anil gupta's blog

once again,
i crossed over the fence
but do i regret the crossover
not this time,
but still crossing leaves footprints
and then water gets filled in those prints
because it is raining
have to try to let the fence grow a bit more
crossing over may become a bit more difficult
will the gardner on the other side
let fence grow tall
or will he prune it
like ever before?
dont know,
but do i want to know

don’t trade the moments
 I tell myself
Just lie down 
Or stand still
Don’t renew the contract 
Of a tired tear 
And a guilty gaze,
Why would you 
Then steer clear of the bushes
Wanting to entangle you
Carelessly
Just like that
Without a purpose 
But a lot of passion, 
Is it to remind you
That there are seeds
Buried inside 
In a corner of grain bin
Wanting to sprout
Wanting to sprout
Don’t put out 
Don’t put out
The fire within 

A lot to do
But only if you don’t put me under deadlines 
I will decorate the settings
Of what I write 
But will I not  labour on the meanings 
Don’t abandon the island 
I plead 
But by then 
I have been promised cool
Breeze
Filtered by your hairs 
Soaked in silly reasons
Moody and meandering 
……………..

Why should the curtains 
Be wrinkled so much
Have I not opened the window
For long
Cobwebs remind me 
Of intimate  inertia 
The aroma of breaths
The tingles inside the mouth
The senselessness in the feet
And unwillingness to open the eyes 
But cobwebs are deceptive
They are not 
Filtering 
All the breeze
Which comes through another curtain
Torn
Threads holding on still
But hanging without a purpose
Don’t remind me
Of a promise to live in a moment
Good food
Books
Rains and the walk
I have surrendered my passport
I have been asked to leave the land
I m off to a milky way
Misty moist and meaningless 

does it matter, if reflections stay

what images they contain

and which ideas they sway?

whenever the boundaries have retained

the abstract of an essay

the meanings have escaped obscurity

the silence has absorbed serenity

when discipline is disguise,
desires a precipice,
the meanings are soluble,
efforts effervescent,
should we not pause……

thank you mother Kaali
u answered my prayer
there was no easy way
to swallow my pride
and accept my defeat
but now i have accepted it
i know that
only in the moments
of complete betrayal
can i ever imagine the
limits to which i can
evade the mirror

when a train passed by
the whiff of air
swept the hairs of a lady working
nearby collecting fallen coals
from the engine
her face got coloured while moving those hairs away
by hands black with soot
dont wipe such marks on my face too,
every time
i sweep
your hairs
i wonder
if i will leave some marks
behind

Dont fall
off the clifff
who knows
how many delicately balanced edges
of stones will fall with you
carrying the unblossomed dreams of the saplings on the way
and then tearing open
the sutures
by which you had sewn
the wombs of worried
mornings