dont be considerate, O Ma Kaali, dont; just be your ruthless self, one can deal with your ferocious contempt for any thing ordinary, its is your compassion which makes life difficult, one almost feels that he has been forgiven again for being less than what he could have been, dont be considerate, dont….
losing patience, but why…
whenever we lose patience, we are either unhappy with ourselves or with some one who has not understood what we want to say. either way it is our own handicap. after all, if every body understood each other well, will there be any scope for dialogue, poetry , art and culture, are not all these born out of desire of obfuscation?
why should yearning for comfort yield to guilt
why should yearning for comfort yield to guilt
why
why should relaxed nerves feel strained after a while
because they were touched
felt
explored and put at ease
why can not we just be
but is that an alibi
to say
i am not here any more
take me, o wind
somewhere away
far
faster
and beyond the land of feelings
when the placid leaves dont stir, Kaali ma, will u listen
when the placid leaves dont stir, Kaali ma,
will u listen
will you care to undress
my ego
which does not let me see though the
curtains of desires
i have put on all my windows
when will
you tear apart all the
rainbows i have woven in my eyes
so painstakingly
thinking that i belonged there
but i know my place,
now
at least now
can pathways be repaired
when a gardener is not happy
with the seeds he has sown
he can not tend them with care
last night, the smiles we borrowed from those
who could not have said no
because they trusted us,
or because they are vulnerable
or that they are more generous
but they let us walk on a path
that is not paved with serenity,
some integrity
now the gardener is also not happy
nor are the springs which irrigated his garden so long
can fences be mended
can pathways be repaired
can we start walking around the garden rather
then crossing it at will,
violating the sanctity and then leaving
the irresponsible footprints behind
unstringed, let them flow
argue
you can argue
again and again
that there is no truth
all that happens
is just a flow of moments
like a garland which was never made
all the beads
lie scattered
but then some of the beads
refuse to be lost
what do i do
collect them
make a string of beads
the moments
how ill i tie
them
no, i must leave them
unstringed
let them flow
away
far away
with no trace
left
of the sounds
touch
smell
but the words
the words
words that are
are they just words
but no, they carried the sounds
touch
smell
but the words
which ones, the ones i heard
or the ones you felt i did not hear
was i deaf
or just unable
to bear the burden of their truth
do i know
do i
intimacy
the engagement with intimacy
is like a sailing boat in the sea
facing tsunami
or river in spate,
it can turn every thing upside down.
But then it helps uncover those sides
of ourselves which we can not face otherwise,
decide! today, many are terrified of intimacy, why
sept 12
some angel would descend
Some angel would descend
Many times I have not lived
As much I wished
In a glass house
But then every now and then I lost my way
Some angel would descend to show me
Where to go
How to be a strenuous stickler for the hopes
That many nurtured through the oars
I sculpted out of wood
Of an old tree
Under which we had played once
Without any fears and doubts
Which now has turned into a boat
And oars
Now, either come on board, ride the waves
And surrender to the swings of streams
Or just sink
Swallow
And then quietly descend on the bed
Of a deep river
So that fishes could live,
And make the water clean
territory of treason
Territory of treason
We bury the lilies
That have dried
Now
Why not throw them away
But is it easy to throw the aroma so easy
The limitless splendour
Of falling stars
The flicker of fading aura
The murmur of dried leaves flowing
In the backyard
Colliding
Breaking
But still claiming some territory
Of treason
That time has played out
By not letting them be just dust