Month: August 2007

i am like a snail, dried and malformed

but still attractive enough for a child to pick it up

and play with it

till it cracks

and he cries

comes along an affectionate
mother who consoles

him and tells him

she will find another snail

another malformed

one

another journey abandoned

so that the child can play

why not

well,
may be when i am unmasked,
the poems get better
i become dust
in your hairs
and you go for a wash
drained form there, i dry up and rise again
thsi time through a storm
and get into your eyes
more you rub these
more deeper i get embedded
do not let me go away
do not shed the tears

she mistook oscillations of the lamp
> to be the sign of spark
> and when she went closer
> found a burnt out flame, just some ash
> no wood, no fire
> embers had gone to sleep
> so that the fire flies will live
> for a day longer

have you heard what the investigators have found

a grave was left untended in the yard,

because the followers did not find a way of cleaning

they wrote down an epitaph,

‘leave the place in the hands of nature’

Now that I clean up the dried leaves and some cow webs

I find some traces of dried flowers

May be some one came long ago

And offered it on the grave

Why would some body come here?

What have I done for any one, will ask the spirit

But then people do not come

Only to pay back the debts

They may come

Because the one who lies buried, did not pay the debt

And by offering the flowers

They remind the world

Do not pay back certain debts

If you wish to be remembered

Do you remember?

I am no more the substance, but you still are the spirit

Why do we suffer alone

And celebrate together

Why is it that meanings are lost

And the contexts only matter

How is it that we fear the  Kaali so much

And yet when Deity  is in front,

For her forgiveness, we clamor

Why are we not sure ever

What is that which we seek now or after

Why is this vain hope of surrender?

Will incompleteness not survive this storm

Of uncertain streams and undecided norms

I know how does one placate the priest

Offer the flowers, kneel on ground and say

I am no more the substance, but you still are the spirit

You will have your way, no matter what the world would say

Aug 6, 2007

Why do we come closer

Only to ask for what one loves so much

Why should one not be here

For the moment, for just that moment

You asked, laughed and became a bit sad

I had failed you so often in this matter

What could you do, what could I do

The duties took a heavy toll

The covers of the night could not hide

The light of unburnt embers

Aug 6, 2007

Ek syahi se likha tha, dhumil ho gayi

Baarish me jaagi, saari raat

Aur subah phir so gayi

Thaki thi itni ki aankhey na khol paayi

Mainey khatataya dheeme se dwar,

lekin phir main laut aayi

koi kyun poochey, kitna samay beet gaya

kis kis ne toka tha,

phir kyun sawan ka gaya, geet naya

tum ab chup chap baitho

amaltas ke phoolo se sazi hui hai chaukhat

aam ke patton se, bandhi hui hai bandhanwar

ab to muhn kholo, kahar chala gaya

paalki ko khali hi paakar, wo chhala gaya

uske dukh ko mat atmsaat karo

merey paas aaao, mujhse thodi baat karo

aug 6, 2007

why should a cloud be so strained
in taking the help of a storm
let the drops of rains soak the silent trees
around  a grave yard
do not ask, why should the windows miss
the curtains behind whihc you once stood
do not ask why a traveler never minded
going back from your door
because you were bestowing your  grace on other devotees
O Kaali, you can not understand the pain
of those who have to pulverise the soil
in which one may have sown the choicest seeds
because the gardener wants different flowers
whose aroma will invite snakes
that will engulf the trees
that complain of loneliness

will the wait transform the meanings of the precipice

will the rocks give way

the slide down the hill

will round off some edges

let me dissolve into dust

that flies away

lest it rains and it settles down

here

from where it tried to escape for so many centuries

will the wait transform the meanings of the precipice

will the rocks give way

the slide down the hill

will round off some edges

ket me dissolve into dust

that flies away

lest it rains and it settles down

here

from where it tried to escape for so many centuries