Tuesday, December 27, 2005

What is the origin from?

You call it suspicion, or doubt,
it is not inborn, it all came from
the place he belonged to,
the place where he was born,
the sister chic which he trusted
it is not a chic but a pin prick
whom he believed to be true,
to be stung by the poisonous asp
time and again, with malice
tenacity, made inroads into his life
emitting fire and drawing sustenance.
money was the only motto,
money was her ultimate motto,
her world is totally sadistic,
little did she realize
that there is E-commerce,
broad band and E-banking,
growing E-business,
but no E- birth
but yet, electric cremation.

Monday, December 19, 2005

Mom! You are a pleasant bug

My dear mom! you bug me with your care,
at lunch with feeding spoons and filtered water
and at bed with soothing advice
from grandfather stories and grandmother days,
and at bath with towels and trousers
the choice is yours and not mine!
A strict no to Television and a commanding yes
to my study with books of History and Geography
viable on my table shabby.
an examining look from the kitchen
amidst puffs of smokes and steams
boiling potatoes and crushed green chilies and spices,
a compelled nursery rhyme by rote,
a sure gateway to ice-cream and plum cake,
before exams some cautious and careful tips
and strict instructions of dos and don’ts.
when I grow up I owe my success to you
and happily cherish the pleasure after the bug.

137) Space,space

Space, space, space 137


Is there anyone who doesn’t fight for space?
We all crave for space, space for living and lying,
Space for even burial even in death and reclining,
Mushroom growth of competition for space
grows at a faster pace, faster pace,
If God’s creation is not bound by a phased pace,
The eyes two would be disproportionately out of place,
and nose on the face would be in equal chaos.


Between me and you, there is so much of space,
Else everything will be amiss!
When there be no space between the
Inhabited ground and the limitless blue sky
how can you and I travel to space?

(117) My walking stick or walker or talker.....

My walking stick or walker or talker----(117)




My walking stick or walker or talker,
Or walkie-talkie brother, talks a longer,
When polio knocked away my leg
The substitution mocks at merciless by passers,
Segmenting many a secrets of stories,
The stick taps many a suppressed feelings of
The folklore and gruesome hospitalized days,
Carefully saved money was spent on severing
The right for left was left to right the wrong,
Oh! Those bitter days of amputation,
Could I weep but in private or curse my fate,
Those days of complex,mushroomed thoughts,
Isolating me from humanity,a fear
a feel of my loyal supportive
Spinal card gave way:
Yet my walker continues the journey,
braving the thistles and thornes,
marching on to avenues to new.
The black dog with white spots----

The black dog with white dotted spots
on its drooping face,
like figures on world map spread on its body,
Ceaselessly barks before embarking on a dustbin,
for mankind’s ambivalence
and atrocities and growing turbulence,
wagging its tail to clean the foodstuffs
and rice balls offered as sacred manes
for the ancestral dead ones,
thrown in front of the house,
chased by its master for its clutter,
the dog and the master have to go
the same place whence they come from,
I,as passerby pity the hurried one
not to call it animal for till now:
It befriended its heinous, sinister, master.
It settles in a corner, its animal nature cowed
to view another human animal passion
augmented on its way, in a silent mode.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

My Umbrella

My umbrella shrinks and flies away
unable to withstand the stormy wind,
as would a theif escape the claws of the police,
my adamant hand clings to balance the black protector,
yet the protector is protacted by a more forcible force:
the dark colour dances to a pathless way,
boldly combats the ruling kite,kisses the rustling leaves,
runs to a corner to be confronted by a tree.
The protesting kite gets torn ,adamantly waves,
waves to rule the sky:the tree seems to be an asylum
to this refuge,like a lizard hanging up the branches,
the freedom is curbed ,curbed and controlled!
Pearl radhe
It is a beautiful rose pearl embedded
in a gold ring decorating my right finger,
The rose merges with the skin,
Reminding me of its origin,
The pearl origin of its pristine shine
Mixed with its purity weaving its
Own lengthy tale of its root,
Cared by the sea and protected by oyster,
How the diver ambitious and ruthless,
Dives deep, deep catches it
To be shaped and burnished,
To be pawned to the seller,
He in turn parts with another,
The pearl passes many a hand
Finally chances upon my band,
Emanates many a poem,
And many a story of past and the
Present, and a resplendent future,
Soothing me always the one wearing
The precious, a treasure which
I cherish it, a treasure to be prided upon,
Where no trifling and trading be done.

Sunday, December 04, 2005

‘DIVINATION’

The Creator’s steady impartial Hand,
Like the Wheel of Creation itself,
Doubling the very process of Divination,
Just as a miracle of His magic Wand,
Sweeps the ocean and land,
Unequivocal and gubernatorial,
Unwinding the mystery of His plan,
Causing Deluge and Resurrection,
Advocate Renunciation,
Through the winding paths of Divine Incarnation.
Not borrowed but plundered feather

You reap the harvest of my labour in the field,
in leaps and bounds,beyond the boundary line,
The grains in clusters cover the sickle an d the hand,
the storage is full ,full, yet my efforts are null,
you plundered my land by force, in my absence,
you have even stifled your conscience,
you had a tent in my land to unseat me,
to disposses me and my ward
who else knows but only the omnipotent God!
Reasons and rectifications ,my Lord!