anil gupta's blog

with little berries
i lured the squirrels in my garden
did not mind when sparows came
why will i bother about
the intrusion by babblers

now that i have squandered all the bread
cat comes and asks her share
what can i give her
i have no bread
but then i have the spirit
and the will to give
will wait till
the crop matures
and i can make bread again

wonderful thought

may be time has wrought

a small idol

of peace

let it adorn your window

today

who knows when will it shine by

the rays of morning

unbound, unasked, and unsuspected

of singing

songs of delight

why is the light so delightful today

has sun given way

to its insistence

to shower glow without its fury of heat

or is it just the dew’s delusion

to survive in the lap of hopes

which are nourished by

meandering river

may be the stones have been wrought

as if the time has sought

leave of you , O Kalli today morning

please bless all

who pray to you, with palms big and small

fill their haert with compassion for those

whose mornings bear the plights

of deprived nights

on roadside

in slums

0r a widow’s clums

of dried grass

woven into a basket

to bring flowers to your temple

commitment is not easy, but concern is

the journey is tough

but the retreats are relaxing

why should revisiting be easier

and designing new paths  be so tough

is it the uncertainty which makes it complex or

the lack of readiness for surprise that takes it toll

 

let me ask myself, what would i love more

being taken for granted for what i was known to be

or given a chance to be inconsistent

for what i do not know at all

seeking solace in sun dried shadows

does not last for ever

listen my friend, look at the past

when imprints of your trust

had shrunken the path ahead

ship will sail again,

sails have rested still

on the faltering mast

when the mute friends

returned from dried pastures
the sun was about to set
but rose the dust in its gay abandon
as if to celebrate the sounds
of ringing bells
and impending meeting
of a pastoralist
with his waiting love full of sorrow
who knows whether or what
the flute will tell
tomorrow,

why should one hide

what is born out of truth and pride

the secrets one keeps

take away the peace one seeks

let the world know

how i bathed in the river of love,

sacrifice and trust

what have i given to those

for whom bearing with me

all the pains was not a choice

but a must

i have evolved through the rebirth

they gave me

i am now an image of their dreams

which they can not see

will u walk with me

and abosrb and assimlate
all the love that came my way

through  selfless friends who did not know

how to hate

do not grudge if some have lost

the ability to unburden the baggage

of their doubts and disbelief

i have to live

if only, because through me will unfold

the deep faith that destiny has

and will therefor  give,

us a chance to redefine the boundaries

of what is, will be and was,

when we hang the clothes on a  loose nail
hoping to find them there again
and the nail decides to give way
throwing all the garments on the ground
some wrinkled and some safely placed over the others
like memories which  put layers over others
till cyclone comes
and washes away all the sand
and the small dried starfishes, and the snail shells
lying uncared
but not uncollected
i will walk again and again, collect these like trophies
of time
that was there
when i did not know,
whether my collections will have to be auctioned
so as to forego
the punishment for remembering
my duties towards myself
an also my shadows