Midnight Moorings

This still adamant wintry cold
abuses SPRING, as its usurper,
the blinds are drawn by the
mechanical hands, unwilling
colours of night slowly merge
into sprawling Silence,
my eyelids close after
avowed application into
books of poetry, Divine music,
while the ever tuning music
of heart sings the
melody of metempsychosis,
where does the SOUL
transmigrate, how, on what?
your body with flesh ,perfumed,
is the tree with green foliage once,
now is it only dried, brown,
a barren stem? Or dried twig?
Those fallen leaves are
brittle, supple, driven
by those fierce winds,
Just as this flesh
thrown as carcase, fetish
no longer, yet unwillingly,
you have to leave
the bonded kinsmen
to a different habituation,
your eyes close to
an awakening of
newer revelation.

English Language wails

I am sorry, for you are sorry,
I am so sorry for you say
sorry without feeling sorry,
you breath less, more you
say sorry, sorry, sorry,
even the tongue becomes
benumbed one day,
for your abuse of the
word sorry, sorry sits
spits and sobs,
for it is exploited,
I would rather undergo
Exfoliation than embezzlement.

It is all happenig there as usual

It is all happening as usual,
It is all just as the
Cosmo graphically set path,
Undeviating Sun and stars,
Seasonal shifts and each
Daying into night,
You walk out into the streets,
Your pet following you,
wagging its tail,
big cats crossing across,
whether Europe or America
the sentiments are always
there, groomed within you,
at times you negate them,
not those pets, their shiny
eyes as if lolling on you,
The sprouts of flowers
of SPRING destroying
the sprawling vacuum ,
blossoming into a new Life,
Hope moralising on the Creator.

A prominent question

Aging grandparents in every household
of ageless pillars and scented gardens,
innocent playful kids and puppy dogs,
are always by your side,
Purring cats, cows tethered to the
iron pikes and milkman with the utensil,
speeding cars in the burning hot
Freeways, affectionate, exploited uncles,
are ever in your vicinity,
Intruders and blood suckers,
Innocence in children ,thundering
applause, clapping audience,
are always there in around you,
failing monsoon, faithless spouses,
robbers and swindlers who pledge
their conscience and connive ,
always elusively deceptive,
bugging us everywhere,
But think and thank
Whether God , the universal
Is always by your side.

Greatest Evil of Devil

To be born in the greatest
days of evils , devils of
salacious materialism,
misleading you all the times,

To be hoodwinked, forayed
Into something beyond your
belief, your conviction,
delved into a regular volley of

deception, yet believing those
people ,imposing their way of life,
they belie the proven, established
truths, making inroads , encroaching
into your deep rooted Faith,

Living goes on, living
with a thread hanging
around your neck, living
with a deceiving bickering,

the brazen, brash is seemingly
taking the upper hand,
Sulks under a bask of
Defeatism and despair

The other side of Mother Earth

After a prolonged patience
like a sage in penance,
endurance gets distorted,
mother earth reacts luridly,
the bituminous lava erupts,
so much is devoured in
the volcanic orgy of red
fire , boiling and burning,
bursting and bursting,
smoky embers reach
green , grass and granite
like rocks, those innocuous
birds , careless with winged
freedom , still fly far above,
yet, man shudders and
watches from afar,
may be through a
media or television channel.

Spring breaks

IT is not the usual embittering,
Shivering cold winter, when
You place an order to your
mom for a hot cup of tea,
for you to invigorate for
the ensuing exams,
nor a reprieve for the
studious and lethargic
from the rigor of
classroom assignments
and corporal punishments,
as the sun’s rays gleam through,
the hope of spring break brings
joyous sprinklers to the parched
and dry, spring break detracts
you from the sombre past,
spring is a solace both for
body and soul, spring break
is awaited by all, as healing
is awaited by the most sickly
healing by meditation
and natural medication.

Redocorating

For the New year , the inmates
planned to give a new facelift
to the century old house,
polishing, painting, enamel ,
elaborate pictures in Acrylic,
new mosaic floors , glaze tiles,
much jabbering, chattering ,
on redecorating the house,
new Persian carpets, new
floral decors for the sofa sets,
a totally new set of upholstery ,
some with a bit of poetry in
their blood, imagined carved
engravings with poetic sentiments,
but alas! The corporation came
with a plan of demolition of
old buildings, their dreams were
all jettisoned and scattered.

Puddles

In rainy seasons, I have to cross those
puddles by my ground floor flat,
often, It is construed as an impediment
by many like me, the passers by,
those splash, murkiness, swarms of
readily waiting mosquitoes and flies
are nuisance, irksome ,
pure, falling water from above ,
how transformed into splash
mud , sediments on the ground,
As a child, how often I threw stones,
watched the ripples, observed
those crows and sparrows
their wet wings ,pecking at
the bits on the rim , flew past
into the water, swoop above,
at the sight of threatening human,
Even today, children cut their
School , to play paper boats,
in the puddles, a delectable
game for the innocents,
As I write, I peep, through my
grilled window, a crow
fluttering in the puddles.

Out west

There is an exodus of farmers
with sweat and despair, drooping eyes,
for the parched land , has betrayed them,
they decide to out wet for fresh livelihood,

the brooding swan, the swimming ducks
decry the dried pond, the eastern shore
stinks with dead fish, they still brood,
can they migrate to the soothing west,

I find the east is depressing,
Corruption, envy and suppression,
make you sink down further,
west is warming , upfront greenery

all round you, my prospects of west
are booming, Already I am one foot
in west, today I saw bright ,amber
setting sun in west, beckon me further,

out west is resplendent, regal,
out west is royal and reassuring.

it was in the dark room

It was in the single dark room ,
A luxury , from my birth,
Self contained, every movement
goes by the sound of a tap,
I know, my table, my lamp,
my kettle and tiny stove,
used to this room ever like
a cuisine , no wanting by anybody,
access to a minimal wardrobe,
to this born blind
dark is bright enough.

My painful past

When I stand before the
Gate way of India,
when I sit in the intercity express,
travel through , to see the stops,
to see the sign boards,

My painful past opens up
its hidden pages and hoary
vistas, the sad markings,
it is easy to preach, forget
The past, when you were

A butt of ridicule,
because others were crude,
the sad past with the
sorrowful woes, embittered days,
Time alone can heal these wounds,

Ringtones of melody of present
weave into poignant malady of past,
those discs are winding and winding,
echoing classical tunes of unmatchable rhythm,
always the cyclic rhythm of of heart in tune.

The whole humanity joins
in your unbounded mirth,
but in your suffering , you alone
stand with gathered strength,
struggle and survive but not give in.

Lords and ladies

Lords and ladies
What are those regal kingdoms
without royal sceptre?
what are those lively courts
without jubilation of lords and ladies?

Lords in trim suit,
ladies in glitter and smile,
if ladies ruled lords,
lords ruled courts,

ladies in silken , frocks,
with lords weave quick steps
of ballets in leaps and spins,
in nimble toes and turns,

Once I met a lord of gusto,
with what limitless concern,
he ran to aid her sorrowing
lady who broke her leg in bathroom,

ladies and lords , rule their roost
of inimitable love and unique bond.

Locked out your heart

As I walk past my well pruned garden,
the fluffy gauzy, filmy layer is blown
by the wind, the dandelion is clear ;
My heart is locked up, there is no
Place for you, in my heart,
My mind is clean, My way is out,
I live for myself,
for twenty long years ,I
lived with you, swayed by
your volatile moods,
you bore me two children,
sacrificed my entire self,
pampered you with jewels
and costumes rich,
you knew only a life of
luxury, floating in the air,
you never wanted to know
the meaning of my struggle
and the hardened survival of the
surroundings, you cared none,
that morning, you picked a silly
quarrel and went away,
my neighbours admitted me
in hospital when I had
heart attack, now I know
your baser instincts,
you have scant place
in my locked heart.

Hitchhiking

I was a young lad of ten,
knew nothing of life’s implications,
during weekend kiting I would do,
much to the chagrin of my mother
who wished , inspired me
to excel in academics,

I wanted my kites go higher and higher,
I would run along , compete those stars,
with a sensation I too would one
day fly up the bright sky,
My thoughts already hitch hiked
to those starry realm of distinct blue.

hailing from a family of cobbler
what could I know of Keplar,
crossing miles and miles to
reach my school , with a cartload
of books and curd rice with lemon
pickle to savour my lunch,

One wintry day, stranded in heavy rains,
A horse wagon came to a halt,
to give me a lift, coachman,
throughout cheered me with
Counsel of abiding message,
“ run tirelessly, as fast as this horse,
until you hitchhike your ambition
to the stars and skies,
live with a purpose,
convert the adverse to
your advantage.

I took a vow that day,
Today I am a pilot steering my way.

Handle with care

From the brisk morn till the sunset,
even during midnight, when there
is a lull around her,
She would hold her baby
Or rock the cloth cradle,
whisper with kisses
in fondling terms,
her fragile baby is motionless,
forever asleep,
“handle with care, for
my baby is tender and soft,
she would suddenly awake “,
she would meticulously instruct
her surrounding kith and kin,
they know it is only a toy,
ever since delirium stuck her
after her still born child,
they all handle her with care.

Expressions of love

In my sanctum sanctorum room
of worshipped Gods and Goddesses,
Photos and carvings amidst fragranced
incense my Avatar is seated,
I garland him with Rose and Jasmine
flowers fresh and closely knit,
it is Not the warmth of hug or kiss,
but the best expressions of DIVINE love
and loyalty by the garland and decor.

Mother’s first expression of love is
in her first feed of milk,
Milk of warmth and kindness,
just as the cow licks her new born
Calf , inimitable expression of love,
gardener’s expression of love
through his water pail,
both in the morn and evening,

What more love children want
than the gifts of toys and chocolates
and words of appreciation,
‘excellent’ ‘ good’ ‘wonderful’
from their teachers in the class,


It is His expression of His Love
for His creation, that makes
Him give a long rope.

wail of an egg

I am shell bound,
The hard, white, globular shell
that covers me, protects me,
subjected to perilous attacks,
by the hardened , hammer like
abortive hands of mankind,
Just as the embryo of a babe,
I am protected within the pith,
had it not been for the selfish
Human, I would have flown away,
But now, unawares am I,
baked, caked, melted and grated,
I bemoan my predicament.

Dont pity me

Don’t pity me
As I was running fast ,
for a fashion parade,
I chanced upon a snail,
As if it chides me, it looks ,
Don’t pity me, I m safe,
that is the way I am created,
but you be balanced, lest
you should go and hit against
a lamp pole,

my daughter failed in
Hindi exam three times,
when jeered at by friends,
she returns a curt reply,
don’t pity me for my defeat,
for each attempt, is a forte,
a new learning of words,
next time she achieved
a marvellous distinction,
she pitied others’ haste.

the match makers feel
that I should wear
matching blouse , matching
bangles, else, I become a mismatch,
the man in rags on the streets,
pities me and says,
don’t pity me, when my
belly pinches , I don’t care
for my patches,

The old man’s stick
tells me, don’t pity me,
in due course, I shall be yours.

kinds of pities pity
each other, " don’t pity me’’.

Difficult people

Difficult people, difficult situations, difficult life,
if archangel had not fallen, he would not
have become a difficult man, he would not
have made life difficult for Adam and Eve,
It is the difficult people who do not
weigh things in equal scale, sane method,
Send the innocent to the gallows,
It is the difficult who do not
interrogate and verify but proceed,
it is the difficult who revel and revile,
rebel against reason but treason,
like the termites the difficult corrode,
make inroads wherever they go,
it is not the children that are difficult,
It is the elders, determined to be difficult,
be it bus stops, railway counters,
Post offices, milk depots, voting booths,
The difficult make others lives difficult
they become obdurate,
If God becomes equally difficult,
It becomes more difficult for the difficult.

Being overwhelmed

Those years of inerasable subdued altercation,
two decades of yearning , while teaching,
Yearning for justice, earning while learning,
Peripherally knowing the surroundings,
Not knowing many things, knowing and
unknowing, weaning away from reality,
reconciling to my lot, ignoring many things,
somebody’s shortcoming, your purloined peace,
I reconciled to my lot, resigned to my fate,
Overwhelming pressure, counting days ,
Thankless environment, how long to
Pull on? I introspected myself,
One fine afternoon, as if from Above,
The order of my shift to a bigger place
was served, I was overwhelmed with
gratitude to my Creator.

A shoulder to cry on

When those bulldozers mercilessly pulled down
that hundred years old mansion of my
grandparents, I was the witness to the
disruptive process of demolition,
I craved for a shoulder to cry on
to express my anguish and despair,

how, often that couple carried the
brick and mortar and lime on their
shoulders, not merely that, how many
in that local village would look forward
to them, for a shoulder to cry on
in times of duress and distress,

Many a distraught with pain
for scorpion bite would
throng my grandmother for
healing by chanting with pepper,
for many a child , she was a
must, a shoulder to cry on.

Left alone in this cruel world,
bewildered and bemused,
scam and embezzlement
surrounding you like a
pale of gloom, grizzle ever,
I cling to my Avatar.


You need a God with
Protective vision ,
A shoulder to cry on.
at the time of birth,
we all cry, a must,
It is an universal cry,
We need a shoulder to cry on.

Anything is possible

When He wills to descend from The Above
to this chaos and clutter Anything is possible,
For Him the ruler of the earth,
The creator of this vast universe,
The Maker of the Deep Blue,
The myriad stars, and the firmament,
Anything is possible,
If He wills, He can fold the sky,
Dry the Ocean, Anything is possible,
Anything is possible for the Avatar,
for The God-sent, if He wills,
He protects, protracts and pains,
Shrinks and sprinkles, shrivels,
Anything is possible for Him,
He is silent and salient,
Yet, for the man who is
Vociferous and seemingly virile,
Anything is possible only in words
But not in deeds, not in deeds.

Ancient cities

I visualised ancient cities
for college competition,
those relics and ruins
times’ boundaries , erosions,
civilisations that are today’s
monuments and history’s
real story time pages,
no aircrafts, no escalators
where the first step I need
to carefully step in,
for sixty cannot compete
with sweet sixteen ,
those coins in copper pots
and idols of excavations ,
mix memory with
the past, and dexterity,
serenity struck those cities
where no multi storied
buildings and mush room
growth of population,
no bundles of toilet papers,
no dry taps,
those ancient cities
do not echo your voice
in tapes and comp discs
those are the ancient cities
without air pollution
still vibrant in notation.

A gentle touch

A gentle touch.
I was like a loner, a lost child,
amidst the medley of motley crowd
of ambition and ambivalence,
jostled and pushed by stampede,
At last Heaven’s gates of Mercy
Opened up on me,
My Mentor’s feather touch
Of healing and clairvoyance
came like manna from above,
It was a gentle touch of
Assured protection of
emphatic Words ;
for one who has been exposed
only to scatological words of
abuse, rubbish and scam,
His gentle touch is of
Ambrosial fragrance.

A day at the beach

A day at the beach
It was a very special hot day of summer,
You chose an evening of reprieve
from your monotonous office routine,
the cool breeze and you see the
fishermen’s tents , lives in their nets,
yet, it was not merely sitting by the beach ,
your papers filled with poetic freedom,
not only a day eating the ground nuts hot
while those urchins crying to eke out
a hard precarious living, trying to pop in
those hard earned coins , into their torn
trousers, you simply pity their helpless
predicament, generous to donate a five rupee
note, while the man nearby bargains for
fifty paisa, it is his will and wish,
you can’t impose upon him,
walk along those countless sands,
you see your embedded foot prints,
yonder, some birds take off by the
shore, some with dappled wings
paddle in the waters,
while the rocky , majestic waves,
as if imposing some harsh, ghastly
rhythm of life, create a fear
in you and me,
what are we before the oceanic
rigor and turbulence?
A helpless fetid flesh,
If swallowed by rigour of anger.

Patience and Green earth

Deforestation goes on ,
as if it is man’s prerogative,
Man’s thoughtless sickle
Fells the branches of the
ageless tree, the roots
spread on the brown earth,
yonder, on the neighbouring
hills, the cicadas on tall trees,
make a mockery of those
smart , busy hands,
blackbirds pour in as if
in elegiac mood,
oh! Man, why do you
turn the green earth
into a brown , colourless
wading pool of dry and wry,
Mother earth, which is embodied
Patience, bemoans and decries
Setting sun shadows the
Stubborn deforestation .