anil gupta's blog

the words
words that are
are they just words
but no, they carried the sounds
touch
smell
but the words
which ones, the ones i heard
or the ones you felt i did not hear
was i deaf
or just unable
to bear the burden of their truth
do i know
do i

Some angel would descend

Many times I have not lived
As much I wished
In a glass house
But then every now and then I lost my way
Some angel would descend to show me
Where to go
How to be a strenuous stickler for the hopes
That many nurtured through the oars
I sculpted out of wood
Of an old tree
Under which we had played once
Without any fears and doubts
Which now has turned into a boat
And oars
Now, either come on board, ride the waves
And surrender to the swings of streams
Or just sink
Swallow
And then quietly descend on the bed
Of a deep river
So that fishes could live,
And make the water clean

Territory of treason

We bury the lilies
That have dried
Now
Why not throw them away
But is it easy to throw the aroma so easy
The limitless splendour
Of falling stars
The flicker of fading aura
The murmur of dried leaves flowing
In the backyard
Colliding
Breaking
But still claiming some territory
Of treason
That time has played out
By not letting them be just dust

Why should love lead to tolerance

Whenever you forgive me
You actually give me a new leash
New covers between which
I could write another book
But my story does not change too much
Does it
And you still like to read it
Because you love me
Why should love lead to tolerance
Of indiscretions
Is it because it can only liberate
And not languish
But why should moulting not lead the insect
To be born again
After all
Can we not soak in rain when it does
And dry the eyelids
Wet by tears of remorse
But why should moment of bliss be
Just a regret
No celebrate
The truth deserves to be celebrated
The truth of the moment
Without any memory or
Future ahead
Let us make choices
Of living with the traces
Along the path
Ants will now crawl
To build a new nest

Song of sadness
Don’t ask me
Why do I write a song of sadness every day
When there is so much joy and hope around me all the way
How do I tell her
That like an imprisoned convict
Waiting to be hanged.
Every day that passed
Brought gallows closer
He did not fear the death
But he could not deny the
warmth of Proximity that he loved
what is more sad
waiting for the end
or fearing the beginning??

Live again, breathe again

Shadows were unreal
Hesitation was real
But the flickeruing lamp
Did not confess
His need for disarming
Was urgent
Why do robes cover
What is visible
Doubts do the rest

Let dilemmas
Dissolve my soul
Let illusions
Be the scarf
With which you warm your self
In this wintery night
But then came a strong breeze
Scarf blew away
The rain dissolved all the dilemma
No nothing was to be said
All left was a semi colon,
Stopping every time for a while
Before the river resumed
Its coercive drive against the rocks
On the way
Now, what,
Silent tears
No regrets
Just a rejoice
Live again, breathe again
Get on with the life
I will erase
All the marks
Of wasted ( really) tears,
If you say so
Do you?
in the abyss of nothingness

Why do snatch me from the throngs of a pain
And then throw again
In the abyss of nothingness
Why do you have to do it, asked
The butterfly
Beautiful, colourful
Young butterfly
But the cactus did not know
How to tell that every time
It flowers
Its life is constricted
It did not want
To imprint the sadness on the
Wings of the butterfly
She had a long way to go
And the bliss of all the embraces
Was not too long ago
The sea saw of life
Will turn the light some day
And switch off the other day
In the play of shadows and
Lighted walls
He decided,
He needed to run away
From the garden
Lest the butterfly complains about the cactus
Who was actually the one, gardener
Loved the most
–

Feb 5, 2013-02-05
And a fallen feather

A moment
A trail
And a fallen feather
Don’t recount all the stolen dreams
That fell on the way
Don’t try to capture
The glitter in my eyes
When I lose the restraints
That
My station in life imposes
Let me just give up
The pretence
—
—
Let me just be
The sound of a fallen
Cap of a bottle
With which I
Played for hours
When I was a child,

The sound of half filled
Glass that I tapped
With a bent spoon
For a long stretches of time
Unhinged moments
Uncared laughters
Embraces without guilt
Kisses without curses

Live again, breathe again

Shadows were unreal
Hesitation was real
But the flickeruing lamp
Did not confess
His need for disarming
Was urgent
Why do robes cover
What is visible
Doubts do the rest

Let dilemmas
Dissolve my soul
Let illusions
Be the scarf
With which you warm your self
In this wintery night
But then came a strong breeze
Scarf blew away
The rain dissolved all the dilemma
No nothing was to be said
All left was a semi colon,
Stopping every time for a while
Before the river resumed
Its coercive drive against the rocks
On the way
Now, what,
Silent tears
No regrets
Just a rejoice
Live again, breathe again
Get on with the life
I will erase
All the marks
Of wasted ( really) tears,
If you say so
Do you?
in the abyss of nothingness

Why do snatch me from the throngs of a pain
And then throw again
In the abyss of nothingness
Why do you have to do it, asked
The butterfly
Beautiful, colourful
Young butterfly
But the cactus did not know
How to tell that every time
It flowers
Its life is constricted
It did not want
To imprint the sadness on the
Wings of the butterfly
She had a long way to go
And the bliss of all the embraces
Was not too long ago
The sea saw of life
Will turn the light some day
And switch off the other day
In the play of shadows and
Lighted walls
He decided,
He needed to run away
From the garden
Lest the butterfly complains about the cactus
Who was actually the one, gardener
Loved the most
–

Don’t corrupt the corridors
Through which my dreams escape sometimes
To collect the vapour of the unwed tears
Be the Equanimity Incarnate
Be the sparkle in the early morning dew
Just leave the rest
As breeze goes away
After stirring the branches, leaves and the tendrils
On the backyard of a barren churn
On the top of an eroded hill

Why do we locate traces of amber
In the ashes of our undeserved desires
Why should devotion to a deity of Sacrifice
Be an offence in the court of conscience
Why should I have to defend
The right to be meek and fragile
Surrender then becomes a armour of silence
And voice the ripple of a reflection
In the lake of resigned tears