anil gupta's blog

my accountability is to you and you alone
when we walked in the rose garden
amidst high hills and cloudy sky
you never asked even once, why
i was lost or unable to see
what colour you wore
and where did the rays reflected from
diamonds in your earrings
go
but today, i remember all those missed moments
and will try to fill your lap
with a few flowers
i have plucked
from then garden
before they fall on the ground, half closed,
but also half open
but past their full bloom
like we are, are we

Imagine
Every chemistry lab seems to be different here
Same chemicals when mixed
Produce very different reactions
Why do they do so
Why do rules change
Even when
The materials remain same
How come clouds
Don’t rain when
We wish
But when
Sun is tired
Wind is still
They get tired of holding All the burden
In their wings
Till
An eagle flies past

Why do we elevate
Our sense of significance
To such a height
That all the necessities
Get suspended
And we absorb
The radiance
Of worn out
Diamond reflections

nov 4, 2012

a requiem of rainbow
a stale silence
a sullen scream
why will you ask
if this is what
we offer to the lake
that does not listen
the call of silence
sacrifice and stillness

The vapours absorb
All the aroma of the moist soil
But my intoxication
Is incomplete
Without
Your hesitation
And my impatience
Said the river

Valley of volition
Leaves you perplexed
Eager to embrace
The winds that are dry
Or swim in the lake
Of leaking desires
But splashes of smiles
Cause wrinkles on your forehead
You can not contain
The volcano of volition
Remain buried, o traveller alone
This breeze will find
Clouds willing to rain

why should birds not complain
when grains come their way
sprouted
but not always
only when we are done with them
they clean the leftovers
now that they are trying to clean
up
will we live on their leftover

scattered smiles, swallowed pride
why will the clouds scare, and stars hide

the mellowed music, meaningful breaths
spread the sunshine, dont hold unpaid debts

sleep and dont sigh, absorb aroma of yawny nights
dissolve the dried marks of tears, frame the silky sights

leaves, dried and pressed
may serve a purpose
they remain etched
on stony faces
of those
who can not let leaves leave
the abandoned lanes
of derelict houses
may be these leaves will
get life someday, somewhere
when clouds will be unhinged
from the winds

dont force me to drown
in the sea of serenity
dont ask me to delve into
the deep gorge of dark nights
dont ask me, if i am afraid,
for i am
dont ask me, if i am untrustworthy
for i am
dont ask me, if i can not walk longer
for i can not
but what i am not
is the stain on the window pan
half closed
and opaque

a boil which when ruptures
leaves a mark behind

turned corner of a page
of a book, which does not end when it should