anil gupta's blog

and then bury me, do not burn me

When I could tell you the stories

From the bed where I will lie

Not able to describe some of the characters

Who gave me oath of secrecy?

But whose place in the story

Remain etched for ever,

With impressions that they leave

No one ever really measures,

I will sing songs that could be sung by anyone

But whose words will mean

Some thing different to every one

You will quiz me, I will smile

And keep weaving the web, the carpet

Without having any worry about

Who walks on it,

whose worries are trapped in it

forever,

let me just disappear

let me just clear

my table of all tasks, all pending letters

to be written

and then bury me, do not burn me

so that by adding a bit of manure

I will let this world be richer

Rather then be more foggy, more smokey

dissolving you every day, bit by bit

There is nothing else that I could give you

Not even memories you can talk about

Nor the sweet talk that could force you

To turn around

I could not give you a seed to sow

and let you be proud to nurture

dissolving you every day, bit by bit

and letting her grow further

will I put it on my board

for younger leaders of future to know

why should they not ever fall in love

with their kins or even such strangers,

who may demand accounts

of every breath that you, or they borrowed

from the future,

and from the hunters and gatherers

when the stars fell incessantly
bad omen was written on all walls
but then that very night
was born
a dream
a hope
a possibility of something becoming some one
did we throw it way, almost
but the omen still is stuck
to the birth of his dream
but then dream is determined to be fulfilled
so much that eyes dont close
now for nights

when all deadlines have passed,
you need to ask, what is more to tie you
to the old dogma
of pressures of such limits
is it an urge to be there,
anywhere
some where
somehow

dont remind me that day, moist and far away,
dont show me the window
nor the all the gold that lay in the skies
dont ask me to show
all the pain i had in my body,
it still has not gone away
but i am aware
i was lying there
free from all coverings
that wisdom paints on one self
and then some storm
sucked all the spring,
why should one feel drained
why

dont whitewash this wall again
let the stains stay
it is true to its history that way,
let the stains stay

why did you call me other day
when i had no hopes left
and there was no reason to say
what you said, unhesitatingly, your way
yes, just your way, u will complain
for what could not be done, how hard he tried,
but be as it may
i will still try, you will not sense it,
i will still try, and pray
no matter what you say
i will still and pray

why has autumn set in already
is spring too far this time,
will lake like
or the sky will spike
chances of any tsunami
breaking out of banks
no matteer how strong
will the waves measure
the depth of the anchor
by breaking the ship

Kaali

you have wetted all the curtains of my house
wind was already cold, now it is humid too,
as if all the tears
have evaporated and dissolved
in the breaths that you take

why should sad music surprise you
dont we let silence speak
in the moment of sadness
can we not hear, feel and perhaps
touch the breaths
that are so far apart
and yet are dissolved in the same sky
that has teh clouds
which rained today
albiet slowly, hesitatingly

when blossoms bloom in your garden
waves gather all the foam of fame
that boats had sought
quietly
when storms had resolved to publicise
but now in obscurity of oblong shadows
you are sulking
and moistened leaves
of diary are
refusing to even turn easily