anil gupta's blog

when we fail, and cant stand up to own it

we start  looking for a reason

in season and out of season

will you also let me find one

if i tried hard

but do not

please do not let met find one

i must pursue the journey regardless

of how many times

i fail

dont come back

i am afraid of the showers

that often accompany

when we least expect them

and all the clothes i dry outside

get wet

so many times, i have tried to dry teh towel

undr fan

so that when you wipe your hairs you do not complain

but then this year, it has rained a lot

the moisture  has saturated the air

dont ask, why i am still thirsty

do not ask the washerman,

why did he spread the clothes on the street wire

why should he let every one see the externals

of those whose inners are empty

naked

and perhaps denuded of desires

when hoped wither away

in the sand

you try to build castles

but this year it has not rained enough

the sand will not set

and the castle will break down

is that why, it di dnot rain

well this year

Why do we pray

Is it that when our faith

Becomes weaker

We resort to prayers

Lest our weaknesses

Echo amidst the high mountains

And lead to landslide

Let us not

Wait till the fallen rocks

Come in the way

Do not answer my prayers

If you so feel

But at least

Accept the meager offerings

That I have brought

Do not measure their value in the

Rays that sparkle,

For it will not,

Do not value these by the

Aroma

That may charge you and make you dance

On the head of the pin

That fell down

From the hairs of the fairy

Who you had sent

Other day

To persuade me to go back

No, nothing will

Really tell you the value

But then should

You really care for value now

 

I have done little for you

While walking   through the forest

Or the hills

Except gathering a few stones

From the river banks

Which might nourish your soul

Do you want to take these from me

As a token of gratitude

 for all the order you Put

 in the chaos

 And without asking much in return

 

There was a little pony

With a very big bell

Hanging around her neck

Resonating with her mood

And swinging in a Pasteur

Like a breeze

Which had lost its way

Not tamed by the seasons

Smiling and laughing often without reasons

Often would not accept the calls

Of the mender

But then she was beyond mending

 

Stop for while

You are walking very fast

Just pause

You do not know

How to walk in step

And then when you are left behind

You complain

Of your loneliness

When I will be not any more

Around to pamper the mood

Of the weird winds

Or crazy mountains

Or the streams with passion

In their belly

Not accepting the discipline of the banks

You will then realize

The subtle sounds of silence

That engulfs when a pyre is burnt almost fully

She is the star

Slowly fading in the sky

I am her shadow  in the lake

Placid and tranquil

But then you know

How can the shadow become longer,

deeper and

More serene

When I light a lamp

and float it in the lake

The lamp will not light

No mater how much oil

I put in it, till the wick is lighted

You are the wick of that lamp

Burning, slowing dying

Disappearing in the light

And elongating the shadow

Do you know

That’s the way it is

That’s the way it is

What can I pray for you

Just be there

Lighting the life

Of shadows

Which will remain dark

Long

And inaccessible

Do not ever hope to get closer to

The shadow

Its pain, only pain, distress

Of desolate length

That some times

Goes beyond the banks of the lake

 

But then star is still lighted and

I am trying to keep this light glowing

Feebly,

What a life

Neither able to nurture the light, nor

The shadow

And the lamp floats away, slowly

And slowly, Ah!