This whimpering jubilation,crackers

This    whimpering   jubilation, crackers...

This  day,  these  crackers on the open  ground,

Rising  flower  pots, though upfront, melt  down

Whimpering   jubilation, cracking   ear drums,

Yet   a  colourful    feast  to  the eyes,

Sudden  shooting  monsters, some   lifeless

On   the wet ground, encircling   smoke above,

You    carefully   trample upon

  disembarked   entities,   decoloured ,

spooky   puffs  of   smoke  around you,

 At  the end of  the journey  this is life.

Something popping out on the wall

Something    popping  out on the  wall

Something   popping  out  on the   exterior  wall,

Defunct , deadly  life, this  living,

Modernized , yet  moribund  :  living  in   shallow

each minute  eating  up   your   conscience

You   allow  being  eaten up,

Even  the  void  terrifying   you,

 Something    pouring   in disguise

as  a  presage   On  the  web  of   mechanical

gyration, the   nodes   where filling

 and unfulfilled    desires  clash, 

yonder  you   sight  a 

breathless   whale, the   castaway catamaran

the   noon   time  delight of  urchins

allowing  countless  crabs  a freepaly,                       

in  a quickly  transported   vision

 you  see  the punctured  dead bones,

hither   and  thither  wandering ,something,

shadow    or enigma  or  a  soul  whacking

on the   half  burnt  bones,

flesh  already  corroded  when alive,

  fetish   for  wicked  or   sinister  living :

something  popping out  on the exterior  wall.

'' GANGA IS SUNKEN''

‘’ GANGA    IS  SUNKEN.

The  meticulously   bought   copper vessel

Tightly  sealed,  gurgling  within,

Ganga    water making  noise  when  shaken,

Sacredly  covered  in saffron  robe

Now   travels  in    A/C coach ,

Amidst   speeding  rail  sounds                          

On    curvature  tracks.

The   great  ,obedient, septuagenarian 

  son , strictly  adheres  to  the  command,

Obeys  the ordinance of  his great  mother,

brings  home   the sacred   symbol  from

Banaras in  all veneration ,prostrates at

The  feet of  his  aged  mother.

Home   jingling   in  all  religious

Venerosity  for  grandma  passes

Strict  injunctions   that   after

  ablutions  the    Ganga   Water

be  sprinkled  all  over  the  house,

Grandson ,the  third  generation product

Furtively  making  merry upstairs

Finds  no  harm  in  mixing   some  Ganga

Water  with  the  whisky vial.

‘’  Ganga   is  sunken’’

God has unfolded His Umbrella

God   has  unfolded  His  Umbrella.

God    has  already   unfolded  His 

Well wrought   scheme   of Umbrella

For   His    chosen   and  snag less;

 Man  folds   harsh  and crude

Punching  and pricking  his  palm,

The  splash   smearing  his  face,

Puddles  as  if   to  blur  and swat

He  is  faceless, like   a cat

With   scratches  criss cross  

Its   mewing ,  looking  aslant;                                                                                                                    

God  has  unfolded  HIS  Umbrella,

Rains  ! Rains! It  splashes from the

Heavens .   Man    cannot  fold  them. 

Smart kitchen, Smart God.

  Smart  kitchen,  Smart  God.

My  well equipped  kitchen

With  a  shiny  tiled floor

Reflects   the  vessels  my  

Granny  passed on  to me,

 Ceded  out of  love  and affection,

My  wedding  gifts,  ancestral  galore!

 A picture  of modern kitchen

 Hangs on the  painted wall

Mocks  at those  upside down

 Giggling  vessels;                             

 Microwave ,  Tupperware  

Melamine  and    hot packs  almost   ready

to  usurp   their coveted   seats;

Inadvertently   thrown   matchstick

Still  dangling  with  a flicker of  Life,

Mates  with  a  dry    Jet clean   scouring  pad,

‘Ready  Set  Go’

The  magic flow  of water

On the black  granite

My  Home  God  improvises

To  quench  the  ire,

Smart  kitchen, smart  God.

Awakening

     Awakening...                                                                                          

 After  decades  of  torpor,

 You   never  knew  the happenings,

For  your  tarot  cards failed ,

Or   wilfully  executed  masterminded,

Strategy  by   those that  excel  in their art,

The  chess masters’ move  was   taciturn,

All the move was centripetal,

Subaltern  and wile, not perceptible

By   your naked eye.

This  awakening   comes like  a flower,

A  golden   Frisbee coming  towards you,

Sudden   like  the  advent of  celebrity.

                                                                                                                                                                               

Faith

            Faith

When   the  city  was engulfed

by   the   gruesome  blackout ,

the wailing  thin city as if

Clamped  by  curfew,

The   roaring  sea  devastated,

the bridge  and the  rail

giving   the  happy    passengers

A  clean  and sudden burial,

 the  Labour  in the  hospital

goes   on , the  cry  of the

new   born  comes in,

 the   flicker  of  the  candle 

emits    hope   for  the  inmates,

I  the lone  walker  on the

Flooded  road,   breathe

Faith ,   by the   felled

Tree,  slowly  Falling,

Falling  in the   Fallen hour.

Requiem for missing one

 Requiem   for  a  missing one.

Two  years  have  passed,

Two  long  years , no  ! they  are  short,

Looks   as if  it  happened  yesterday.

Where  are  you  ? Where  did  you  disappear?

I chanced  upon  a  blue  coloured  sari

Gifted  by you,  even  the  cupboard 

Wails for the loss, loss of  both.

I    look up   to  the    heavens

  demanding     full  Justice, 

is  she  eclipsed by them?

they  are  clever in their  whisper,

whisper  of the   Message,

she  is protected  by  every  wink,

every  blink of the stars,

personal  care.  Away, away

from this eclipsing  threnody.

What  is   Real  Dark?

You   are in the  deep  centre  of  the 

Gnawing   Rut  of  abysmal  confusion 

Corroded  by  Sins  Syndrome, 

Not  knowing  the  reason ;

 You  are  the  butt of   revile,

This  is  the  real   dark ,

The  causing  treadmill  continues

 Its    work ; its  tireless  play,

You   are  the   munching  cow  now,

Mull over  the  stupefying   mystique,

It  is  like  Stygian  cave,

Could  hear  the guffaw;  

Guffaw   by   outwardly smiling

  Yet ,  Boiling  within..

At last   you  go  circling.    and circling

Circle  beyond  the  ambit of   revival,

till    you  get  submerged

until   some   redeeming 

Divine   divines   your   anchorage.