anil gupta's blog

how do we strive

how do we hive

off the share of pain

that belongs to others

and make it our own

after all only when we aborb the pain

we become a sponge

we absorb more than we often release

let us strive

to be a sponge of serenity

do not spare me, Kaali Ma

i opened the door of your temple

when u asked me to keep them closed

may be you wished only deserving ones to see you

but what could have i done

being undeserving myself

i broke the rule

let me be punished

let me not be your doorman

do not grant me your grace

let me see how

justice will flow

the radiance on your face glow

how you will render compassion in your sermons

how will u accommodate the excursions by the virmins

Hold me like a creeper does

When the tree is about to dry

But the destiny of the vine is

Not constrained by the time left for tree

To live

It is its ability to complete its journey

On the trunk, debris of leaves or for that matter

In the cervices of dead wood

Lying on the forest bed

Waiting to be swallowed by the beetles

Of time

May 16, 2007

Do not stand at the door

Come in and sit

Do not look for all the signs

Of  the wasted tears

That have been flowing through the eyes

I had painted to capture your smiles

Now that you ask

What shall I say

What was the balance

Of the sins I committed and

The service I performed at the steps

Of your temple

Will one will square the other

I wish that were possible but that is

Not going to be

Do not stay bewildered

Accept my plight

And smile

Smile

After all there is always

Some light left to reflect

No matter how dark is the night

You have been quietly bearing with

My absence

When you needed me to be around

I did not want to hear any sound

I closed my room and all the windows

The seeds do have to harvested now

Even if one does not realize,

What one really sows

That’s how we suffer

When we learn

That we caused pain  to those

Whose dreams were in our prayers

Why has the cloud suddenly burst

Why has the spring closed its fist

Do not stand at the door

Come in and sit

Do not look for all the signs

Of  the wasted tears

That have been flowing through the eyes

I had painted to capture your smiles

Now that you ask

What shall I say

What was the balance

Of the sins I committed and

The service I performed at the steps

Of your temple

Will one will square the other

I wish that were possible but that is

Not going to be

Do not stay bewildered

Accept my plight

And smile

Smile

After all there is always

Some light left to reflect

No matter how dark is the night

You will soak me in

Like a sponge

Absorb my pains

And swipe clean all the wrinkles

From my forehead,

When will you

Stop asking the reasons for all the spots

On my scarf

Of the sweat, soil and some drops

That splashed from the ground

When I could not hold

The rain of your love in my hands

the storms did not wait, nor did you
but then a wave has quietly receded into the sea
leaving some traces behind
i am asked, if i will come again
sing again
dance again
and i, feeling a bit shy,
keep quiet
let the breeze answer
for they know
where do i spend my nights
when stars take leave
of all the light
you gathered in the lamp
to walk alone
to the temple,
you sat on the steps
waiting for the priest to come and open the doors
so that you can meet your lord
but i don’t wait any longer
i do not want to meet also
i know every time we meet
going back becomes even more painful
do not i have enough pain already?

how can you forget

that i did not wish you in time

will you trust me that you remain in my thoughts

when i pray that we live like the vagabonds

who do not reach any where

but meet off and on

around the fire in cold morning

when you breathe mist

i some smoke

and they together

create a screen

beyond which we do not wish to see

well i leave it to you

to decide what you do
when u collect some marbles
with which we played
and then grew up so much that we threw these at each other
today when i lost patience, i realized that i had washed clean
my slate of the prayer songs i had written and composed
hoping that you will sing and dance
but then storms came in the way
you had to rush back home
and the
sound of my song was overshadowed
by the storm’s fury
at my vain attempt to hurry
and sing,

why are you trying to hang

so many prayer threads around my branches

these are now bending with their weight

will these not break

or bend or just dry up

i have not many branches

left to hand thse slips

let me  be devoid of this faith

leave me alone

so that i do not

have to explain

why so many prayers were hung

at my branches

u do not know

while answering every genuine prayer,

i have answered many not sio genuine prayer too

the guilt of those answers

now require

that i let me roots be dried up