anil gupta's blog

White season
Hasn’t yet been over
Yet a storm is all set to roll in
Don’t rejoice in my dilemma
Whether storm will embrace the stillness
Or the season will turn red

White rose
Has no less thorns than the
Black one or even red one
Then why do we assume that
Some colours can lessen the pain
May be the memories
Of the moments spent
Under the trees
That had flowers of that colour do the trick
But now that tree
Under which
You played carefree
Is no more
How do I comfort you then

What else could I gift you
An envelop of authentic playfulness
Do what you please
Without bearing the burden of
Putting different addresses on the envelops
Go
Walk
Travel
Dance in the desert
You deserve it
All of it
Now

It’s not true, I said
It is true, he asserted
I argued and asserted and shouted and then
Like a ballon punctured
Became quiet
Now
His assertions
Demonstrate that
My negative capability has gone up
But I only dread when things are too clear
Have lost the capability to face precision

Positive capability
Has been lost in the process,
Ah!

Is it time to liberate
All the memories
From the prison of authentic inmates
No body gets jilted here
Without his consent
Crimes that bring people here
Are committed not in the world
Outside
But inside
No police
No courts
Just the decision
Of a person
To get imprisoned
Behind tall walls of memories

Emperor was pleased
Queen was dancing
Whites were the colour of the season
No stains
No chains
No complaints
The designs of dancing queen
Were intriguing
She did t know her mind either
But when forced to admit
Smiles got scattered
In all directions
Like a small cracker explosion
Let us celebrate the
Sound
Light
Feel and the frown

Morning
Light
Sparrow’s delight
Don’t dance so much
You may sprain your legs
But then
The moments which u want to celebrate will
Be lost
Sustain the spirit
Nothing much is lost
Nothing much really

Once I was hit hard
For having failed to come up
To your expectation
Today
I don’t regret that
Some times failure is necessary
To realise why
We can’t be left to ourselves
Otherwise

Running fast through the maze of
Meaningless stumps of cut trees
I saw a creeper
Fallen on the ground
May be it adorned the branch of a tree
Before it was cut
But how does that matter
The soundproof walls
The non reflective roof
Nothing can stop
The call to reach
The ears
Which are willing to listen
But for the rest
It doesn’t matter
Any way

Forgot my bag today
While crossing the security
Tomorrow I might forget the gifts
While leaving things behind
I m feeling lighter
Will I leave the driver
And the vehicle
The body
Too