Story

Fast paced road, Frail footsteps

Strong gusts of wind, Withered wings

Imminent darkness, Flickering candle

Devilish whip, Effete flesh

Boiling blood, Wax nerves

Stormy sea, Tattered mast

Tough Almighty, Faltering prayers

Mid Summer

If no grain then why this hunger?

If no drop then why this thirst?

If there is no road then why this journey?

If there is no balm then why this hurt?

If no words then why this conversation?

If no answers then why these questions?

If there is no moon then why this night?

If there is no sky then why these wings?

If there is no rose then why these thorns?

If there is no shoulder then why these tears?

If there is no saviour then why this storm?

If there is no companion then why this loneliness?

Finally

Finally,

Autumn ceased with sprouting leaves

Wet eyes paved inroads for gleaming smiles

Harsh sun ushered in soothing rains

Parched lands renewed with tender harvest

Dark tunnels shimmered with holy light

Finally,

Silence broke with soulful words

Doubts culminated into breathing hope

Stillness rejoiced with frenzied dance

Faulty blindness faded with clear vision

Loneliness blossomed with togetherness

Safari

Lying on languid grass under the tree

Watching the nearby streams hum

Grasshopper hopping over bushes

Cricket singing in lost wilderness

Why the urge to get up and ploy?

Why to lift the bag and hit road?

To head for the ruthless city

To give up peace for deafening life

Counting drops melt from candle

Listening to tangy stories of stars

Breathing scarlet roses in backyard

Rhododendrons swaying with Gulmohar

But far off land sheepishly harks

To return where it all starts

Chase waves again on longish seas

Till ship embarks on placid shores

July Tale

When the petals fell apart

Cusp clenched Rose together        

Shores braced drops warm               

As waves ebbed in reflux

When the dove fumbled                             

Moon succoured with lyrics

Winds wiped them awash

As grass sweated in sun

When clouds floundered in dim

Stars glistened purlieu stark

You wove her tussore texture

As she lost her notched yarn      

Box

Who is it that speaks to us and we want to hear?

What is it that we can’t listen what it wants to say?

Who is it that perplexes us as the words display?

What is it that we want to do but can’t undertake?

Who is it that we want to feel yet cant grip?

What is it that we want to see but can’t gaze?

Who is it that we want to push yet want to stay?

Fly

You fly. You do. Have seen you flapping your enormous pristine glossy wings over the azure on the hills. From where the view is breath taking. Every single thing looks the same. Everything looks minuscule, tiny. So tiny that it can be espoused. That it can be held between arms. That it can be captured in the immaculate lens of the magical eye. All things red or yellow, cold or warm, soft or rough, weak or tough seem to melt in the heat of your intense rays. If all melt then why do some images re-reflect in the mirror? Days, weeks, months, years, even decades later…

Mirror that was long lost in the battle field. Assumed to be trampled under the heavy foot of mammoth. But it shines once again when the clouds get overcast. When the dark waters from the fringe inundate. When the spirit refuses to wake. Suddenly giving hope of the sun tomorrow. Of the seed emerging as sapling. Of the broken pieces coming together.

But you fly. You do. And again you will. Over the lush green valleys. Over the singing streams. And where will the mirror go? Fly away with you or stay in the closet this time? Forever…