anil gupta's blog

when the subtle stirrings
from corridor of silence inspire,
why do we feel desolate,
why should empty arms,
not embrace all the sunshine,
all the colour on the horizon,
go out and reach for that elusive smile,
which sustains the hopes,
of a shooting star

finding a way is not easy
i have always faltered
but there are ways which
took me to places unknown
moments not experienced
breaths not heard
and i liked it there
it was all in mind
there were no lampost needed

will u accept sacrifice
o Mother Kaali,
of a defeated soul?

will you let me offer
my drained dreams
or a bowl of promises
brimming over with froth of unkept words
why do you
not accept
just myself
as i am
or as i was or
as i want to be

slowly, seemingly silent, the stirrings
in the deep well of soul
are traumatising
but the resolution is well timed
if the silverfish had eaten
all the pages of the old diary
nothing would have remained as witness
of the worm eaten memories
but their grace has left enough signs
of what happens
when i betray the confidence of those i love
and not enough
as if that is all i can confess,
i do

when the storm swept me
of all the pretenses
leaving nothing to chance
torn, debarked
stem of the tree was not sure
if to live and still sprout
or die
a natural death to
feed the millions of lives around

when the birds chirped
a squirrel was waiting
to be treated
with respect
and given attention
she would find worthy
but the birds are no less demanding
and so is cat, waiting in the wings
amidst all the sounds
i find oen specially haunting
the one which does not ask for any thing
but dissolved in the cacophony of the rest, slowly
slowly
silently

can purpose fuel passion
to embrace all the hurdle
bake brick one by one,
hard
and yet leaving a hole in the middle
who knows
resonance of some sound
some time,
may insulate the building
housing the archive of missed meanings
lost deadlines
and vain hopes
some how

in rain and not getting drenched,
not easy
and yet, that is what true devotion
demands
but devotion to the moment is
not always so generous
it takes away covers
leaves flanks unguarded
it makes us vulnerable
when proximity travels long distances
and intimacy evaporates
let me soak rain
without getting drenched

let me know
if the fences will grow this way
i bend
i kneel
i worship the Kaali ma
and yet when she is about
to shower her grace
i retreat
fearing her anger
revenge
and boundless love
which is no less dangerous
then her hate

why do i keep collecting straws and sticks
when the nest has fallen down
strong winds
high tide
wavering boat
uncertain darkness
and yet
i row
as if i dont know
where will the boat go