Author: anilg

misty morning
moist leaves
looking out of my window
i see wrinkled crease
on the curtain held covered
for long by the neighbour
but the sultry weather
still atmosphere
a braclet around the curtains
folded after all
why does mist prevent
me to see
the face
of a stranger
who will not be seen
when sun brightens the day

lifting the sand and silt

on the river bank

i was singing songs

to thank the river

for flowing steadily, slowly and keeping low

you were taking it on the road

to be carried far

to build houses of all those

who longed for these.

suddenly the river was angry

flow was fast and level high

all the sand we collected since morning

was washed away

you laughed as if it was just a castle of sand

but then of course

it was a castle of sand

\

asked a river
to the haughty mountains
how do you survive
the caresses of so many streams
flowing all the time,
but many more
when it rains,
how do you escape the sensations
that misty clouds cause
while rubbing your face in the night
and the day
how do you hear the seducing sounds
of the birds and remain unmoved
what shall i say, said the mountain
do not you see different peaks
some taller then the rest
but to reach many
one has to start
always at the base
there are no bridges
between the peaks
i donot know
but whenever i feel
i move with the streams
avlanches follow
and thunder of the cloud bursts
and burried homes of the ants
then make me realize
so many have relied
on my immoblity
let me stay and stare
the passing streams and the beautiful sounds
even if they leave scars and some deep wounds

Will u recall

Why the rivers take a toll

Banks do not protest

The swollen eye

Insipid silence

Why should one still try

He was stubborn like a reed

Wind was fierce

You have wandered all over

Not knowing why

The address has been deleted

Wrinkles on the sly

Moist clouds in the armpit

Every time you wish to abandon

The road is bright

The cervices bemoan the light

Have you seen the sighs

Floating over the waves

Salty taste, dried marks

Go and celebrate

Have a nice day

Queer are His ways

If the train was not leaving

Why will you bend down

Emptiness has enjoined

We are still at it

Did you try to ask

It  was trusted  a path

But the flowers do not grow in the middle

Jelly was on the shelf

Dried snakegourd was served

Why will pot have a hole

When I tried to close the door

You yelled at the doorman

The rent can not now be paid

For your mustard muffler

I am a hook

Else a rusted nail

When doors were ajar

You did not come in

You cried in pain

There was not much to gain

Balm is cold

I had tried in vain

Like hairs on mane

Of a bolted horse

ashankaye kyun hai man mein

swapno ko laga grahan

toot gaya ek aalingan

sneha bhara jo amantran tha
beh gaya kahin, nahin raha wo apnapan

aisey me karo sankalp

tan ko tap, man ko shradha,

mit jayey man ke bheetar hai to tam

utho, kaho, kya hona hai,

samay de raha awahan

manjil door nahin thi phir kyun

socha ab kar ley thoda wishram

taron ki god mein dhunda, jeevan ka thoda aaram

keh do, sab hai mithya,

sach hai, bas ek hi kaam

jeevan de do unki sewa mein

jo abhi nahi pahunchey apney mukam

not eASY TO BE GOOD ALL THE TIME

not easy to be cool all the time

not easy to be smooth all the time

not easy to be vigilant all the time

why not fail once in a while

why not  trail once in a while

why not have a heart for strangers some time

why not heave a sigh some  times

why not just be some times

when the journeys do not end

and the unspoken words  become the bridges

why do we complain

when the evening are a bit sullen

the life demands its toll tax

and more we explore, more gates we pass through

more tax we must pay

should not we

why would we regret the boulders on the way,

who knows when would l they hold some flood

or a truck whose breaks have failed

why should not every time

you turn your face away

i must imagine that you had tonnes of smiles

which you could  not contain

but were afraid to unload in my courtyard

i am lighter now

few  wrinkles in my kurta, that were there,

have declared

he restless nights that i have  spent

in wishing for a bell to ring

and the curtains to come down

on the play

that has no charactrs, but

which is kept on stage because audience

find it easy to stay, dispel the notion

that audiences can be created,

actors will rest now

rainbow has tilted after all

u climbed it from one end

and i got down from the other

why should we wait for sun to dry the tears

would not wiping these make sense

but then who has the kerchief

big enough to soak all the tears

why will we create a dam to store these

will the  streams not be able to contain all the dust

which rose when caravans  passed away

without pausing even for a minute

to see how the marks of their wheels

had distracted streams from their course