Category: poetry

will the autumn this year take away
the left over leaves from this old tree
till when will beetles hibernate
living below the bark, worn out at places
how will i stay still
when strong storms pass me by
O Kali! give me strength
to absorb all the silence

if we knew
what we dare not
will we still love
if we listened to every call
will we still dare

may the dust settle, before storms begins anew

who knows if it will rain at all

the heat has made the journey of dust

smoother

but then where will it settle

how do i know

my scarf is dusty

and so is my bag

but still there is some thing which is clean

is it because

it has  not been judged

and thus not tagged

or is it because

it has repelled

every spirit

and substance

dust included

when sins devour the desires
and the passion
does now own what it sires
you ask, as if it is enough
to live in this world
with all the dark deeds
casting their shadow
over the future steps
left to follow
Ma Kaali! i then surrender
to your wishes
and just aspire
whenever some blessings are left
in your basket
after showring them over all
your ardent devotees
you will empty those
over my path
lest i suffer
always from your contempt
and can not even hope
for a baptism by fire

rocks hold my secrets

river reveal my game plans

you cursed me no less

but why did not you ask the

dried leaves about what was the purpose

what was the destination

why did i love you all

why i did i nurture

in your eyes

my hopes and smiles

what will i take with me

when i actually die

will it not be these curses

will it be the ash left by the fire

you lighted in my storehouse

of memories

of all the struggles, and laughters in vain
and promises to change the world

just in our life time

just in case

mind, as if it matters

the mercy may be celebrated

they acknolwedged our feet

and chained our hands

to the hammers that break stones

for keeping us alive was a necessity

death destabilises

hunger mobilises

it gives hope

for those who rule

will some day find

difficult to cope

with their reasons, they have always tried
to justify menial over mental

as the only choice ahead

for do not we actually, think,

they just, do

and thats what we call

the paradox of persistence

with ideas, that  have driven

many to despair

but some will defy,

and cause ruptures

that will be difficult to repair

will u now stir

tea in your cup

lest the creamy layer

obstructs

the smooth sip

and spoils the joy

of an intellectual

whose monopoly over the mind

has for millenia

explained

why he prospered, got recognised,
when the subjects just, struggled

why do i keep awake,

when the world sleeps peacefully

what is the anxiety

what is the worry

whose pain is central to the being

and whose vulnerabilities are calling for change

in our ways of knowing, feeling and doing

has the mix gone wrong

or have i lost my way

a drop of rain fell in an ocean

unable to persuade any wave

to change its course

it just stayed still

and then slowly sun rose

and carried it away

from the swollen arms of the ocean

to the sky

why do u cry

when the garden of curses blooms

my friends do not know what i sowed

and what will i harvest now

but then soon, it will rain

and new growth of seeds

of smiles scattered all over

will flourish

may be the crevices of life

in which curses grew

may heal, by then