Nebula

A circle. Inevitable, recurring, keeps nudging every now and then. Stranger, unknown, never met before. Known, met before, lovable. But returning. Dark, hazy, smoky. Staring right from behind the boughs. Scary yet desperately attempting to connect as if to say something. White, shiny, diamonds. Smiling right on the visage. Not scary yet again desperately attempting to connect as if to say something.

Yes, she heard you the very first time. Though she was a little shaken to make herself believe that it was you. But heard she did. And then second time too. She heard you loud and clear. And felt as well. But why second time? Was once not enough?

This unknown, first time feeling trembles her. Wakes her up every time you connect. A mixed confused experience. Incomprehensible. Sometimes asking, sometimes thanking. Indispensable guidance at every step. What is the message that you carry from one sphere to another? Why so much effort? So much travel?

Why her?

Awoke. Sensitised. Super normalised. Numbed. Startled. Confounded. Lifted… 

Conversations-12

“And he too, naively believed that those she talked to, giggled with, stayed in her mind and heart. Little did he realise how much she yearned to talk to and giggle with him. To witness the unfolding of mysteries of fleeting time with him. How fearfully she had kept him hidden from them and him, like a life bearing secret breath in the deep cavern of her soul…The cavern that she sojourned every lonely night with her dying self to stay alive and for once feel him.”

Whispered the Mayena to the Pigeon staring at the severed Moon and the Earth…

Search

Shovelled for you

Over wise hills, in mysterious valleys

On echoing bank, in groping woods

Over loaded shelf, in blossoming garden

On silent terrace, in opaque corridor

Over mushy carpet, in glutted cupboard

On glazed table, in cold-hearted fridge.

But found you

Over simmering skin, in altruistic palm

On pulsating beat, in sacred mind

Over throbbing heart, in ethereal eyes

On discarnate soul, in vocal breath

Over azure vault, in divine flame

On holy chant, in asomatous inside

Only You

No one could,

Seize her confused words

And her clarion silence

Retain her nimble hands

And her salty cheeks

Fondle her slender breath

And simmer her icy blood

Occupy her wandering thoughts

And her slivered heart

Offer her a comely mind

And boisterous laughter

Shelter her homeless dreams

And her splintered prayers

Like you did…

Winds-2

Propitious winds whisked from yonder land

Consorting extricating wizardry with them

Fabricating rosy surges in the placid lake

Drifting desolation to sequestered shores

Floretting roseate lilies of hope in the soul

Colors

Red toys from bountiful cradle
Rainbow footballs from school playground
Brown swings from chirpy parks
Grin back at the gray mirror
Sweaty images from yellow noons
Of pink affection and ancestral love
Fading into purple eternity
White palms overflowing
With sky-full of blue empty-ness 

Spin

Skies snivel when Land is ripped

Birds chirp but Woods whimper

Leaves ebb and Gulmohar bleeds

Tempest in Moon Ocean can’t sleep

Specter

Her…

Sun renewing her frailty with rugged nerve

Moon poising by her on cloudy vault

Rain silently washing her somber tears

Wind applying balm on her flinty bruises

Flower gifting her indulgent smiles

Ark sailing her daintily past every gale

Winds

Winds travailing lonely icicles of distant summit
Caressing the warm lap of motherly valley
Carry the hues of virgin serene pink lilies
Over the pensive motion of mature streams
Embracing the ostracized rebel blood
Inching flawed mortal mud
To its impeccable immortal roots

Wild Flowers

Perception of wild flowers

Playing truant with green weeds,

Reflection in girlish stream

Ushering conception of emotions,

Rejection of doubts enwrapping bank

Mirroring deception of moon within

The Ebony Window

Ebony window, two big flaps holding the glasses that became tinted from the dust and grime of several years. Steel handles, half rusted, half still grayish silver. When gazed intensively one could also notice a wire mesh on the inner frame. The square damaged gaps in the mesh beaming with the soot of the nearby township. Though a window yet it provided no access to the inside view of the room. Even if one endeavored to look inside hard, one could only catch the sight of greenish brownish octa-legged round headed spiders playing around in their field of cob webs.

                The deserted once upon a library all embraced by wild yellow white flowers with blue purple butterflies, yet the passers-by could never ignore the window. There was something mystical about its smell. Its chipped paint and broken plastered edges seemed to have safely hidden innumerable untold, unheard stories in their bosom. A story if narrated would bring an insurmountable storm that may cause many a garden in the paradise to flutter.

                But the window always looked serene. A picture of happiness and pleasant soothing thoughts as if conversing with all that passed by her. As if had made up her mind to spread peace and tranquility. As if providing rest to all in her shade before they moved ahead in their long arduous journey. And whosoever looked at her said that they saw their reflection in her eye-like glasses. Some exchanged words, others their silence. But the decrepit window imbibed all and understood some. The strong winds often forced opening her. But she stood there. Determined, strong, smiling and composed. The Ebony window…