anil gupta's blog

Is it time to liberate
All the memories
From the prison of authentic inmates
No body gets jilted here
Without his consent
Crimes that bring people here
Are committed not in the world
Outside
But inside
No police
No courts
Just the decision
Of a person
To get imprisoned
Behind tall walls of memories

Emperor was pleased
Queen was dancing
Whites were the colour of the season
No stains
No chains
No complaints
The designs of dancing queen
Were intriguing
She did t know her mind either
But when forced to admit
Smiles got scattered
In all directions
Like a small cracker explosion
Let us celebrate the
Sound
Light
Feel and the frown

Morning
Light
Sparrow’s delight
Don’t dance so much
You may sprain your legs
But then
The moments which u want to celebrate will
Be lost
Sustain the spirit
Nothing much is lost
Nothing much really

Once I was hit hard
For having failed to come up
To your expectation
Today
I don’t regret that
Some times failure is necessary
To realise why
We can’t be left to ourselves
Otherwise

Running fast through the maze of
Meaningless stumps of cut trees
I saw a creeper
Fallen on the ground
May be it adorned the branch of a tree
Before it was cut
But how does that matter
The soundproof walls
The non reflective roof
Nothing can stop
The call to reach
The ears
Which are willing to listen
But for the rest
It doesn’t matter
Any way

Forgot my bag today
While crossing the security
Tomorrow I might forget the gifts
While leaving things behind
I m feeling lighter
Will I leave the driver
And the vehicle
The body
Too

why do you need blanket
when all around there is a warmth of the fire
lit since the volcano had overflowed
the molten lava has settled along the path
on which we were to walk
now either we burn our feet
or walk elsewhere
but i still offer blanket
silly of me
really?
blessings are bestowed
even when ash
rises
and eyes can not see clearly
blessings matter,
blanket of blessings matter even more

will the meanings still retain their density
will the rain drops
still wash the stains
of forgotten footprints

wish the storms knock
the doors ajar
little opening is retained
same way
as refracted rays dance
through cracks in thatched roofs
of a beggar on a shore
with no givers
but a lot of gifts
washed ashore

filtered light asked the tree
what will i get in return of the
glow on your leaves
tree smiled
and said,
will not honest reflections make you happy?