IS it a fear or reconciliation?

IS it a fear or reconciliation?

The moment he is born, one day

Or other, death is imminent.
we all go by this time honoured dictum;

I grow in this  vast world of  beauty,

Nurture and grace, along side poverty

Paucity and growth  and ailing and disease;

fear amidst chaos  and death, life

has its own charm, duty and dullness.

Stars  and sun shine  show their trajectory

to carve  a path of illustrious glow,

we  follow to sing and  suit  our moods,

 stars being realm of my  imagination,

image  and image fixing; our forte;

from this dark pale world of self exile,

you  enter into a  darker zone, come

out of it, rebuilding your fear ridden image;

what do skeletons do, what can our bones,

dry  bones, or bones into burnt ashes do;

 sleep and dream and think in my cottage

until I fly with my wings to a different zone.

fish and flinch after guardian

HE  wrote  the recordation

Using pencil and pen and type writer,

Adjusting ribbons often, now

Advanced systems and mobile

To trace  and retrace of his moorings;

Monkeys  appear  and disappear

Causing troubles, semblance of

Ancient  man and  his habits;

Now sailing  in modernism and art

Trade  and traffic all governed by

 Latest tech.  Finch and  fish flying images

In his poetry all pervasive;

Long live fish, newspaper  and magazine

Long live poetry and art.

The idler ( after Guardian)

The  idler  ( after  Guardian)

As light as his body, his approach

 wanderings into his own chosen,

 accorded by habit and leisure,

he walks carefree  unburdened

 by any  concern or binding  nature;

 his body be a load or his load to be

unloaded soon in trash, imbibing

a lesson, life is ash or trash ;,

if one among fast reeling humanity,

if slowed down by his slowness,

merging with  busy or hiding in corner,

he is desirous of  a keen eye

 to spot his favorite ,pleasing to his eyes;

his only mission to find solace

in silence and silence in his dream;

With the resplendent sun, on his face

With multitasking beams, he is moving

Into a  better world, a world of  of his choice,

Better and  for a   better deal ; this world

You abrogate, you are heading on for new.

Cooking gas

Cooking  gas

Gone are  those days of firewood

and coal when women had their hard times

battling and blowing through

to run the domestic chore;

heavy tons of rice  and vegetables,

porridge and  pots of boiling milk

and pans of papads  - all  in daily

routine  all in three rounds unlimited;

these  are times, when no patience

and pragmatics prevail as far as

these ancient outdated  modules figure

in  most women’s heart and thinking;

heavy cylinders with cooking gas

connecting tubes  with gas lighters

 modern kitchen with modernized

 appliances where  modernity creeps in

minute by minute; little do we realize

how hard it is for  delivery man  to lift

on his shoulders and  load and re load

in his van rolling from street to street;

modernity has its own limits

modernity has its own  rubrics

'What if the sun shines?'

   ‘ What if the  sun  shines?’

   Me born, denied  of   vision,

   my dark room  like x ray theatre;        

    my living luxury with unbounded

   Forte. What if the seasons blossom

  with respective smiles, up swelling  like

  springs of water taps in corners of

  railway platforms, for me the dark

  is my ordained luxury.

   A gentle tap   going afore

  when compelled by necessity

  on the traffic ridden roads, sun beams

  glare at me impartial, jasmine and rose

  those captivating, nosedrils    piercing                                                           

   fragrance, foray that they belong to

   their category, for I see them not.

 All  these  for   the sense of my being,

 Flip for the skin and  flesh;

 But  my four walls, for my soul  attuned 

 ever since I came into this blessed soil!

for  it bears me still ,still and  silent. 

What  if the sun peeps out!

Winter pause ( after guardian)

Winter  pause ( after guardian)

 Memory does not forsake me

for relieving in your face  and beauty

is a  bliss, which I enjoy viewing the

outside pouring stars; still  snow

pollution stagnant every where.

Grass  is green and so is desire

where amplifiers and trade

go on, trafficking people,

from morn till dusk where

dark descends in all corners.

Like Eliot’s mixing memory

and desire here  youth and strong

desire for flesh, cathedrals  and choir

play with cats  and tender  toys;

wild peeps in with a zest of curiosity.

Hour passes  by, flowers shrink at dusk,

when birds go back to their protective caves,

silence   and serenity with lowing beams

sing along inward bidding good bye;

what is called winter sun on its own path.

After Daft patter ( guardian)

After  Daft   patter  ( guardian)

What is loneliness, if you define

And defy loneliness, it is a sort

Of strengthening, analyzing your

Vicinity, your being, and nature

and surroundings; may be with a

tinge of  introspection and sullen brood.

Bearing all that is dark and chill

In cold, your pinafore a guard and care

Doesn’t  care for wind and grass,

Riding on  in free grass mounds

and  paddy chanting tomorrow

is breezing fast around you;

at times, seasons and almanac

timed in ancient codifications,

ruled your expectations, still

I am far away from these time bound

Restrictions, you are aware perhaps;

Still waking around  chained by

Bond of togetherness and oneness

Permeating our  culture  and cue.