Power of Time

Slumberous time awakens

Straightening wrinkles of yore

Unleashing magical journey

Marooned at some doorpost

Shining diamond missed then

Brings forth beatitude a plenty

Power of time rattles soul

Glowing flame to dying lamp

What does she treasure now?

You or your candied thoughts? 

Sometimes

Sometimes we sail but sometimes we fall instead

Sometimes we are hunted but sometimes we hurt instead

Sometimes we seize but sometimes we liberate instead

Sometimes it smoulders but sometimes it smothers instead

Sometimes it lasts but sometimes it ceases instead

Sometimes its rain but sometimes its wait instead

Sometimes its life but sometimes its memory instead

My very Own

Mouth-watering paranthas simmering on the flaming tawa. Reanimating tea brewing in the pan. Silken voice of newsreader from radio on the ebony wooden shelf. Amber newspaper pages fluttering on the varnished cane table basking in the morning sun. And you watering the cuddly plants in your alluring garden. Smiling at the freshly ventilated buds sneaking through the green hoods. The sweet aroma of the lemon tree standing tall in the middle guarding the nearby naughty dahlias. Fresh mint caressing the scarlet demure tomatoes every now and then. And you whistling your favourite song carelessly oblivious of the happiness and melody being transpired to the passers-by on the bitumen road. Browns, oranges, yellows, greys, blacks, whites, all catching a slice of life from your sprite and frolic. Dork phone ringing on the resolute dining table. Your resonance at the other end meant breath, joy, peace and life.

Your words only silence now. Rivers emptying into oceans. Jabbering with you took solace in meditation. Your words sometimes meet the eye in paragraphs of a scripture. Your smiles reflected only through the clouds. Your peace transforming into restlessness. Meeting you only through the morning mirror. And your prankster sprouting into a combatant warrior. 

Two-step Dance

Several streams jive into the reticent auditorium of the Ocean. Each contributing her snippet steps to the preponderant Ballad. But its her only her recherché footsteps that the ocean longs to be felt on the pith of his lonely heart. She too lay her feet on myriad waters but its only when she loses her embodiment to his musical beat that she experiences wholesomeness. Her impish waters somehow find home only in his distant embrace. His tidal beats somehow find bliss only in her deep dancing urn. And the shores croon in ecstasy as the white cranes flutter stirringly across the blue cosseting sky. Reverberating the conundrum of ethereal life into enraptured frolic.

Hole in the sky

All smiles and all tears

All childhood and all innocence

All peace and all love

All candle and all flame

Lost through

The hole in the sky

All dreams and all visions

All run and all walk

All trees and all grass

All wind and all breath

Lost through

The hole in the sky

All words and all sentences

All rainbow and all roses

All threads and all music

All blue and all red

Lost through

The hole in the sky

All laughter and all heart

All kings and all suns

All rain and all joy

All connections and all paragraphs

Found through

The hole in the sky

All death and all life

All scriptures and all meaning

All beginning and all end

All blessing and all disguise

Found through

The hole in the sky

All darkness and all light

All fear and all hope

All weakness and all strength

All Gods and all demons

All beasts and all humans

All yours and all mine

Found through

The hole in the sky

Esoteric

Parched land doesn't lodge request

            And the skies shower beatitude

            Scorched gravel never sheds sweat

            And the winds sweep aplomb

            Night doesn't extend an invite

            And the moon comes to dine

            Woods don’t weep of loneliness

And the squirrels come playing

She doesn't raise a teary eyelid

And you manifest as seraphic being

Why not?

When these streets can exchange her smiles

When these trees can absorb her breath

When these walls can hug her tears

When these corridors can echo her laughter

Why not you?

When these stones can capture her hurt

When these birds can transpire her sobs

When these clouds can display her moods

When these stars can reflect her dreams

Why not you?

When these words can understand her silence

When these eyes can hide her fears

When these cheeks can wear her mask

When these bones can hold her frailty

Why not you?

When the winds can take her burden

When the sun can shimmer her desires

When the night can hold her stumbles

When the morning can lend her hope

Why not you?

Why not?

The Lost

The lost

Song found music in Cuckoo

Emotions found solace in Smiles

Candle found warmth in his Eyes

Family found its pulse in Home

God found its meaning in Prayers

The lost

Me found myself in You

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…

In Him

Frolicked rivetingly to his acoustic

Hummed insanely his verse

Gaped fondly at his portrait

Harkened fervently to his words

Soaked happy rain in his arms

Breathed peace in his breath

Embraced proximity in his distance

Experienced temple in his soul

Night

She sauntered in thicket among apparitions

As night grew mysterious, brooding and empty

He scorched his skin ferally among laden clouds

To let her nestle her distant nimble moon 

Consent

How he silently kept crafting her

Without her consent even once

To shine like a diamond endlessly

While being in imperial darkness

Calmly warming her lifeless soul

Where all pain melted in a gush

Filling her with hues unknown

Splashing every nerve with smiles

That were long forgotten and gone

Returned like lost children to homes

How he silently kept arming her

To face stifles like an exotic warrior

 How he silently kept crafting her

Without her consent even once

Conversations-11

She kept lighting the candles one after another because the night was long and dark. She kept consuming all the matches in the box because the winter was cold and ruthless. She often lifted the flickering candle to the sky hopefully but could not catch the glimpse of her Sun again. Stars there were many but Sun, there was none. But her path demanded some light as the journey was arduous and lonely. The candles were nearing end and the stars were benign.

And the Sun had set behind the hills…..

All of Some

All filled with oceans

Some deeper than others

All marked by wounds

Some raw than others

All teeming with streams

Some treacherous than others

All ravaged by memories

Some simmering than others

All breathless by breathing

Some lifeless than others

All shaken by consequences

Some dire than others

All feeding the devil

Some savage than others

Conversations-10

Wanting to give away some of her. A little of her, at least. But who would take her. Was she so incapable of even giving and being accepted? Would no one ever take her?

And then he came. He came and took her away. All of her. He did not spare even a morsel of her for her. With nothing left of her she felt so complete. And she kept gazing at him like a dove would stare at Apollo. Dumb faced, numb, lightening struck.

But what if he gives her back to her? Even a morsel of her to her. How will she put her pieces together? She is no more what she always thought she was. Will she be able to put the pieces perfect? Will the old returned pieces form the new picture that he had turned her into?

The Earth kept singing the song that the Moon helped her croon through the delectable night….

Forgetting

Touching yet forgetting to feel

Talking yet forgetting to speak

Walking yet forgetting to move

Laughing yet forgetting to smile

Inhaling yet forgetting to absorb

Caring yet forgetting to love

Breathing yet forgetting to live 

Being yet forgetting to be

Root

In all randomness he is consistency

In all fear her strength

In all strangeness he is known

In all confusion her composure

In all pain he is wellness

In all storm her calm

In all obscurity he is lucidity

In all mourning her song

In all death he is life

In all trivia her root

And

In all body her only soul

Beyond

\

Courageously she stood there

Braving the strong winds

Painfully watching her petals

Splitting her soul one after another

Absorbing coldness of snow clad hills

Weathering cruel heartless winters

And then Sun shone bright

Beyond all her hopes

Surprisingly she stood there

Fearing the cozy breeze

Apprehensively watching her petals return

Brimming her soul one after another

Sacred Space

Her sacred space

No more in her words but in your silence

No more in her vision but in your feel

No more in her reach but in your thoughts

No more in her proximity but in your distance

No more in her sky but in your water

No more in her temple but in you

Her sacred space that she visits often

Desire

To,

Hold you now

Liberate then,

Own you now

Disown then,

Belong to you now

Un-belong then,

Heal you now

Wound then,

Miss you now

Ignore then,

Be you now

Nothing then…

To be,

Your light in your darkness

Your path in your wandering

Your music in your dance

Your lyrics in your song

Your patience in your tests

Your humility in your victory

Your strength in your distress

Your solace in your storm

Your hug in your tears

Your voice in your silence

You in your loneliness

Your soul in your journey

Game Of Wits

Been so many eons. So many roles. So many stages. So many masks. So many lights and so many darknesses. Indoctrinated to pick the bag up and keep moving. Walking past thirsty streams. The fragile unheard mountains that seem so insufficient to tell tales. The entranced nightingales in the jungle that beckon to you to hear the song resonating in your blood. The lost blue skies that challenge your limits. And we keep doing it. All of us. All of it. Winter after winter. Night after night. Without knowing why we do it and many times even how we do it. Surprising others and astonishing ourselves of the lifeless lives we live. Every breath, every heart beat. Inching us closer to the abyss we circumvent. The harder we endeavour to run away from the void, the closer we seem to get.

The streams fail to quench our thirst but often reflect our images. The broken pieces of our picture. The lost parts of our machine. Tempt us to gaze at the reflection one more time, everytime. And everytime we do that entice us to touch it, feel it, talk to it. Ask where it has been wandering all this time? Did it never feel the need to need us? Will it stay with us forever now?

Again we make the mistake we have been committing through this arduous journey. Mistake of wanting to talk to it. Mistake of wanting to meet it. Mistake of wanting to hear it. Mistake of wanting to read it. But this time not repeating one mistake. Of holding it back. Of trying to possess it. Of trying to tie it down. Though unseen strings seem to be stronger than any visible to the human eye.

Why is it so difficult to accept that all are flickering the same flame of one sun. exuding the same milk-fragrance of one mother, exhibiting the same energies of the one cosmos, same undying search for something we don’t know, all waiting for that magician to cast its spell and dazzle us. That tussle of few restraining others and yet some more few trying to release ourselves of all bonds fearing that such threads will cripple us. But do such yarns weaken us? Don’t they prove to be a source of infinite strength?

It’s all a ‘Game of wits’. A game where misconceptions, deceit, lies, stabbing are found in plethora. But then that’s where a King is sifted from the Nobles. Because only a King, a Warrior of the light is gifted with a third eye to differentiate a fox from a Horse.

A Warrior knows that a real Horse will never suffocate her own reflection. Will set it free for she knows that setting it free will free her as well. Seeing her reflection reach higher planes makes her experience quintessential peace and serenity, not an easy task to accomplish by all means. And that unburdens her of the debts of this journey. Attracting the pieces of her soul back to her. Forever…

Still As If

Sometimes you have to leave things aside and pretend to ignore them. Not because you want to but because there is nothing much you can do. As if you cant see them, hear them, feel them. As if they can’t see you, hear you, feel you, breathe you, live you. It’s something like a flower. You have had enough of appreciating it’s colour. Now you want to see it in another form. Say become a fragrance, a perfume. And keep faith that when you return your attention to it after a while, you find it in exactly the same form as you expected. As you wanted and hoped. You have to keep faith that time will not disappoint you. That it will get better and not worsen. That you will be greeted with happiness when you go back to the fold, tired, weathered, ruffled, broken and exhausted. In the hope that things have improved. That even with the transformation the perfume still holds the earlier essence of the flower. That you can still connect with the smell. That its fragrance still reminds you of its once deep colour. That it still has the same effect of gratifying your conscious and sub-conscious. That it still appeals to your inner spirit. That it still enslaves your spirit and keeps you yearning for more, more than ever before. That it still makes you forget the mundane and still draws you towards a sublime existence. That it still has the power to introduce you to your once lost self. Like no one else… That you still find your earlier self waiting for you gazing stark into your dry eyes…

As if only you can see it, hear it, feel it. As if only it can see you, hear you, feel you, breathe you, live you….

Jar

You see that bright shining star

Close enough though looks so far

Holds colourful and glittery jar

Containing Old unhealed scar,

Scar that gives pain and memories

Of forgotten times in histories

Remind of the bonds ever shared

Those now seem somehow glared.

Mine as Well

The lily that blossoms in your flesh

The wound that seethes in your heart

The throb that stings in your nights

The song that pounds in your veins

The rebel that defies in your nerves

The strife that brawls in your soul

Is not just yours

But mine as well

A Spell

A Spell so unique

It never repeats

A Spell so warm

It melts your norms

A Spell so stark

It braces your roots

A Spell so magical

It turns your world around

A Spell so anchored

It never leaves

A Spell so formidable

It leads to your soul

A Spell so binding

It unites with your source

A Spell so staunch

It’s all that you ever want

Wake Up

When fire goes out, you feel the cold

When air recedes, you feel the torment

When light dims, you feel the darkness

When hand withdraws, you feel the pain

When freedom cringes, you feel the cage

When pond depletes, you feel the thirst

When reflection transits, you feel the span

And You suddenly wake up whether you want to or not…

Abetting

Abetting her glimpse when vision cheated her

Abetting her lilt when music abandoned her

Abetting her prevail when faith dejected her

Abetting her tread when trail ostracised her

Abetting her whistle when lyrics disappointed her

Abetting her breathe when breath resisted her

Abetting her live when life renounced her

On the

Careless whisper on the silent pillow

Breathless flame on the smoking wick

Wild lilies on the tamed highway

Flickering thoughts on the drifting night

The Catch

Clenching eyes to behold vividly

Embracing quiet to be heard vociferously

Cloaking dimly to be revealed radiantly

Taking refuge in night to appreciate day

Restraining storm to enjoy rain

Standing still to feel the motion

Reading silence to endure noise

Seeking solitude to avoid seclusion

Staying farthest to get closest

Teardrop

“I know you've had enough hurt. I know you just want a palm-full of happiness now. But, but I got so used to the warmth of your moistened breath. Cant, don’t want to leave you! And every time I seek for your velvet touch I end up wounding you further, unconsciously. My desire for a little peck on your cheeks makes you morbid. Seldom have we met in happiness. Seldom will us ever. That’s our curse!”

Sobbed a tearful teardrop to her dame.

Prodigious

Reticent azure sky and vast cerulean swirling sea

Genial soothing breeze and tempestuous sharp breath

Acrid warm tears and saccharine frosty flowing stream

Hot blazing scarlet Sun and warm bleeding red nerves

Transient wandering timid mind and calm serene sturdy soul 

Deep Down

Questions in mind, questions on the skin

Perpetual struggle to defeat the doubts

How is this possible? And why not that?

Wandering through the infinite maze,

Searching for the expected answers

Scratching surface for disappointment

Silencing echo inside hitting the walls

Reply embedded in query and suspicion,

Dilemma arose as clarity kept knocking

Light secretly hidden in vaults of darkness

Peace and vindication found not outside

But deep down here and within….

Conversations-10

And she ran away to a place ‘no where’. Where no one knew her and she knew no body, not a single leaf not a single soul. Ran away leaving all pain behind, all memories, all love and all losses in an effort to create her own world. Her very own where she had her own mountains playing her melodies, her own streams singing her song, her own gulmohar blossoming her flowers, her own squirrels playing her pranks, her own feelings assuaging her emotions and her own Gods heeding to her prayers..

And here Gods gave her you, her own reflection. Something she had never expected but unconsciously strongly desired deep down in her wounded soul. And then she fears….What does she do now? With you? With herself? Run again or stay? Push away or just receive? Feign or be honest? With you, with herself….?

Conversations-9

Is water ever enough for the parched land? One rainy season can never suffice the un-quenched thirst of mud. It needs repeated showers on the inside vaults of its bosom though it may have loved one season more than the others.

He may cherish her in all probability more than the other interests but then she knows that she can never be enough for him. She can always feign discomfort and distance can be her biggest savior. Once that diminishes, she will be rampaged by her own desires, cheated by her own thoughts, annihilated by her own self.

 Let him drench in the drops of other rains. She was in blithe to be a whiff of gentle tranquilizing breeze on his tired shoulders and contused soul.

Nothing Concealed

Not everything we strive to hide can be concealed

The tighter we shove it, harder lid opens up

The darker we paint it, brighter picture gets

The stronger we cage it, more fiercely wings spread

The wilder we hold it, more sprightly stream flows

Severely we silence it, louder that little voice gets

Insanely we falsify it, truer that intuition turns

Ferociously we restrain it, more viciously emotions blaze

Nothing that we ever strive to hide can be concealed

If You

If you make her smirk, she doesn’t care if everyone else gives tears

If you take notice of her, she doesn’t care if everyone else ignores

If you remember her, she doesn’t care if everyone else forgets

If you saunter her garden, she doesn’t care if everyone else omits

If you let her to occupy your thoughts, she doesn’t care if that makes her go dizzy

If you let her to breathe you, she doesn’t care if that makes her smell of you

If you let her to sing you, she doesn’t care if that makes her echo you

If you let her to drink you, she doesn’t care if that makes her go tipsy

If you make her to hear your heart beat, she doesn’t care if everyone else doesn’t

If you make her to play your melody, she doesn’t care if everyone else doesn’t

If you let her to chant you, she doesn’t care if everyone else doesn’t

If you let her to belong to your soul, she doesn’t care if everyone else doesn’t

Reflection

Flower wants valley to remember, Moon wants sky. Stream wants mountain to remember, Rain wants desert. Shore wants sea to remember, Flame wants dark.

That she stood there. He existed for her like no one else did. Like she had never existed before. As breath for life, as elixir for pain. As a recurring thought that keeps one awake at night. He came placidly from nowhere and dismantled her pieces.  Then putting her together into someone she most recognized, his very own reflection.

Will he remember this, all this? 

The Knot

Shadows stalk in the arcane

Fetching angst and doubts,

Can’t make up my mind

To open sack or keep butterflies,

River beckons with every spurt

To flow wherever it takes,

      Sun glints within blazingly

Can’t bury myself for long,

It all looks tied up ineptly

Still,

Don’t want to loosen the knot. 

And Yet we smile

The seas that rock the boats to annihilation flow in our veins as blood. The same mud that smudges the knees of pristine toddler shapes flesh of his delicate body. The whole tribe belongs to us but none around in need. The eye is favored to look at the world but fails miserably to see. The air that deflects the trail of camel caravans in the desert ordains the flow of our life as breath in our sinews. The fire that pulverizes the palaces and houses is the spirit of our life. The ears to hear but can hardly listen. The tongue to speak but fumbles often to say. The skies that threaten the sheep as lightening protect us as almighty. The hand that stabs our back holds us as friends. The brain to ponder but refuses to think. The heart to pump blood and make existence facile but makes it even more arduous. The love that gives immense pain offers smiles in our loneliness.

How many miles?

How many miles does pigeon glide before it becomes eagle?

How many seas does boat rove before it claims to be ship?

How many arrows does chest endure before it becomes warrior?

How many nights does earth imbibe before she witnesses sunshine?

How many paths does man tread before he becomes monk?

How many times does one fall before she learns to walk?

How many storms does bush brave before it becomes wood?

How many trials does friend transcend to become mate?

How many aches does she soak before she becomes you?