anil gupta's blog

when a small advice becomes a bone of contention

when the shopkeepr does not ask the price

of old books he  offers to purchae

he weighs them in a balance

why are thoughts weighed

and things counted

what happened to the calculus of consent

you gave when you agreed to listen

and asked that i speak

that is all you could hear

ah!

tired of tears that refuse to flow

out of the crucibles

crafted out of the core of my being

what are they afraid of

will my weakness be exposed

will these drops reflect some rays

that were supposed to be absorbed by you

when you suspected these tears

but you turned away

absorptions needs

space

but you are so full

may be thats whyu

my tears donot empty the crucible

lest they overflow

A child on the sea shore

had collected good lot of beautiful stones

Some sea shells and some conks

I wanted to trade a few

And did not know what to offer

In exchange,

So I asked, will she give me the red one

She said what will I offer

I asked her choice

And she asked my spectacles

But why,

did not she know

She had beautiful eyes

And I had weak eyes,

Why will she need spectacles

But then I understood, she wanted the look

Of spectacles

I asked he, if she wanted to look older

Than her age,

She smiled, may be, is wisdom a sign of age

I wish I could tell her, it is not

We went to an optician

Requested for her  plain glasses,

And by then I thought

she would have forgotten about the red stone

but she had not

only that she offered all her stones now

and I had enjoyed so much her questions

Cynical comments and

the women like jumbled up relationships

between things,

unrelated things connected in ways

I was not used to,

I did not want trade to symbolize our exchange

But she would not have any of my emotional crap

One could give things

Yes, gift her things only at her terms

And I had to take the red stone

But also the beautiful green stone, shells

And the rest

Why had every thing become so reasonable

Why had glasses look so good to her

Had I already taken away her innocence

By teaching her trade

 

 

A calculus of concessions

 

Why do you try so hard

To be good to me

I like you the way you are

Be just as you  are

Nasty and petty but truthful

Will you make concessions

Do not please

Every concession displaces

The consideration w eplace on things we value

Why do we need concessions

But will I survive if all those who love me

Make concessions

And make me indifferent

To the rules I do not follow

Why do not we build  a road

On which only those people walk

Who have never broken a rule

 

have i broken a promise

can i break any at all

why would i do it

i can hold my head high

when i love, live and learn

when i share myself, my life,  my ideals

with all those who will walk with me

to reach a goal

unmet

unreached yet bit will it reamain unreached for ever

no, nothing will ever prevent me from being there

where we must be

but have not courage to be

Meet me on an abandoned island

Devoid of sails in a boat

Not sure whether winds have any control over her

Not letting waves get better of her either

Who has tamed such a boat

Will you come to island then

But how

Will a giant eagle lift you in her beak

And drop you here

Where I reached some how,

On a stormy night

When the guards were down

 

He took leave of His reason

And let the winds blow upside down

Not in w hirlpool nor in a swirling spiral

Lifting every thing up above the sky

It just let things be

Where they wanted to be

For a night

I am here

Will you too take leave of reason

And come

Here

 

 

 

 

why did termites find

the beam of the bridge so nice

to take shelter in,

has the forest planted on the riverside

dried up

or the termites have become bolder

or the bridge has lost the purpose of its existence

your pain is but a reflection of my diluted devotion

do not ask me the same questions

i have no new answers

you have seen all the layers

which have covered the unfolding streams

why then declare a drought

by withdrawing the drops of dew from the sky

under which i had lived for so long

ek kaali ghata ka intzaar hai,
garm hawaon ka thoda thanda bazaaar hai
tum na bolo kuchh aur bhi, itni darkar hai
sabhi kuchh kaho mat, bahut door janey ka sarokar hai