When the winds blow in the mountains, they create a music with the river and leaves of deodar, oaks and pines. A man never thinks of poetry, but observes it, feels it. The words do not exist then, only music. The soul of the mountains one cannot capture in pages. I have only tried to write about the music, and a little more from elsewhere. Mountains send the winds to other places too.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Magical
It is magical with the bodies in love,
On the periphery of her curves
he creates giggles and goosebumps.
Free
With carefree feet, and happy hearts
we walk by the bends of Ganga
through the mountains and remote settlements
where we are pure, like she is.
We cry unstoppable our tears into Ganga.
Cities we live in, destroy, destroy us,
we walk by the bends of Ganga
with tearful eyes, and happy hearts.
Here we are pure, like she is.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
My Ecstasy
I see the tree growing with me
Papa planted it on my sixth birthday
I even named it, Elvin,
tiny, arms all around his body
my own pet monster of childhood.
With all the love that we shared
Elvin started outgrowing me
and soon, like a big brother
he started to protect me
in his branches, in tree house
from sun, rain, my loneliness and the world.
I smiled, laughed, danced
he stood admiring me, my happiness
and he would dance with all his arms
spread out, in my ecstasy.
Havoc
Havoc
Stop the games now, my baby,
come, hear the lullabies
it's time to sleep.
Listen to each word I sing
keep your head close to me
don't look around for my eyes
.......
it's too deep
it's time to sleep.
Tonight I will tell of the forest
where I played when I was your age
its not there anymore
...............
oh baby, what else you will miss
it's time to weep
it's time to sleep.
Sleep, my baby, sleep well tonight
see the dream that I dream for you..
I can't promise tomorrow's keep
it's time to sleep
.......
it's time to sleep.
Being Walnut
At the distances near and far
she tries to see,
A very random star of the moon
I am trying to be
For gloomy mornings
fog in her fingers she weaves,
Scent of the sadness
I hallucinate winter leaves
In the estranged forests
she wants to cut,
A very random star of the moon
I am being walnut.
Arunima
bikhar jaati hai jab duniya, to woh guldaan mein murjhaaye phool bhi ache lagne lagte hain. arunima un sookhe phoolon se hi khushiyaan banana seekh gayi thi. kabhi gaur se dekhoge to baazaar mein gajre milte hain jo arunima ne banaye they. log andekha kar dete hain.. simit si khushiyaan koi nahi chahta. arunima ek antheen nadi mein naav ki tarah ji rahi hai. aur ab toh kayi saal se barsaat bhi thik se nahi hui. jal star pe nirbhar khushiyaan kitne sookhe mausam bina toote rah sakti hain? main nahi jaanta. par maine use kareeb se guzarte dekha hai. ek hansi rahti hai arunima ke chehre par. shayad usse pata hai kitne mausam baaki hain.
Absence
She smiles and dances
to the music he plays
from a distance unmeasurable
by those who never loved.
In his absence,
she meets his dreams
Date: 7th Mar 2011
Reason
In the note that she left on the dining table
she did not mention the reason
for leaving him.
He stood there for long, holding the chair
then made himself a drink
and sat down to read it again.
He tore it neatly, four square pieces
finished his drink
and looked inside the glass at ice.
Then he stood for another glass
and while pouring JD over ice,
thought that she forgot the reason.
Date: 8th Mar 2011
Twelve
In his moments of affection
he brings her flowers from the wholesale market
a dozen of red roses she loves
and then gives her one at a time,
throughout the night.
He wonders between those flowers
how much each costed him
so he extracts the worth of love
almost like his daily wages.
She smiles 12 times in such nights.
Date: 7th Mar 2011
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