Month: September 2006

i could  smell the aroma
of an unripened garden
that you did not care to erase or uproot
when you left that valley
unguarded and uncared
now that i have seen it
i will go back
to the peaks which might still be unassailed
but for how long

Gandhi,

will you be born again

why should  your words

be a measure

to deny us worldly pleasure, are you

an erasure

of all desires

which censure

the wishes of those

who follow you for some distance

and then find chasing the mirage

unsure,

you are pure

but does not diamond need casing of only

eighteen carat gold

should we not

thus be more impure

to keep the diamonds

of your thoughts

in our heart

for sure

when is becomes ought

i am unable to decide

was this the fate

that i had really sought

no matter, what arguments we use

the dreams are not sold

and the promises are not bought

we pursue our missions

uncaringly about the stops on the way

who bothers

whther few birds do not keep the sway

the silence is sufficient

to suggest that we are right

or else, the loud voice would  have erased

no matter what  we write

will u hold the string still
when i am crossing the river
on the bridge
feeble and weak
but with enough strength to let me cross over

will u hold the string still
when i dance and sing
like a doll
in His hands
unsure
where will i go, if i go

why should  i be warned

every time

i ask

and observe

if the sentry at the door

of life

is sleeping

so that i can sneak inside

without having to explain

and with no need to defend

or maintain

the facade of innocense

as if it matters

as  if

as

as if it mattered that i waited
when the doors closed
and the priest went home, the temple was quiet

but  the river still flows behind the courtyard
in which you danced and sang
when spring was in its bloom
and there was no rush for time
today, life is so rushed
and the spring is so ashamed
of its blossoms
after  all
who is here to wait and dance
sing and ask

when you are quiet

devotees infer that to be a sign

of some thing spectacular  likely to happen soon

but why is it

that i am not agitated

as if,it is a small boon

to be born deaf and dumb

but with a desire to say a lot

my language

your silence

both are meant for

those who can not hear or speak

i have washed your feet

faced your fury

absorbed your smiles and

failed the jury

i am not sad though

i am not worried

so long as you bless the world

i will plough

the lonely furrough

pick up olives
from the garden
and squeeze them
may be the dressing of the oil
will make salad of serenity
more loveable