May be the volcano
Was waiting To swallow
Pride of a mountain
And did it care,
If in the ash sputtered in the sky
There were claims
Of a lake
Showing
How much did it care
Like the feet of clay
Of a saint
Everything was demolished
All the lamps offered in the temple
Of the revered lake
Had been thrown away
Thrashed
In a minute
The mountain was defeated 
What happened
Waited at the door, o Ma kaali
Unconditional
Prism of patience
Bow is about to be broken
Misread eyes
Sprout of a smile
I have relinquished the responsibility
I had taken
To tend your garden
You can appoint a new gardener
While leaving the charge
I have sown the seeds of smiles
They will sprout soon
Butterflies will crowd the garden
You will laugh as always
And scatter all the carefree
Drops of dew
So what if there will be only a few
Flowers less
Grow
Share
Connect
With the confusion
That accompanies the monsoon
And be clear
Resolve the knots
That had tied you to the edge
Liberate and leave
Enjoy
spring is around
a prayer

may this pot of water
quench the thirst
of all travellers
who pass by this road
alone or together
with their friends
but if somebody tries
to break the pot
stir it to precipitate all the dust settled
at its bottom
may wisdom
dawn on him
after all,
my pot was stirred likewsie
one day
on this road,
and dust has not settled yet










