Knocked down by a reverie...

'Was that tree earlier there?
Standing stretched out with branches bare?'
He thought
Pressing his knuckles soft...
Going into a strange reverie
Afternoon dropped so many queries...

He knocked on the wooden door
Placing his ears tried to hear jingles on the floor...
Of silver anklet's charming bells...
He thought the past would him tell
Stories so many varied and young...
Stories woven in afternoon songs...

He knocked on the door twice...
Standing like an occasion bright...
As if he had come to renew old ties...
He just stood there betwixt truth and lies...
Every moment passed sepulchral
Throbbing like veins with premonitions dull
Asked him not to wait...
Asked him to ride back straight...
To his native place...
To where the afternoon would've changed her dress-
Into something purple huge...
But he ignored all expecting a deluge...

Finally the door got opened...
She stood there...swollen eyed...woken...
Perhaps from a deep sleep
Ten years...was a long gap to keep
All things tidied up...
But her face got surely lit up...
Her face got surely lit up...

Then he thought everything remained...
Just the original...just the same...
Then he felt in his nose
That smell of blossoming gulmohor...
Spreading out wide and far
Prodding him not to mar
His reverie shaping up
In her eyes just lit up...

A dream for a life...

There should be my cottage...
in vine covered peace...
would pass there my days...
would live life unleashed...

There would bees hum...
There would be champak,deodars some...
There would wake up with cuckoo songs
would live a rivery life long...

There would dip feet in grass...
would chew life full...
There would lemony days pass
There would be swept by breeze cool...

Inadvertently...

Inadvertently
Your hidden unborn flowers
Under a heavy shower
Once bloomed before my eyes...
And set pores of my skin
On fire...
Inadvertently...

On being lost...

'I went to a strange hill
Grassy...woody...with tunes filled...
Met a man there...o what a fluteplayer was he!
Pressing fingers on holes
He just stirred the montains and their souls...
At one point I felt as if
The whole world had nothing in it
But only a restful deep
In which every thing could be tamed to sleep...
Believe me nothing jarred
Not a noise could there be heard...
Even those trees and hills and the flock of sheep
They also made no sign...
Restlessness there I couldn't find...
And...surprisingly I also adjusted
To the silent ways as kept...
I also lost gradual...
The graph depicting my rise and fall...
All those systoles diastoles
Echo cardio records of my past...
All...all I lost...
And...as leaves fall onto dust
And mingle with the fertile earth...
I also embraced death...
And the death...had been so glorious-
That wish I die that every moment which pass...
And be born again the next...
Finding life in a perfect context...'

the maiden of the valley...

Staring wistful
At that not so distant top
She drooled...

The day has waned
The sun will soon its path bend
Behind those cliffs...
She sat there still and stiff
An eternal wait...

Staring wistful...
She drooled...
For her wight...
Thinking how she would him greet
As soon as she would see
His silhouette...
By that garden gate...
Where tulips bloomed...

She drooled...
Thinking so many things...
What from the town he would bring...
For her...perhaps a lovely nose-ring...
A pure shining silver...round
A bangle rarely found...
Or it might be a newly woven
 satin headscarf with a lovely pheran...
Hemmed with flowers at its border...

She drooled...
The evening changed into night...
Her wight didn't return...

Only the next morn
When the sun again shone
Her man...
Did to her gate return
But carried by helpful souls...
Over shoulders held aloft cold...

Her man...
Did return...
Without that lovely pheran...

vignette...

On the vine leaf...
Rain like a thief
Wrote ballads of love...





 

Atop...

'And the best part of this place...'
She continued lying down on the triangular edge of the terrace...
By me...looking up to the night sky
'Here cell signals don't work and...
You can think of it as a kind of cliff
From where you can jump-start a glide...'
She said...dreamy eyed...
while beside her I lied...
The sky looked like a dotted ceiling...
Threads of her soft hair probably
Flew towards my face...
I allowed them to caress
My soul and mind...
Below...much below
We both were sure
Life steadily might be on flow...
And cabs might be honking loud...
But we were both reluctant
To leave our flight with clouds...
We both chose to lie...
Under the open night sky...
So dark and pure...
Like the darkest form of disaster...

still blowin in the wind...(a tribute to Bob Dylan)

Perhaps all of us know
How the answers in the wind blow...
But do we really care?
Do we really have guts to dare?
The fences of barbed wire...
The rocket launchers...
Do we really them dare?

How many people have died
Since Bob...you wrote those lines...
Do you know?
Does the figure in stock index show?
Does anyone have any knowledge
Where exactly that dove fell dazed-
After flying across...so many seas
Where he found his desired life's lease?
We still look the other side...
In our smiles we tears still hide...
We still hope and pretend
Oneday all struggles will end...
As if everything will fall into place...
As if peace will naturally kill the unrest...

Bob...
You wrote it all...
Only your voice couldn't stop our fall...
Such shameless we are...
We spineless failed to dare...

kashmir...eighty six...

He had all the hurry of the world
'This freezing cold...
My father must be waiting for me
Under his favourite chinar tree...
For his usual afternoon tea...'
Thinking this he ran
Hard as his breath could possibly
him take...
He ran by the snow covered lake...
The samovar in his hand swung
Wildly as he ran...

'Hey you! Halt!'
Heard he a gruff voice...a jolt...
He stopped...knowing he was caught...
'For convoy duty you're sought!'
The olive green dress code
With a gun...automatically which bullets could load...
Told him everything straight...
'I would be late...
For my father who is on wait...
For his afternoon tea...
I got samovar...see?'
The boy fumbled out...
But the automatic rifle totter had doubts...
'You're an informer...
I know...
Now before me your head keep low!'
The olive dress code green
Showing his broken teeth grinned...
'I need to go...please...
Don't put me here...unnecessary...
I need to hurry...'
The olive green thought and looked far
'Okay!Leave me this warm samovar...'
'How could I possibly that do?
please leave me...' mumbled he looking down at his frozen shoes...
'No! I need warm tea...
otherwise you're not doing your duty...'
The man looked stern...cruel...
The lad knew this verbal duel...
Could put him into trouble...
He didn't know the way out of the puzzle...

He stood...still...firm...unyielding...
The olive green...his rifle butt upon him suddenly did bring...
Hard...wooden hit he got...
Upon his head unsought...
He fell...
The samovar on white color pale...
Upturned hot smoking liquid...
The tea in snow mixed...

A few yards away...
Where the chinar tree in wind did sway...
His old father was still on wait...
For a cup of warm tea on afternoon late...
He did wait...
Not really knowing why the shadow of his son
Couldn't be seen still at the turn
Of that road kissed golden by yellow sun...

a song played on car stereo...

When the car stopped
At the traffic post
A song from yesteryears...soft...
In car stereo played...
Unwittingly...to me said..
'Days once gone...
Never come back...'

'You're so restless...
Why can't you sit
For a while
When the sky with the ocean
So lovingly meet?
This starry...oceanic night...
Can't you hold me tight?'
She once told me...
when the air from the sea
Swept through fresh
Her white flowing dress...

Sitting in the car
The rain on  screen...
Took me to the sea far
And that night...came untrimmed
And the glassy barrier by me left...
Unbroken yet fully me swept...

Again... again...
Like that night
I restless became...
but this time certainly in vain...
'Days gone...
Never come back...'
That car stereo track
Blew in real deep...
On the back seat
I fell to sleep...

Spatial thoughts on her...

Getting out of enclosed space
To get a smoke...
When reached down
The pavement with pentagons...
Felt somehow she was on her way
To catch me...

She must be in a hurry
For thought I got a glimpse of her saree...
With black base...golden border...
Over the distant sky scraper
In the breeze aflutter...

A little later
Her perfume me soaked
With Clive Christian she me poked...
Her Imperial Majesty got me fell
Ambrosaic patterns her did me tell...
This act of mine standing quiet
On a wet footwalk like a fallen kite...
Is the only possible space for me assigned
At that moment...precisely signed...

evening...a part of being...

Another evening how descend
Smooth like a soft drizzle
Only for me a journey it meant...

Standing beside that singular tree
A branch following like a shadow of me...
A field filled by seasonal rain
A frog croaking persistently in vain...
A light from an advertisement board-
Dreamy voices penetrating ether poured...
A street getting slightly lazy
A glassy sight... trance like easy...
A melodramatic cry in between silence
A falling down to the deepest dense...
A smoky interlude like an eternal wait...
Another year of intoxicated fate...
Come to me like an exotic wine...

I believe its  magical effect
Can only be for none but mine...
And the more I am allowed to drink
The more in a dream I just sink...

More years God give me thus
Let me live through more evenings such...

when the rain fell...hard...

When the rain fell
hard
With a white blinding start
Like a cool music on flow
Catching sizzlers lying dangerously low...
Across the long span of urban life...
Hesitant...bedazzled by imposed fever and strife...
Joys...unbundled...severe...
Fell like 'Meghmallar' !
O dear!
The woken up soul...stirred up surprised...
Wishing to hold drops stretched palms prized...
Out of conditioned glass doors...
Black...cushioned...gaped at outpours...
Dancing revelry shot like arrows
Filling with water urban furrows...
This rain...turbulent...
A dravidan monsoon sent
Horrid torrid windy drums
To bury classnotes full of sums...

I see how the city rise above
Gameplays...moneygate scandals
Only in rains to be bound in love...
I see umbrellas color city like dots...
I see water nourish dried flower pots...
Hanging from dingy space
I see my city putting on a watery dress...
I see a Rebecca breaking impromptu
Into a jig under shower...flinging off her shoes...

for my kid

O kid! Don't you cry
Like a forlorn street don't you sigh...
For I am still here
why life's winding course you fear?
Still you got miles to go
Why to pains you foolishly bow?
Be brave...valiant...face life strong
You got a road ahead really long...
O kid! Don't you be a dumb
Grab life like a rare honeycomb
Only then you can live it good
Now...go get life...as it stood
Go out...take a plunge into life
To get hold of treasures take a deep dive...
Who knows you oneday might discover
A land long sunk...kept from eyes covered?
Who knows you might be that lucky man
To unearth a gem from layers of sand?

Upon receipt of your picture postcard...

Writing this to tell you plain
Yesterday received by the evening mail
That picture postcard of your snow covered lane...
And watched with particular interest
How on your window rest
White snow flakes...
And how the neon lamps spread
A festive touch on trees...
And probably the misty breeze
In a hushed up tone
Wake you up in a leisurely halved up morn...
Then I think you thought of me
Sipping from the warm cup your first green tea...
And sent that postcard so perfect
Though I received it quite late...
Your halved morn must have lost in crowd...
Your calender now surely got noisy and loud...
But now that I receive it
I can easily travel to your not awakened street...
I can see you there engaged...
Visible partially through the white curtain
Your engrossed self I could get...

Ablaze...

I sped...
Through the streaks of yellow...orange... red
As written by tail and head lamps
Of cars revving up like champs...
I sped...
Relishing the cool air
Through my wet hair
A shiver down my spine
A-d-r-e-n-a-l-i-n-e...
I zipped...zapped
Touching down the final lap
Of my round... just for fun
Playing a Russian roulette
I... r-u-n...
Whoa!
I scream
Heightened...
Brightened...
A blazing dream...
I became all muscle
An untamed horse...
Speed, fire, death...
I surely endorsed!

that pool of water...

That pool of water must've been born
Last night by the rains and storm...
A fine pool of water stagnant...
Upon which trees magically plant
Images of their divine growth
Little waves move images back and forth...
Images of the sky spent a bit
After the last night's first monsoon treat...
Images of my boyhood's fun and frolic
Running through the water...or a stone-throwing trick...
Through the water's flat silver surface...
Playing football in water...a muddy mess...
Images of paper-boats made of pages from exercise books
Stopping, turning, floating...on an imaginary mountain brook...
Images of cycling through the rain
Needles of sharp droplets...a slightly joyous pain...
Images of so many other relics from the past
On the pool float ceaselessly...merrily just...

 

for a change...

For a change...
You decided...like a revenge
Upon me...to cut off
Tresses black and soft...
Knowing fully well
How in long black threads of hair
I often dwell...
For a change...
You decided...like a revenge
Upon me...to topple your earthen spot
Moved away everything to create a vacant lot...
For a change...
You decided...to erase
That crayon touch on your dress...
Thinking that would end it all...
End the days with the fall
Of a night...devoid of dreams
Sleeping tight under a garb of aromatic cream...
For a change...
You go to the shop
Buy unnecessary
Practice 'retail therapy'...
Buy the whole world till you drop...
For a change...

A postscript...

The rain with torrents came so fast
That got wet within a few minutes...
Unwillingly got stopped just
Where in a rundown shelter did sit
A drooping old woman...cobwebed...
'Come here boy! You're drenched!'
she said...

Went to the shelter... hurried feet mine
A small candle with overwhelming dark did shine...
'You're wet...want to drink a cup of tea?'
She asked as if she for ages knew me...
I smiled grateful...

The old woman...
from a silver pan
Poured neat brown liquid
Into a glass quite quick
Though her hand always shook
And when the liquid I took
Felt warmth in it
By the generosity lit...

Took out a fag half wet
From her chulla by fire it set
And took a long puff...
The old woman probably coughed...
'Are you ill?' asked me
In her my lost mother I did see...
She looked up wrinkled face
Saw poverty had left marks of stress...
Upon her...every way possibly
Looked at her through the smoke from the glass of tea...

'Illness?' she laughed
'How would you that know?'
She asked next twisting her brow...

I said nothing
Looking away to the rain just heaved a sigh...
Thought how rain with that old lady me temporarily tied...

on a cloudy day...don't you me deny...

On a cloudy day such
If I want to touch...
your folklore laden hair just
Before moving away...
To the cloudy gray...
Am I asking from you much?

On a day cloudy such
If memories of you emerge
One by one like leaves on tremble
Waiting eagerly for the tempestuous rain...
Am I asking for much-
Imploring you to touch
The deepest of my existence
Now left bare...unfenced?

If the sky is herself so wet
With possiblities of rain...
If the day is so poetically spread...
Why my pleadings should go in vain?

If the trees are also pining hard...
Seeking wetness for their unborn buds...
Why you me deny
A bit of moisture from your dreamy eyes?
Why you ask me to hold
back my sense of being bold?