why do i feel lost
whenever i find a way
out of darkness into a world of
sunshine,
paths lined with flowers
air filled with aroma,
flowers overflowing
like a mother’s breasts
yearning to feed a new born,
Mother Kaali, you come in my life
in so many different ways
and test my devotion
why could i not win your trust
for so long
is that the reason who pave my way
with the sound of tingling bells
tied around around the sheep necks
in meadowsa round a meandering river
Close your palms
You have given every thing
Except the pain
And I have not given any thing
Except
My pain
And even that not fully,
I m stingy
You are generous
but still you wish to give more
Can I not implore
Can I not coerce you
Can I not assure
That every time
You give,
I will stint
And thus add to your pain
Pl don’t open your palms
Close them
Live in the sunrise
Don’t come under the shadow
Of this canopy
Said a greyish tree
You may get wet
Branches don’t have enough leaves to
Protect you
Why don’t you look for a tree with
A dense foliage
But you will not understand
That new leaves are unlikely to come
It’s time for sunset
You must live in the sunrise
But belief in the contrary is unwise
thats the way river loves the island
stones rolled over
a slope
some became pebbles
some got stuck in the shrubs
i fell in a river
swept by careless waves on to an island
about to be marooned
that is the way
river loves the islands
in the sea, rough and uneasy
dont squeeze
the clouds more
it might rain tonight
the roof is torn
and there is no oil in the lamp,
in the darkness
i will still see the glowing eyes
as if they like a lighthouse
will navigate my boat
in the sea, rough and uneasy
but will i keep my moorings
when the compass is tuned so wrong
flooded, i sank
seeking forgivance, i sat under a tree
on the bank of a river
carrying all the fallen leaves,
but unwilling to fully pulverise a rock
she seemed hesitant,
i sat on that rock
and the river was in spate
flooded, i sank
but the river was still flowing
Shower of seeds
Shower of seeds
have sprouted already,
May spawn a thick deep forest
Embracing a river that flows through it
But who knows
A meteorite fall
Creates a crater in the way of the river
Inspiring it to be a lake
But till when?
Will it not overflow?
And then
River will carry all the leaves
Twigs and the pulverised stones
Don’t ask
Why I still can not leave the forest
Imbued as it is
With aroma of breaths that life running through it
Takes all the time
rainbow in your eyes
why did you stretch the strings so much
i know your yearning for deep music
you would have wished me to dance
like autumn leaves
but the colours of these leaves
are woven in the rainbow
in your eyes
dont close them
let me just look
for the fishes of fear swimming
in the lake of your eyes
i am waiting to catch them
and offer them to birds which will not let
spawn of those fishes ever
be seeded again in your lake
just be there,
just be there, the rainbow has assured
me that you will be there
why did you say, it was alright
why did you say, it was alright
it was not
your sleeping late
and my keeping awake
hoping that the stars will synchronise the clocks
was not a hope
worth preserving
but then u asked me, to sleep
and i still kept awake
the debts are so heavy
deeds so few
how do i settle claims of my own memories
on the dark morning dew
mistaking a lamp post for a lighthouse
i know u will come round
to understand the pitfall on the road
we are walking,
is it easy not to be misled
mistaking a lamp post for a lighthouse
fragility
is not on account of frugality
in sharing
the corners of one’s inner corridors
it lies in not being able to build
a stronger bridge to let you
pass over
for a longer journey, safer journey,
but then
no body has made breakthroughs
by reading maps of mind
or losing the keys
without having to find
you may walk, but dont sneer
climb all the ropes
hanging from the roof not so near
i will still be found wanting
and inadequate, for your hopes
will you engulf the edgy shadows
may be when you embrace me,
with thorns and worts around
the aroma of freshly grazed grass
will evaporate all memories in the meadows
the moments which have no past or future either
are the real stopovers for a wanderer
else the pain of the purpose not met
can erode the banks of the river
flowing with love, unhinged from the glacier