anil gupta's blog

what do colours mean really
a moment of joy
a bench spread on a lonely beach
a shadow which no more comforts
or a ripple that reflects a sun which is setting slowly

sprockets of silences
have worn out
the smiles have been sown again
spring is not too far
will we let the earthworms pulverize the soil
will the fire remain smoldering in the hearth of
benign lakes of eloquent
expression of prayers

Beeps of sound
A broken mound
Lost the way
Don’t please hound
Said the squirrel
Smiling and peaceful
Full of hope and energy
Derived from denuded hills
Planted with bushes and trees
Burnt house
An avalanche unannounced
Just be there
Don’t stand and stare
Absorb the kindness
Release the radiation
From the kernel
Of a fallen fruit
Lest squirrel will claim
What it only can save
For regenerating the forest
After it succumbs to fire

It’s true that I asked
Why should not I
When we know the limits
Are reached
We can give up
We can try
We can ask
I asked
Why should not I

Don’t strain
Let the tea leaves float in the cup
I don’t mind
A few leaves
But a clear tea
Is an illusion
I can do without

Loosened nuts
Bolted blues
The smiles are switched
The sadness has sublimated
Why are you silent
Why suffer alone
Why let old pains revive
Why seek solace in silences buried
Under
multitude of layers
Of skin
Just have a renewal of seasons
Tantrik Rituals
Will seal the cracks in the
Clouds of careless
Caresses
Created by the vapours
From the hot soup
I made for you
Here
There
Somewhere

Don’t lock me out
Said the spirit
Of a greenish blue bird
Sitting on a branch of a dry tree
But how could I
How could I
Gates of scattered songlines
Need a piano
Dancing steps
Bubbling smiles
None of which need a reason
And yet occupied as I am in the struggles
Of a life
Dissolved in a soup of
Fresh asparagus
Do you want to eat these
Without a spoon
And a fork
Fingers soaked in jelly of hopes
Oozed joyful cream
Of a careless farm
Mature crops
Or just tell me
Why standing at the gate of the farm
I should watch birds fly
And pray that my devotion
To the pursuit of a purposeful
Journey
Will be fulfilled
Without losing the joy of.
Sitting on a bench
In a solitary corner
Of a forlorn street
Of a forbidden city
In the company of a sound
A touch
A smell
An abandoned air
Forget the rules
Create a sanctuary
So that wild dear
Can roam free
And elephants will not worry
About the deep footsteps
In which will grow a grass
That I need to weave a
Small mattress for you
To take with you
When you grow old
And have to keep your feet dry
On a wet ground

Want to cry
In your arms
Said the little boy
To an old grandmother
Wondered the boy
Why he needed that embrace
Of abandoned joy
In a safety of sunshine
Moon rays
With no need to
Reflect on the pools of brine
In a salt workers farm
Windmills of hopes
Will run for you
So to ramps of approval
Of strong winds are
There
You dont care
You do
I know you do
But first write your script
And get your passport
To enter the world
Of wise fools