Roses

Dusk was settling in as I walked towards the Bus Stand to board a bus for the journey to my Village. As I walked through the city I noticed a lot of lights, fanfare and music. It looked like a festival of some sort was going on. At first I did not realise the reason for this but on noticing the beautiful roses in the hands of people I recalled that it was Valentine’s Day.  It was a pretty sight and I stood there taking in the fun and excitement and just for a moment I thought to relax and mingle with the crowd and buy a rose or two. But then it was a pointless thought and I resumed my journey.

A Lesson Learnt in Time

Walking along a straight path

Went on looking all around.

The beauty, bounty and bliss,

The smell of success and joy’s sound.

The sights ensnared the senses,

The expectations enraptured the mind.

Went on and on unaware of the

Crater in the path divine.

The Rebel

A deep urge sets in
As I feel the wrath of the rebel,
Woken up from a deep slumber of all these years.
And now it takes over me and
The control of all my mental faculties.

The Blue Haveli

She stood at a distance, looking at the dilapidated building that had intrigued her ever since she was a kid. Mamta had had no friends ever since she was a kid. Things had not changed yet.

Therefore, whenever she felt lonely she used to come and stand right there gazing at the blue splendour. They said that this place had been cursed and so no one ever ventured as far as Mamta did. She had been told to do the same but her curiosity had led her to locate the breach in the fence of the adjoining farm and come here as often as possible.

Monsoon in November, Heat in December

To quote William Henry Davies, “What is this life full of care if, we have no time to stand and stare”, has been aptly worded to illuminate the robotic existence that has befallen man. I can vouch that cent percent for myself at least. The Welsh poet also illustrates the simple bounties of nature in the most extraordinary way exciting the literary geek to experience them all over again. Why am I all of a sudden in the middle of the night with an exam round the corner eulogizing a poem -my immortal love for nature? I remember reading this poem in the 4th grade and at that point of time in my life where I was a bonehead did not much appreciate the poem, castigating it as another intellectual poison inflicted on us poor souls. Davies is known for his simple yet deep work which has an earthy connotation to it. My favourite line is “no time to see the woods we pass”, because unfortunately with the kind of corporatised life that I have, I hardly have time to ‘check out’ (to articulate it in the local lingo), the wondrous lush greenery that breathes in the vicinity of my current residence.

Just Someone

Another second.

Another minute.

Another hour.

Another day.

And so my life goes on.

The blink of an eye,

And soon it will be gone

When the last hour arrives,

The happy moments and the sad stories

Are of the same colour,

And only truth survives.

But before I exhale my last breath,

There is a long journey ahead.

Sappho's Threnody

I am a sin, 'tis is true
I have let instincts guide me
I have dreamt of flying like Icarus
I have seen and loved Odysseus
I have been Artemis with mind for nothing else
And I have had no control..
I have let it be, even been proud of it.
I am a sin, 'tis is true.

Lament

I never dared to care too much, I saw           

Only what I wanted to see

I didn’t fight for what I believed in              

Truth is I didn’t believe in anything

And the bravest of souls could never cause me to see

There was enough left fighting for

And my once strong love for justice died in my sleep

And I awoke to a bleaker dawn

Destiny

An insect in the pupa stage, the metamorphosis as excruciating; 

Struggling to break open all, catch a glimpse of the world wonderful,

Peep into the intricacies of the universe; yet not willing to abandon

The cosy comfort of what has been the world:

Like a child holding in its tenacious fist

Every joy it found: the rain and the mist.

The Journey

Bhagwati sat dejected gazing towards the calm expanse of the Ganges. Her clouded vision preventing her from seeing the scene which was so clear in her mind – the cremation of Madhu, the support through her journey.

It was then that Sushila stepped out of the ancient structure where lived several young and old widows, ostracized by society. Sushila, a young widow lacked the spirit and zeal that a 20 year old possesses. Her eyes did not have sparkling dreams, just a curtain of sadness which covered the sorrow inside her. Sushila sat beside Bhagwati and began describing the funeral ceremony taking place on the banks – faintly visible from where they sat.

The White Illusion, or Reality

Barren white land 
serene, austere, plain 
with no start or end. 
No curves, no crevices, no mounds 
not snow, not grass 
only White.... 

And there, in the centre, 
centre of nowhere.. 
sits a humped lass 
with no company; 
not even the shadow. 
The empty whiteness of the land 
reflected in her face, 
making her so pale. 

The Blank Noise

The rains lashed against the window
While the darkness seeped over the town like a black shroud.

Between the roars of the sky,

I saw you leaving,
And I knew it was to never return.