anil gupta's blog

the day i become realistic,
i think, i will cease to exist
why are you asking me to
walk on the same earth
which some times has drought of desires
and some times floods of tears
why not give me a new earth
that will have valleyes of blue flowers
of the same colour that you wore when you left
these shores for new harbours
like a ship
whose sails had not opened
when breeze came
and there was a chance that you could come back
now i am waiting to go to himalays
and hope that some cliff will kiss me
and embrace me so hard
that i become a rock in her arms
and a river flows washing
all memories
that shape my
moods
and meandearings
you never dissauded me from wandering around
in the forest of faith
and now you ask me to
keep quiet, and wait
just as the snow does
till the whole world becomes warm
by the coldness in your heart

afraid of asking questions, do not use masks
they will get washed away
in rains
but then who does not wear masks, some wearthem
and some have grown these on their skin
even rains can not wash
do not curse clouds for being benign
what could they do,
they can not fall in love with lightening

why do always make your chosen devotees

suffer the most

i know you have no answer

except syaing that in suffering

we are not afraid of intimacy

but then i have never doubted

your grace

why am i asking this question

has my faith been eroded

or is it that i am not willing to accept your rules

or is it that i want to be pampered,

you decide,

as if you will not, if i did not permit, Ah!!

the desire to go home

has bothered some birds  for mellenia,
they wish to go back,
to the same corners where
they had a few moments alone
in confidence and of
all pretentions, shorn
why do i wish to go home,
smell of the same chemistry
in the kitchen
my mother’s miracles
or my fathers’ indifference
to smell
but not sentiments
to style but not substance

when the stains of the silence

stick to your scarf

you do want to wipe

the face or forehad

on which pespiration sparkles like the stars

that have fallen

from a broken sky

i am not sure

if i need to extend

my arms so that you can lean and rest

or should  i just stand and observe

how you face

the fatigue

of met expectations,

so long as unmet desires drove your chariot

you were in command

now that you have met your end

why have you lost the command?

torn apart 

i lay there

on the stones ( of the railway track)

that had been brought from a mountain

on the top of which

i had longed to climb and sing

and dance

now that i have lost my limbs

i wish to dance even more

hold my arms that

stretch within me, you can not even see

detours of desires

are not the pathways

on which one ever finds

peace that beguiles

and luls one to assume

that the end is near,

the fire is now determined

to consume all the leftover memories

that were the seeds

of my poems

delete them,

lest they envelop the air

which we breathe

and so may emerge

a being that is absobed

completely by the passion

of perseverence in vain

why do you display

all your trophies of vanquished souls

and some memories

that you dismiss by your loud calls

for not bearing with

the audacity of devotees

who come every day

even if you refuse to let them pray

in your temple and under your grace

how have you become so brute and

have still a glowing face

you blessed me with your grace

when i was lying on road

with an entangled lace

small, slow and subtle

was your smile

but it took me a long while

to understand why

that day, my fall did not concern you

though  you just smiled and

did not abandon me

i now understadn

why you make me suffer

you can not let a weak soul be

worthy of your anger

and hate

why do i write about pain

why

what makes the roads i have walked on for so long

suddenly sparkle and glow

stars in your eyes

light up

when sky is dark

but you walk on the milky way

as if scattering smiles

from over there,

uncaring, unconcerned

yet involved every day

in keeping track of my pain,

as if it gives you an umbrella in rain