Way to heaven

It had been some ten years ago
Got that song , simply oneday, out of a radio,
I was then on the road, surely, traveling,
To a hilly spot, I remember certain as do I feel,
It had been a stupendous morn,
The sun had then out of the thick woods born,
Carrying warmth through the mist laden air,
I was made spellbound by the scene fair,
Then I thought out of the woods
Where time like ancient algae ridden statue stood,
Came floating a flute so enchanting and soft,
Must have reached near heaven I thought,
The greenery with their mossy layer wrapped
The music perhaps that got my attention rapt,
And I just tried to get taken away by the Beauty so
Which took me to the hills and their wonderous show,
I heard the murmur of a brook too,
Cool crystal clear water as came to my view,
The rippling sound got interfused with the flute,
I thought I was made to just there stay put,
I dropped off the car and stood quiet,
Slowing getting drenched by misty light,
And the flute , it was weaving a calming day,
I just stood there losing all words that people usually say,
I just stood there and heard and felt
How the dews and fog and mist before me melt
And planted their marks of water on leaves,
How there , I felt within the way to heaven, deep.

Maria was that girl

Maria was that girl
Who would by weather go,
She would sing if the sky is blue
She would dance if the land is green,
And with songs she would show
Little children what it did mean
To go by always singing,

Maria was that girl
Who would be always at her free will
She would teach the children to feel
The sweetness of the flowing breeze,
She would never stop or cease
From doing what her heart would to her tell,
She would gather the children around her
And mesmerise them by her musical tales,

Maria was that girl.

A walk with her

Holding her hand in mine one dusk
Singing a praise to the day
Walked through the meadows just
And got by her whispers of love swayed,
It had been such a walk wonderous
To feel the grass beneath waving soft
And to get the fragrance of flowers
Waking up after a mild spell of shower,
Holding her hand into mine
Walked a few miles green dressed
By the setting sun's shine
Had been so beautiful to trace
Our Love getting slowly spread
Across the meadows dotted by blossoms red.

A view to remember

There I got once a view
To remember for years few
Wild blossoms where bloomed red
Amidst the vast green space,
There I got once spelt
By the aroma of flowers red
Mixed with yellow pollens
There I got once the Divine sense,
And stood aloof for hours amazed
By the play of setting sun's slanted rays
Drenching the wild with a different charm
There I stood as if enbalmed.

For that maid

For her would I often wait
She that village maid
Who would come to pick fruits
From the tree that by my window stood,
She would jump to get hold of the branch
Of the tree to pick mangoes hanging beautifully,
She would sing as she would run and hop
Around that tree where she would come to stop
Every summer only to pick mangoes ripe and yellowish slight,
And I would just her watch drenched by afternoon light,

For her I would wait the whole day
For her to come there at noons of April or May,
She would sometimes do a jig of a kind or dance,
Being in harmony of Nature's heavenly abundance,
She would sometimes make calls to birds Right there where I would wait for her, for hours,
She would there arrive like a fragrant flower,
And I would there wait for her to arrive like a song,
For her I would oft in summer afternoons long.

Country road

The road that went to the hills
Running through a sleepy vill
Is the one oft I go taking with glee
Where Nature's boundless bounty
Comes with awesome serene feel
That road how I take straight to the hill,

The birds there sing with happiness found
Their songs how there with love remain bound,
The road every moment how newer scenes invokes
How there I wandering in lust get soaked,
And when the day brings me there the belle's smiles,
I think it has been really worthwhile to walk that extra mile,

The road that went to the hills
Giving rise to a poignant blessed feel
Is what I always long to take and follow
Where at every bend nature her beauty sows.

When the night sky came down

When the night sky came down
We looked at the beauty
She and me,
Struck so by the night
Beside the pool
Reflecting the ocean of the sky,
Those little twinkling things,

We just looked at the sky
And wondered what brought us
To that tryst to behold
And feel the Calm of Divine splendour
All around us,

We thought we were made part of the vast
We became completely unconscious of us,
We became Dreamers then,

When the night sky fell
Upon us ,
We realised truly,
What made us stick together
Through all nights
What made us to fall back
More into love,

Then we made the sky
Our meeting place,
Our sweet rendezvous.

Garden of flowers

It would have been just another day,
Had I not wandered away
To that garden of flowers

It would have been just another day
Had I not wandered away
To the warmth of Thy love

That lake and its wonders

After a spell of rain, when the lake would get filled upto its brim, oft we would there go and under those green green trees would sit and watch fish and tadpoles playing near the bank. Usually the afternoons we chose for at that time, the lake and its surroundings took the most silent serene shape. There were scarcely any human around at that time and we would have enough time to do our things like chasing tadpoles with sticks or trying to catch fish using worms hooked at the end of strings tied to twigs.
Sometimes one or two ducks would come floating to us. We would watch their white feathery forms and their quacks oft would fill the air.
Not far away , in the barn, men folk would remain busy arranging the hay or threshing the corns using ladder. The sound of ladder hitting the earth got mixed with quacks of ducks or chirps of birds who thought of adding Beauty to the afternoons simply by their cries and calls.
Sometimes a kingfisher would come and sit motionless perched on a branch of a tree, looking at the water. If any fish would come to the surface, the kingfisher would fly sharp, swooping down and picking up the struggling fish held between its legs.

After a spell of rain, that lake provided us with little wonders and how we had always taken them straight into our hearts.

Winged

She faced the sky and the clouds
And looked at the expanse of the hills,
The breeze came and took
Her frock , her cape and soul,

It had been so wonderous
To look at her and those clouds,
As she became winged fancy's another name.

Lighted motion

The evening then had grown just
Into a night of busy traffic,
I was standing at the bridge
Watching how the city sped up , stepping on gas,
Lights flew by like little dots in motion
Weaving threads, fast
The cars plied, on the drive,
The wind came like pulling me away ,
From the bridge, thought I , would be floating away,
Taking the ethereal space,

The cars whizzed past, honking,
From the bridge it looked like a toy town,
All moving fast, a lighted volition.

With her, in the woods

Met her once treading along the path
Through the woods, near that bridge,
She told me she had gone down that path
Long ago reaching the that land of wonders,
Trees where told her stories of kings and queens
And horsemen who had gone there hunting,

The woods was lovely sunlit, scented leaves
There left traces of spring in the breeze,
Following her cues, tried to find those birds
Who chirped haply the birth of the morn,
Under our feet dry leaves made crumpling noise,
The day seemed with Poetry so poised,
Asked her what did she there find,
She looked at me and charmed me by her eyes,
They held tales old and also new,
They held little droplets of dew,
Accumulated on her soft eyelids,

"What not did I get here?"
She said whispering through the air,
"I saw how flowers with love bloom,
I saw how petals opened to fill Heart's room
With more of kindness that the Divine for all spread,
Here I days of dreams with paints bred,
Saw and felt the green earth's serene presence,
Got thrilled by the tranquil blessedness,
Found all that I wished to discover and unravel,
Through the woods I to lands of unknown did travel,
In the stream saw school of colored fish playing,
Savoured pleasant solitude in stream of water murmuring
Life as it flows by you and me,
Found there songs hidden in towering trees,
Reaching up as if to touch the beautiful sky,
There with poetic fervour how oft I did lie"
She told me all these as if she spun a magical weave,
Right there near that bridge in the woods that ran deep,

I heard her words, looked at her lovely blessed Face,
Felt like I found in her nature at her best.

The pulling of chariot,

It would have been no less than a spectacle
To watch and to be amazed,
Thousands thronged at the road
Children, youth, women, old,
Pious and the plebian all together,

The chariot they tugged amidst great fanfare,
Chants of offerings heard occasional
Made the road of the town a moving sea
Of Teeming Millions ,

Those who didn't want to get into the mêlée
And yet wished to savour the fest,
From windows and balconies they found
The jest of people pulling together
The chariot, a grand sculpture
On wheels inching slow,

Smell of jalebis filled the air,
Already turned sacred
By cries and shouts and prayers,

Nearby a fair had grown overnight
On the road right  there,
Little stalls makeshift sold
Toys , bangles, flutes, drums,

The pulling of the chariot
Continued
Unabated, unhindered, a joyous spurt,

Wheels there moved through dust and dirt.

Dusky *

When the sun goes down behind the bushes and hedges,
And the sky turns a Beauty by its own,
I know dusk has come as my love
Singing for me to keep me charmed.

(*Note: the painting attached is done by J. Sams. Courtesy : Keith Linwood Stover)

That place

That place had so many things for us
Under the shade of trees a long afternoon to pass,
And those blooming krishnachura red
Love how they by their sweet murmur bred,
And those ponds and little piers to rest legs,
Wintry evenings whence came with mist so fancifully dressed,

O how they had become part of us,
Even when we are so away from the place,
O how those little fragments and scraps
Of memories come singing leaving a faint trace,

O that beautiful serene place.

Riding phaeton

You go riding phaeton
Through the woods,
Horses' hoofs making a plunge
Into the dust,
And like a charioteer through the wild
Summoning songs of yesteryears,
You go throwing away
Dust as speck of gold
Drenched by the warm sun
Peeping through the leafy banners,

You go riding phaeton
Through the woods
Taking the path
Meandering.

The children of the garden

The sprawling garden inside that enclosure had been our place of daily gathering. Soon after the hours of school we would there gather. During summer vacation, when we had more time at our disposal to do things which we always wanted to do, that garden became our shelter. We would there go as early as eight or nine in the morning and pluck fruits as we pleased. Fruits there grew abundant, mangoes, guavas, lemons. We would there go feasting. Sometimes we would sit under the big shadowy trees listening to the sweet chirping of birds which like us, gathered there.
The garden, so big and vast, always provided us with some sort of adventure.
We would watch different birds, their calls we tried to imitate. We would climb up to the branches of trees, made a swing tying twines.
The owner of the garden lived in a mansion at the far end of the garden , near the river. Rarely they came out to see what mischief we played there at their garden. The garden had been our refuge. We spent most of our daytime there. As a result, we knew almost by sight, each and every tree in the garden.
If any new sapling would be planted, we knew exactly its location. If a tree got felled for some  reason, we knew that too. The garden gave us so many wonderful memories- memories of learning to imitate calls of birds, of chasing insects like bugs and beetles, of catching dragonflies and tying string to their tails and making them fly like little pets, of playing hide and seek all the afternoon till the dusk entered the garden with long shadows of trees enveloping us.

The garden taught us things about climbing trees and making swings. Once someone collected a discarded rubber tyre and we hanged it from a branch of a Tree to make an improvised swing. Then there had been a little fight amongst us over who would get first the seat at the swing. The garden taught us our primary lessons of zoology and botany perhaps for we learnt to observe the flora and fauna there. Moreover, the garden made us awesome  friends. We became friends in the garden and the keepers of the garden too. We, almost unknowingly became the children of the garden.

To that valley of spring

To that Valley of spring

To that Valley of spring
Oneday thought to go,
Where by the days the trees bloom
Bringing Beauty for us,
To rest our eyes and be blessed
By the lovely and eternal show,

To that Valley of spring
Oneday will you take,
Where the country road runs
Through the green lemony and lush,
Upon earth where nature
does a heaven re-make,

To that Valley of spring,
Oneday thought to go.

Over the heap of guns and bayonets*

Over the heap of guns and bayonets*

Over the heap of guns and bayonets
Oneday we will stand up straight
You and me or our playmates of yore,
We will oneday stand there sure,
Holding our Love a hope,
Amidst bloodshed we would stand
And unearth those mines down the slope,
We will sing for Love and only Love,
We will sing for doves,

Then how the world with us join
Seeing us standing right there
Over the heap of guns and missiles
We will surely new words coin
To replace obsolete words-
Hatred , malice and other things,
Sabres, machetes, swords,
We will over them stand.

(*Note : picture courtesy : Sam Carlo)

To that night sky

Once under the sky of a night
Filled with the glorious sight
Of stars, moon and Celestial things
We sat benumbed quiet,

The castle old near placed on a mound
Looked like a witness by history bound,
And the occasional hooting of an owl
Made the only perceptible sound
Amidst the sea of silence,

How we then under that sky traced
Our Love, we sat quiet when as if blessed
By the night sky falling upon us
And time as in slumberous pace passed,

You perhaps ran your fingers on the soil
I perhaps talked of the toils
That lovers oft go through
Pains of Love I showed thence to you,

You saw those marks on my moonlit face,
Perhaps you saw my throbbing heart too,
And then you upon my hand yours placed,
We thus remained clung for hours who knows how long,

O how we to that night sky once belonged!