anil gupta's blog

Learning to live alone
Is not what I came here for
Said the pilgrim to the stone
After it was dark
And stones were awaiting
To hear the tale
But then dew had already delivered
It’s shower of love
The failure of the pilgrim
To ever been able to
Stand in
For the iron pillar
Remnant of 2000 years
Of testimony
Of peace and non violence
But the pilgrim has not finished his journey
He will create a new religion
A new world
Where dew will not remind
The devotees of rules set
From outside
Where purpose will not be driven
By one’s personal ambitions
But by the memories
Of those tears which remain undried
Still
Yes, you will
Yes I will
Yes we will
Someday
Somehow
If the pilgrim stays on course
And your prayers leave him unsettled
For Ever

Trembling signs
Unstable gate
Unsettled sights
And the unlimited waves
Pounding shores with Knocks
Reminders of the gates still closed
Of the castle
Built atop a small mountain
The green boundaries
Lakes in between
Collecting all the drained water
Washing the steps,

I wanted to take to the
castle
But no more now
Washed of stains of struggles
What will steps tell me
Let me stay here
Just watch
Just see
And close my eyes
For now

Dreams layered with ideas
Memories cemented with
Crusts
Of half baked
Half burnt bread
Like a loaf of life
Some times fed to birds ordinary
And sometimes to eagle
Who does not spare
Not ignore
Just like the echo
Of a song
Sung alone in a mountain
Laden with molten glaciers

window pan is moist still
though sunlight is beaming
through
to the inner dark core
filtered by curtains of conscience
that creeps its questions
every now and then
now time has come to
cement the cracks in the wall
lest they replace windows and
then no filter
comes in the way
of light
or for that matter
moist waves

the willow is not yet dry enough
you can try to season it
dry it with all the fire you have in your heart
but then it may crack
dont insist
on making a bench
with this wood
who knows
termites may devour it before
you will get time to sit on it
and see the sunset
or sun may change its direction
or may be the sitting is not fun any more

a fellow who falters too much
forgets to read what he should
does not visit the temples
forgets to stay still
when the wind is blowing
rather indifferently
can not breathe deeply
nor can inhale all the aroma
in the garden
of lillies
permitted to bloom
even when there is dorught all around
has now been sitting
at your steps
o Maa Kaali
just let him be

have been grounded too long,
tied to the tethers of tranquillity
let me wade through turbulent columns
of queer waves
who knows, the abrasions will get me
rid of all pretensions
possessed so fondly
so long

wornout pending work list
is a good package for pop corns

just that pop corn get moistened a bit
because unmet deadlines cry too much

weathered by the time
memories may sprout
let us give them a happy burial
let us celebrate
who knows when do we
find a new rainbow
hanging on widow sill

every time, withering rocks promise
storms dont care
winds whisper
punctured armour
patient precipice,
hold the sliding glaciers
the exposed mountain
pains the roots of every shrub exposed
why let pain prosper