anil gupta's blog

Did I play ever
With the spirit
Of a rainbow
Even if I had a drought for long
In my island
Accusing me of playing,
The river broke its banks
And flooded the barren fields
But now the banks will be rebuilt
The sandbags have been ordered
And the factory is working overtime
No play
No spate
Focus on the flow
Pure and sublime
At least few cacti in the
Garden may flower
Only when deprived of water
Feb 28 , 2013

wash your hands, Maa Kali
soiled with digging my grave
in a lake of my tears
who knows the stains might go away

never once should you suspect
my devotion was inadequate
even if i was
i have not damned my tears
so they will flow
but the lake is still drying
may be the cracks in the ground
have taken a toll
of my impermeable resolve
i am not able to
hold
my restraint some times
forgive me, Maa kaali
and give me a reprieve
i need to now evaporate
and with whiff of a air
stir your hairs

unwillingness to hear, you are a brute rock
why do you deceive yourself
why have you squeezed the spongy self of yourself
so hard
why have you lost the willingness to
dissolve in the desire
of a damp
dark corner
to let bats nest there,

why should clouds beware
why
has sky decided to drop
too many stars from its lap tonight
has a river forgotten to break some banks tonight
why has not flood overtaken yet a small atoll
have the waves decided to nest
atop a dry tree
why complain then
why expect green shade
under a tree which
has not sprouted fresh leaves for long

swim against the current
spawn your dreams in estuaries
about to dry
may be thats why
like an icarus
you fly too close to the sun
dont complain
get used to melting your wings

why should yearning for comfort yield to guilt
why
why should relaxed nerves feel strained after a while
because they were touched
felt
explored and put at ease
why can not we just be
but is that an alibi
to say
i am not here any more
take me, o wind
somewhere away
far
faster
and beyond the land of feelings

when the placid leaves dont stir, Kaali ma,
will u listen
will you care to undress
my ego
which does not let me see though the
curtains of desires
i have put on all my windows
when will
you tear apart all the
rainbows i have woven in my eyes
so painstakingly
thinking that i belonged there
but i know my place,
now
at least now

when a gardener is not happy
with the seeds he has sown
he can not tend them with care
last night, the smiles we borrowed from those
who could not have said no
because they trusted us,
or because they are vulnerable
or that they are more generous
but they let us walk on a path
that is not paved with serenity,
some integrity

now the gardener is also not happy
nor are the springs which irrigated his garden so long
can fences be mended
can pathways be repaired
can we start walking around the garden rather
then crossing it at will,
violating the sanctity and then leaving
the irresponsible footprints behind

argue
you can argue
again and again
that there is no truth
all that happens
is just a flow of moments
like a garland which was never made
all the beads
lie scattered
but then some of the beads
refuse to be lost
what do i do
collect them
make a string of beads
the moments
how ill i tie
them
no, i must leave them
unstringed
let them flow
away
far away
with no trace
left
of the sounds
touch
smell