anil gupta's blog

Dec 17

When drops of dew
Danced on the edge of your Tongue
What could one do
Swallow the soup
Of unripe dreams
And cut her umbilical chord
Bury it
Under a tree

When you are where
no one goes
You have almost closed
The gate to that place,

The fire in the oven
The baked bread
The stale wine
And the roasted dreams
Of that shining armour
Which made the warrior lose
the war

“………

“……….

When the wrinkles
Had declared
the limits of license
That life could take
With moments so deep

The decision wasn’t tough
Nor the matter was rough
The layers of living memories
Had wrapped

The signs of significance
Why will
One not say
What had happened
Or shall I say , may
Happen in times to come
U can be sure
And all the burdens
Will be undone

………..

why should we need pensive interlude
when journey has just begun

cant we just remember
that a mediative pause after a few more turns
might make us lose the impatience for
reaching there
but how does it matter,
when do we reach where
so long as
you have bestowed, Ma kaali
me with the capacity to drain my reserves humbly,
and helplessly

why am i in so much pain
why are my eyes swollen
i want to sleep
in your arms
O Ma Kaali
let me in
but then you have always argued
only those can seek refuse
in your arms
you have lost the need for sleep
have i, how can i,
not yet, not still

will you still let me in
i have betrayed every time
you trusted me
whenever you asked me to stay still
i danced, whole night
on the edge of a hair pin
fallen from your hairs
and now when you asked me toc ome in,
i stand here waiting
bewildered
not sure
if i should come in
do i deserve to be in

when the dust storm had settled
it became difficult to hide the
pain hanging on the corner of my eyelids

i could not have masked teh
shivers of a bird in the cold night
she would not say any thing at all
keep quiet
but then cant i sense the cold
wind that makes her wings so sullen
how will she fly now
may be when sun rises tomorrow,
the frosty night will have been forgotten
wings will expand,
morning will shrink
and the eyes will dry up

why should i aspire
to wash the steps
of your temple
when you have not even blessed me once,
i discover some dust
which must have touched your feet
some time,
and take that as blessings

do i need any thing more
my pain, my anguish
my frustrating persistence
is ;ole only a petal of millions of flowers
offered to you every day
why do i persist
then?

why have i waited for so long
the shadows were with me all along
i was looking for you, but you,
like stilt roots, were supporting
a big roof there
under which a nursery of young saplings
needed you, now that the gate is open
and the saplings have grown up,
will you return to the same cave
in which ancient paintings by our ancestors
reminded us
of talking through
art, form, lines and colours
lest langauge limits what we have to say
had to say,
still say

when the stirrings
could not contain,
the brim was afar
and the lips listlessly waited
for
words
but they were far to seek
silence bridged the gap
between the yearnings and the blessings of the time

you stay there, close the door
and let me not come out
i may come too far
and then gaps may widen