anil gupta's blog

‘forgive me my tresspasses’ said the bird

to the gardener

but then how can a bird tresspass

how can boundaries of graden be ever so impervious

why should we seek permission to enter

the courtyard of intimacy

why should journey to one’s inner temple

be laden with responsibility to be orderly

are we not praying all the time for peace

why deny then the shower of peace

which comes only when we are unencumbered

with the memory of our actions

ego and predelictions

when purpose is all that remains

fellow travellers leave one by one

all in search of grapes of garnished hopes

but now when the roots have dried

the river does not fill the wells any more

it has changed its course

get used to live without shade

may be the pursuit of purpose warrants

sojourns in silent shadows of

unmet desires

of those who wanted to lend their hands

but then had to withdraw

will there be thaw

when she bent like a rainbow
with one end in the sky
and the other in my arms
i was stunned by the silence
the train started to move
and the rainbow lifted its veil
all around there were birds chirping
as if to declare the victory of passion over purpose

i am still recalling the aroma
of breaths that become
a gale of hope
and joy that charges the spirit
to explore, uncharted territories
right in front of us, right around us, like the moments
we forget to touch

till yesterday he was darling of all eyes

brimming with hope and charging every heart

and then he fell

tripped by mistakes of those whom he trusted

he is still tryingto walk, and keep his head high

as always

and the tide will change

the winds have to remember

i have often asked myself

while looking at the full moon

why does it look so thoughtful, why dont i find

it smiling always

then i recall what you told me the other day

when we are away from each other

the time teases us,

the drop of dew are shy

of reflecting all the light they absorb

what do they do of the remaining light

they might have mixed it in the dew

so that memories become manure

and flowers remain in fresh bloom

longer, lighter, and last

till moon decides to take leave of its duties

and the lake is rebounding the songs you sang

while walking on green grass

like a shadow of moon in the early hours of the night

did i hang your photo on a broken wall
which was cracked by the load
of memories
that you had difficulty in bearing with
all this while
let me take it off and place
it in a trunk
which i will immerse in a river
on a full moon night so that when it sinks,
the waves will lift it up
and let it float for as long as
the time stays still

have you seen the glaciers melting

after the storms of silence have wiped clean

the face of mountains

that stood witness to the torment

that you had to face

for no fault of yours

i could not embalm the body that was bruised

but then rest you must get

peace too

even if it means

you have to do

all that you donot like

like tearing the pages from diary

in which you worte the verses

of a joy abandon

the storms will pass but not

the moments in streams

that flow down the slopes

having no regard for the  beams

on which rested the vila

you lived along with birds

nests  are not torn

but the tears of memories wronged

torment you no less

why not take leave

of the lazy lakes

that will remain still

even when the storms

pass

what a yearning, what a way
what a bridge
what a bond
no body will understand
it will end, moment you do
so let it remain like an unasked question
in the milky way, hazy, far, very far, but still with in a trail
path is known,
destination is not
time is not

—————–tagore on spring

One Day in Spring…

One day in spring, a woman came  In my lonely woods,
In the lovely form of the Beloved.
Came, to give to my songs, melodies,  To give to my dreams,
sweetness.  Suddenly a wild wave  Broke over my heart's
shores  And drowned all language.
To my lips no name came,
She stood beneath the tree, turned,
Glanced at my face, made sad with pain,
And with quick steps, came and sat by me.
Taking my hands in hers, she said:
'You do not know me, nor I you--
I wonder how this could be?'  I said:
'We two shall build, a bridge for ever  Between two beings,
each to the other unknown,  This eager wonder is at the
heart of things.'    The cry that is in my heart is
also the cry of her heart;  The thread with which she
binds me binds her too.  Her have I sought everywhere,
Her have I worshipped within me,  Hidden in that worship
she has sought me too.  Crossing the wide oceans,
she came to steal my heart.  She forgot to return,

having lost her own.
Her own charms play traitor to her,
She spreads her net, knowing not
Whether she will catch or be caught.
~Rabindranath Tagore

summer has swallowed the spring this year

every body shouted about the ice that melted much earlier

the fishes that went away from my shore

poems that remained uncomposed

paintings that are incomplete

hooks that have given way

all the photos of the past have fallen down

will you also stay still

or speak up

why have flowers in the desert

remained quiet

when bees have desrted them for moistened gardens

far away