After Breath ( Guardia

  After  Breath (  Guardian)

What is death?  Sudden

cessation of breath

or stopping of palpitation,

or pulse coming down

lulling all consciousness;

unanswered question, pain

accompanying our beginning

of existence into this life;

misery of mysterious age’s

advent into the fabric of our selves.

Yet, the parties and functions

 Celebrate our moods and moorings

like the balloons going up, hovering

in air, until blown by sudden wiffs .

yonder, husband and wife delight

“in the quietness” of children’s sleep,

Their future,  vagaries  of life

 and perilous paths and voyages

veering round unknown blizzards.          

In their togetherness, there is  silent

Exchange of breath and love.

After Guardian's "porch light"

  After  Guardian’s     porch light

It is a two way  house of ancient

Ceiling and pillars supporting the

Pyal and halls where children after

A dip into the steam, come round

and round the same with a  merry

song in tune with the parrots on

tree tops repeating  the calls. Cocks

and hen and geese guffawing.

Mills grinding flour and chilies,

with a deafening sound far off,         

a girl peeps out of portico with

a handbook of sums of homework,

enjoying life’s handwork, ducks

in ponds dripping  with a  message,

be cool ever with  a farsighted vision.

Porch light, glimmering through

For  a dawn of cheers and serendipity.

                                                                                                                          

IN MAKING A GARLIC GINGER PASTE FOR ANCHORITE

IN  MAKING A GARLIC GINGER PASTE  FOR ANCHORITE         

He is  an old-timer,  man of gardening

Herbs and herbal therapy in his wallet

Green leaves and  Tulsi paste  in vial,

Proportionate seasoning with mint,

His cough ,his congested chest,

Would  crave for relief soon,

Self medication is his forte;

Dying anchorite  would scribble ,

Scribble  till his muse goes for rest.

His ginger garlic paste  brings him

Back to this normal world, his dying  

Soul would seek redemption every minute.

He screams “ I am  alive with redoubled

Vigor and fate  cannot harm me”

In search of a theme.

In search of   a  theme

                                                

Other side of closed wall,

still your moorings  are

inside; like  Ping-Pong ball;

pushing to   realm of  fear-ridden

 fish  weltering in a  tub,

water receding out slowly,

aridity? call it uncertainty?

Like musketeers with ration card

In front of food suppliers, their

morrow bleak,  hungered children ,

wait for  dad’s return with three

bags full of stuff and suffice in both

their looks  cropped up sudden.

Struggle for survival : mapping the road?

Server down, making many waiting

in endless queue, your  train or flight

will not wait for you, on line transaction

for medical bill, taking patient where?

big bazaars billing counters  go awry,

sweat and dust falling in dusk,

call it pitfall in technology?

  me drawing   circle,

Stuffing many a  theme .

In the morn and eventide (AFTER GUARDIAN)

In  the morn and eventide

When roses and jasmine serenade

In my garden of ages beyond my ken,

Why? even my grandsons still count

 The ages of  The arch and walls built

by ancestors will and meticulous  design;

                                                  

sitting on the mound she plucks a rose

throws in the meadow by  a deft throw!

Crows caw in a repeat of warning:

 Beware every moment.  It is a world

of uncertainty, fear coiling everywhere;

when cows led by the boys,

when urchins play with kites

by the  river pond, when young lass

carry water in the pot, gurgling by,                 

when grand sire's stick falls down

in the river, yonder temple bells chime,

crows in search of roost, repeat cawing,

sounding a  note of warning,

It is a world of uncertainty,

fear coiling everywhere;

in wintry bed  still, they coil

beneath a  rug of worn out;

frosty wind blow  through the air

curtains hang signaling  moon shine,

milk boiler  getting heated

many a time by the caring housif,

whistle blowing  a  warm merry note

giving a wake up call, wake up call.

                                          

                  

supplication ( Guardian

Supplication ( Guardian)

Oh! Lord, oh! God,

I am in this city of poly cultures,

Demi -gods, saints, atheists,

Prayer halls and religious lectures,

I believe in You, move with the

Believing non -believers ; chat

With pecking birds and blooming

Rose buds and green savannas where

There is   God’s plenty like full throated

flow of chirping and Vedas;            

 But of late, there is calumny and chaos

and killer instinct and  razing competition;

descend to mend and bend those unbending;       

You are tired of telling where they have gone

Wrong, for wronging is in their blood,

Such adamant creatures; Oh! God descend

Now to quell their arrogance twined with

Stupidity, a determined will to thwart ancient  

beliefs and dictums. Now is the time to guard,

 to reckon my fealty  to You forever.

                                                      

s

Poem after (Hay Jude)

Poem   after  (Hay Jude)

Hay   Man!  When you sing  a song,

let it be so loud that  it is curious

mixture of  extreme  joy  to invite

all merry youngsters to join and revel;

let the song be also  tempered in mood

of justified  anger and frustration that angels

descend to appease you in  diction

of clairvoyance and protection.

This is  a colorful world replete

With resplendence and Nature’s

Beauty  and Bounty  in all its  forms;

Even the ocean gyrating in great

Colors including the surf and swathes ;

Why only black and white?

Oh! Man , think of your childhood days,

 With cola and kite ever playing on the streets,

Getting  a warm scolding from your mom,

For the sunburnt face and  home work not done.

Now  you are grown, wearing a sun glass,

 Venturing into many new feats and success.

Sing along ,sign aloud a  merry song,

Also a prayer to The Almighty,

Beseeching His Guidance and   Divine Succor.

    

FTER GUARDIAN ( AROUND THE IVY LEAVES)

AFTER GUARDIAN (  AROUND THE IVY LEAVES)

AT times browsing  HIS book on Milton,

Taking  a  gentle stroll on the green savanna,

A soft mellifluous note by flute springing

From  afar,sparrows twitter by ivy’s opulence;

his looks at a  child  in frilled skirt, dancing

round  with blooming crackers all over;

 Also  a girl with a water can in teens,

Gurgling on her sari, her humming  a romantic tune

From the firmaments blessings of showers, a glow

All around. Speedy gale shedding all leaves of ivy,

His  mind’s eye forewarn, not to  cross his boundaries:

Greatness lies in admiring from afar, not getting

Polluted by momentary lapse into skin’s itch;

He ponders if an ode to the innocence of the child,

If a lyric to the pleasing ears of the serenading girl

Would  suffice the need of the hour; his dictates

Tell him, as long as he abides by qualms

of conscience and morality,  a smooth nod

 his guiding star.

Joker or poker -a show (guardian)

Joker or poker -a show (guardian)

All play and buffoonery and jokes

healthy wealthy, best for blood

circulation and tendons growth.

Audience prefers most of the time.

But we go to the hall for  a theme

A story, a move of  uncontrollable

emotion, Not for tears swelling down.

Let music glow and thrall, keep

Us spell bound. Let the clowns

Come and go at intervals;

Let us all leave the hall with

Balanced mood of satisfaction.

                                                  

A Card with worth what?

A Card  with worth  what?

 

IT is a   card, not  a board,

Square  card,portable,

Pocket able, light yet,

Full of weight in times

Of need, more  for luxury.

Gone are those days of

Jingling coins and  fresh notes

Of currency emitting full aura

As if from the Mint,in bundles

and banded with a   knot.

A card with a  pin but not

Dateless; like  humans, this

 Electronic Wizard  too has

Expiry date, entry point and

Exit at your own willed accord.

Forgot pin at the store point,

Shops and  malls and mega marts;

A quandary for me and family;

Those in queue an added tension,

Time is running out for all in this.

                   

Machine age with server down;

Manual rescue to redeem our risk

always a  boon and delectable pleasure.

                   

poker ( after guardian

Poker AFTER (GUARDIAN)

Where are the  vessels? Where is the radio?              

Where is the poker? The maid in usual tone

Raises her voice against the mystery of missing

Objects. What a cunning world we live in? she

Screams ; always scheming and plundering is the

way of the world.  Pepper  and  salt always nil

in the bottles, easily transported to a paper or portable

plastic container. Oh! Maintaining the house is

onerous task indeed, she mumbles clearing all

grains split on the floor by mishap of rattling

from the cupboard.  Oil smeared on gas oven,

will take months together to wipe and clean

the soot . Her lady was away for a week,

maid became slowly slackened and  other

subordinates became culprits in outlook

and action.  Maid shudders and shivers in

shoes; thinking how best to answer her head.

 The cupboards and slabs all hungry now

Adding to her hunger and anger.

Guardian ( as you set out )

Guardian  ( as you set out )

Life is  undoubtedly a   two way  path

Intertwining in your coil of success and

Failures, soars and serendipity; an edge.

Arrival and departure lounges, ever busy

tracking and passengers  dragging baggage;

their indomitable destiny, chasing   karma

vigilant devouring their plans and ambitions.

Short notice, your landlord vacates your

Apartment, your  in-laws mushrooming

On the plundered  coins  gathered in the

Garb of  have-nots and   it is your  duty,

Some argued boldly and assertively.

Your intuition tells, “get ready” . your

Grandchildren already bidding adieu.

Your bed slowly  slipping you  to a

Better place of eternity, comfort and care.

Bills and  payments and loans and redemptions

Shares  to the next generations.

Yes! You set out to a different world!

The ruins an Golden Age

Come to the verdant country side,

A walk by the salving brooks and           

Majestic hills, where medicinal plants grow

Copious and  charming, with mystic songs

always transporting you to a world beyond

your ken and  wit; where are those colonies now?

They are dying and defunct like the dried fallen

Leaves. The quay stones speak volumes of  their

Pride  and history ; ruins are our once jewels ;

How often, urchins played under the tamarind tree,

Young pair of lovers indulged in romantic  songs,

While some others  rocked the cradles with sleeping

Babies, awaiting hot lunch in packs plantain leaves.              

I go back and think of Golden  Ages, when our

Grandparents  voicing from high hills and mountains

Echoing their cultural grit ever watching us:

I want to relive those  Golden  Age.

A fantastic journey

A fantastic journey

You  came to us , after cozy

Imprisonment in mother’s

Smoothly walled chambers,

 Full-blown after ten months

Or premature  as in some cases;

Could you float  and see albumen and blood?

me also, poised  in the same question,

the tough passage was for mother

an ordeal and  indescribable rebirth for both ;

not a  ghost from tomorrow, but make

and remake of  recent and  yesteryears’

glue and  picture kicking out of the  chamber.

Oblivious of the hazards of outside world.

You are galloping from timeless and silence

To cacophony and  disporder,where life is

A null and chaos and cutthroat competition.

A world where life is only a   shadow and unreal.

Wondering at the creation and wonder is not the word.

Before and after--- the burial ground

Before and after---  the burial ground

Life’s  pristine journey

begins swift as bee, buzzing  round,

for the sane and genuine grieving

 only in burial ground;

 Moments  of glamour and gloom,

like the waning and waxing

 Of anything materialistic- it is

  the  stagnant  water -previous show;

 what is the kernel in this body?

  What is the soul hiding, where,

 In the mega project of flesh and sin

 Not knowing the Unreachable.  

   A little ganga water purifying,

   Only our exterior, our thaw less

  still ruminating  the  events  leading

   to our bathos and perfunctory roll.

    Aftermath of revel and rebel

    mad  rush for attorney and property,

     signing and  countersigning

   shadowing all our efficacious deals;

Love! Never lose hope

  Love! never lose hope

Ever since  His creation, Love is the

Dome on which many sat and  dreamt

to breed and glow,despite  opposition;

respite and  discard and  for many

it grows to munificent heights.

There are many ways to branch off,

Suspicion and  anger and  bliss

hamper   to  distract and  quell

our mood  of lure and care; yet

love blossoms when right choice

delights and gives no room for

doubt or uncanny apprehension.

His wings are pure  as Dove’s

Fancy in flights high and sustained

Joy reveling in lasting  faith.  Let us

Please him, catch him, hold him

Until he flies saturated with wings

To untold bliss of heaven

Calabash’ A clash of ideas

‘Calabash’      A clash of ideas

What do you think of God’s creation?

  Very first creation? A succulent orange

Plump apple or fig covered by leaves?

A rosy pot of luck or white  jasmine in

the garden  permeating fragrance?

The  first man was out of stick and mud,

Fashioned according to his full fledged

design and  care and caution. But  Man

described him as “ shoddy bricolage”

expressed a  peculiar desire he wanted

a man to befriend with .A calabash was

the ultimate choice, God would have

certainly been bemused at Man’s requisite

beyond explanation or solution. Original

mud and stick and roundness  now, what a

contrast in ideas? God is bewildered now;  

but man and woman -all the more in  a state

of stupor, decision less moments. What we

do call this?

SWAN

Here  is  my white swan

Sweet and beautiful,

Cute  like a  doll curled

Yet full of  zest. Again

 ever   a   prided pleasure

to watch young cygnets:

flying high, close to the  water,

I wonder if swans play jugglery;

Cant construe if whistling is warning

A peculiar throb  of its vibration.

 A  music I hear but not a premonition

 Of death. A music prolonging  

to  a life time memory and logo .

Oh! My swan, my boon!

Paradise lost book Two - Satan’s move on the go

Paradise  lost  book Two -   Satan’s   move  diabolical on the go.- 

Angels’  talk, which could not be relished by  Satan;

He was  quiet, a  little while, but being a  seasoned

Politician and expert in maneuvering things, looked

Around  to proceed  his  lecture. Satan is glad his sea

Should find  a shore  springing alacrity ; shocking rude

Elements  on all sides though unmanageable. Life’s path

Is equally endangered as between    Charybdis  ally ;

Man ‘s fall is Satan’s  bliss and boon. Waiting for more

 Chances  to nullify man’s hope and  thwart GOD’S WILL.

Chaos and pandemonium and parasites, siding the evil

Prevail the  chosen spot where Satan now reigns. God’s

Plan if be benign and constructive, Satan’s plan  malign

And destructive, yet would not yield. This world  of multi

Special creations and  carve of divergent  Nature, Satan

Always aimed to turn against God. He always rules in his

Mischievous  orb. We have to live and  endure in this

Universe of  mystery and  mischief and venom  with a

Wary eye on the evil mongers and poisonous asps

Ready to sting and on  and on.

Takes after (Guardian Lavernock by Saunders Lewis

After  life's adversities...

Sea and  sky, song and  shore,

We  lie and chat on the pebbles’ shore,

Skylark’s swoop and song

Ringing like a  prophetic note,

Through the ascension, we merge

coil along  the Beauty of the Universe.

We think of the past, present and future,

get annoyed by the pitfalls of life,

 hoping life would be better, wished

life could have taken us through  safe

moorings and  ended in river valley of

blessed spot. But now all in divergent shapes,

praying  The Almighty that Life would  steer

into a  calm and steady sail. What wealth remains

after all turbulence and adversities?

Only moors and sandy shores,

Skylark descending slow into a

lifeless empty  passage.