular existence...

She was thinking hard
For her eyes were half closed;
Lost in deep thought, perhaps,
As idiot me stood
Like an orphan
Under her pink umbrella same;

Did she mumble?
Did her eyelids bat?
I tried hard to fathom her,
Using my teethless groping mind...
And there she stood
As if struck by some serpent of unholiest kind;

Rain drops fell
Following a zigzag pattern
Down the cloth fringes,
Like molten lead-
Pure and Shiny drops...

A little distance away
Down the busy street,
Cars honk and run
Weaving curious simmering patterns of light
On wet, slippery road

And I thought,
God must be the pyrotech...

'You're crazy!'
She said finally,
Her eyebrows twisted upwards
Corrugated...
And hustled across the wet road
To meet a creature -
Better than me perhaps,
From every count;

I watched
Her going back
Stilettos black, brown purse, pink umbrella,
Swinging hip crossing the road
Abandoning an idiot by the heap;

I waited
Like the ancient sage in his cave,
High up in the hills,
Covered by ashes and soot
And snow-capped silence.

OLD and NEW

Even before I was born,
There was light and darkness,
The Sun was there;
So was the Moon...

And they were like friends,
Playing hide and seek,
Across the evenly spread vaccum
-The Milky Way;
All day long, years after years
They played hide 'n seek;

When I was left on the crib,
They were there,
By my side,
Like friends forever...

Then I grew,
Like the trees that grow,
Vegetable growth...
Across the landscape,
Across the equator and the meridians old;

Friends are they,
'Forever young'
'Forever old'

Playing games,
Forever...

Glory or ...?

It was a day
With rain and thunder filled,
And a man
Was crossing a bridge
-worn out;

The frogs croaked
Seeing the sky dark,
And the man
Was hurrying home
-tired;

The road was long
Kissing the horizon far,
And the man
Was running behind time
-Alas!

Sea god saw him,
Rain god thought-
How a battle like this so hopelessly fought?

Nature and Time,
The two pronged sword,
Could with the vengeance strike?
Or upturn the board?

The man had little knowledge
Of what awaited him...
Will it be glory?
Will it be doom?

Ran he fast
As fast he could,
Too eager to see
His lady's shroud;

At last he reached
The door he knew,
Knocked and thumped
But no answers flew;

Water dripped on
The floor with moss,
His lady slept
-no shiver or toss!

The dream merchant

Every day, at the appointed hour,
He comes and stands exactly here-
With his wares...colors of joy'
Green, yellow,purple, red, blue...

Every day, he draws the jolly faces,
Innocent smiles and wishes,
Obliging olds and insistent youngs...

He sells-
Dreams,wishes,wails,smiles
He sells-
Happiness amidst strife and hurry...

A dream

I woke up the way
usually I had woken up a millionth time earlier...
Sublime, sensuous and pure,
Covered by the broken bricks and mortars,
Against a perspective of a gray gray sky...

And,
There was the rain and the shine,
The blackness dotted by the white-
'Polka dots'...
They say;

And,
A pink blossom pressing up to meet the blue,

And,
A 'yellow submarine' diving deep into my belly;

And,
A rubbished thought spreading tentacles to get the sap;

And,
A pinkish dream, a balloon and a lucid existence...

Going back...

Its time to return home,
After all the wanderings
Across the rough and the smooth;

Its time to go back,
Where the dreams wait by the light and the dark,
And a veiled belle for me, sitting by the doorstep...

Its time to retrace,
The path I loved so much,
The way to home,
At the end of a cloudy day...

Its time, my friend,
To be there,
At the end of a month and a year,
At the end of the longest solitary ride,
At the end of it all...

The bath of the centurion

For the last time,
let me allow to dip myself into the cool
water of the generations...
One time more, the final one,
Before I embrace the eternal,
Before I transcend...
One time more, the last one...

Aging...

With the passage of the liquid clock,
Pouring forth all the time,
Age spreads like the wasteland-
vast and infectious...

Age spreads remorseless
-everywhere,
Like the green shrubs and bushes on unkempt
Lawns and parks and multiplexes,
On the young bodies and old minds,

Everywhere...

The Run...

I could see the way you soar,
Up in the milky route;
I could see how you flutter,
Away from the mundane and mist;

O It's so lovely to be there!
Tired souls, distracted...
You called on me,
To follow the trajectory
Of your forlorn flight,

Hesitant me, paused and thought,
For a while, as the unknown called;
'Get a move'n'-you said,
Eye to eye;
I thought I should join your generation
Of the unrequited,
I thought I should...
And so, I ran,
Like the arrow from the quiver,
Like the rain driving hard on steely road,
Like the lightning, hot and quick...

Leaves...and pearls

If you tremble a bit,i will fall .... The Fall will be mighty, i know...
If you blow a breath over me... i will die, a death so numb,
But i know you can take me out, you can freeze me to immortality,
Haven't you done that ever before? Haven't you ever felt the dying wish to live to the fullest? Haven't you ?

Silhouette...

It was an usual summer night,
Like it should,
Sultry and tiring;

Suddenly, you bumped upon me,
In a narrow dark lane,
With uncovered filth and ancient sadness;

'Who are you?'
You screamed, horrified
Staring at my shadow;

I didn't answer...
I fumbled for the key
I thought I misplaced ...

'My muse...' I uttered,finally,
Breaking the law of the game;
It wasn't easy nonetheless...

Lucky me that did,
All the works of unsaid words,
All the pains of unsung memories;

You recognised me-
Lean and pale,
Huffing and puffing,
A silhouette of strange morbidity;

Sunshine...

Who knows what may come
As night gives in to the day?

Who knows what transpires
Between the gloomy and the gay?

Denver not I
Who could feel it on his eyes...

'Sunshine on my shoulders'
Only into thoughts entice;


He the Man,
I wish to seek,

Providence, dear,
Becomes the lonely and the meek.