anil gupta's blog

when the swirling river decided
to take a turn less
and flow
towards the hill
i realized
the time to wake up
the tide had turned
why be reminded
that tide had turned

jis aam ke ped ke neechey kabhi kheley they

us se aaj aam girey

bahut girey, aandhi tej thi

aaam ke taney tanik najuk they

lekein  main unhey utha nahin paya

jaise hi kadam badayey

laga unki seemon ke par ug aayey

wo badti gayi

main simatata gaya

ab dosti ke din yaad kar raha hun

tumhari shakhaon par kab baur aayey

iski prateeksha mein pal pal gin raha hun

why do we deflect the rays
from the surface of our soul
as if we are impermeable
let the light pass through
all that we hold inside
so that it cuts through the maze of illusions
we do not have to hold any thing
inside
which can not be shared outside

did i scatter the stones just like that
i had piled them
for so long from the path that you walked on
lest they lead you to fall
and hurt yourself
but then my right to collect even the stones
from your path
has been taken away form me today
am i lighter
one task less to do
but one burden more to bear

has the time to call truce come,

asked the fire

in the heart of a forest

when winds were blowing fast

and fire was spreading far

the lake could  not keep quiet

she asked the forset, as to why did it fear the fire now

why had it grown so dense

why did it love intimacy so much

should not it pay the price

but then suddenly wind stopped

fire was extinguished

it rained

rained heavily

the tears of untired sky

whose heart was filled with remorse

of resigned aloofness,

could not be contained

why will there be truce now

when a small advice becomes a bone of contention

when the shopkeepr does not ask the price

of old books he  offers to purchae

he weighs them in a balance

why are thoughts weighed

and things counted

what happened to the calculus of consent

you gave when you agreed to listen

and asked that i speak

that is all you could hear

ah!

tired of tears that refuse to flow

out of the crucibles

crafted out of the core of my being

what are they afraid of

will my weakness be exposed

will these drops reflect some rays

that were supposed to be absorbed by you

when you suspected these tears

but you turned away

absorptions needs

space

but you are so full

may be thats whyu

my tears donot empty the crucible

lest they overflow

A child on the sea shore

had collected good lot of beautiful stones

Some sea shells and some conks

I wanted to trade a few

And did not know what to offer

In exchange,

So I asked, will she give me the red one

She said what will I offer

I asked her choice

And she asked my spectacles

But why,

did not she know

She had beautiful eyes

And I had weak eyes,

Why will she need spectacles

But then I understood, she wanted the look

Of spectacles

I asked he, if she wanted to look older

Than her age,

She smiled, may be, is wisdom a sign of age

I wish I could tell her, it is not

We went to an optician

Requested for her  plain glasses,

And by then I thought

she would have forgotten about the red stone

but she had not

only that she offered all her stones now

and I had enjoyed so much her questions

Cynical comments and

the women like jumbled up relationships

between things,

unrelated things connected in ways

I was not used to,

I did not want trade to symbolize our exchange

But she would not have any of my emotional crap

One could give things

Yes, gift her things only at her terms

And I had to take the red stone

But also the beautiful green stone, shells

And the rest

Why had every thing become so reasonable

Why had glasses look so good to her

Had I already taken away her innocence

By teaching her trade