To be continued...

                                                 IIT Kanpur convocation (Year 2012)

I came to the end
Still looking,
For the symmetry
As in seventy-seven,
Deciding to stand
My epitaph,
“To be continued…”
At the mirror front,
Looking through, far
Beyond hope and past,
Doors now open
For me to see,
Buildings, deep inside
Of a ‘Brave new world’,
Allow me to leave
Without a promise, of return.

Still I fear

                                                                      

                                                                                   Arusha, Tanzania (Year 2012)

The end of a journey
Could be here
Still I fear
When you are near
I rather not reach
For I will not leave
When you have returned
Because I fear
The inside of me
My wishes be
True, I could keep
Unfinished, till the very end
What I set out, to do
All will follow
And you would too
Remember, where I had gone
But I fear
If you will hear
To meet and cheer
When you are near
A cluttered life is
Not what I cherish
But still, I fear
The emptiness of mind 

If you are near.

To my mother

                                                                                   Bangalore, August-2011

With the falling of dusk
She would match,
A fresh cotton dress
She had carefully unwrapped;

In front of the mirror
Then she would sit,
Powdering her face
And then lipstick;

As we gathered, all around her
For that spray of familiar fragrance,
She was up, ready to go
Where to, no one knew;

She would talk
Of neighbours and then,
Children with all their
Successful acquaintance;

It mattered little
We listened or giggled,
With burst of energy, she could mean
A minor revolt all by herself;

We had grown accustomed to her
Her misgivings, her manners,
Curious she was, of all the things
Agreeable or not, with her opinion;

She did not let go, till her very end
Anything, anytime, or anyone,
All but some, could realise
Her youth in age, had turned;

Now I sit and read
The verses she would write,
With such serenity and poise,
Gifted only, to the saintly wise.

(Coincidentally found that Edgar Allen Poe too had a similarly titled poem; If you are here, do not go away without reading 'The Raven' by Edgar Allen Poe and 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' by T.S. Eliot, two of my all time favorites; thank you.)

All the same

                                                            

                                             Outside the Guest House of IISc, Bangalore

Nothing changed
What was the fuss
I wonder
The nervousness
The dark clouds
All cleared
Without so much
As a noise
All the same
Yesterday and today
Big confessions
A flurry of congratulations
Vanished, no later
Than the day break
Why did the night, then
Weigh so heavy
And the thunder, in vain
Came and went, noticed
By none;
He sat in the chair
As usual
It was, just
Another day
Clear skies
Unrecognized smiles
Showed no signs
Of the struggle
That was past
The honest attempts
And the lessons taught
Well maintained accounts
Of no dues
Forgotten family
Reunions few
Could not take
The discipline away
Of a simple life, turned
Into shades of Grey.

The pilgrimage

                    

It was sudden
Where did the pond go?
And the lilies, dressing up as usual
Did not seem to mind it either;

I had taken the wrong turn
In hope, of excitement
But not this, I could never like it
We had met here, so very often; 

I let go, of my childhood
Open fields, filled with music
In the night chill, food and tit-bits
Adamant and impulsive;

I enjoy, silence now
With the prayer flags, all there
Quiet and cold
Only the prayer wheels turn;

And the monasteries, do not object
To this, the underage pilgrimage. 

(Remembering our trip, with Atish-Anish-Akash, to Pelling and the sacred Khecheopalri lake, a “wish fulfilling lake”, on our 25^th marriage anniversary)

If the war is over

                                                     Elephant skull (Arusha, Tanzania- 2012)


If the war is over

They will be leaving tonight
For now words don’t matter
Play the music high;
The stories of blood and tears
Among the commercial breaks
Whose freedom and whose adventure
We shall never find;
When time is but agony and wait
Preparing for the worst
In hope of best
I stay in, in the bed;
Trespassing is prohibited
But if I could make
I would certainly change
That one sign of ugly fate.

(Remembering Satwik Shastri (23) who was reportedly killed in a tusker attack at the Bannerghatta National Park last weekend.)

In anticipation of a storm

                                                                 Yellow Stone (Year 2011)

The silence descended
Every moment of the wait
It grew darker, by the hour
Everyday
The noises subsided
But the phone did not ring
And the letter
It never came.

The weekend blues

                                                           Camping in Monterey (Year 2012)

The child lifted his arms
The mother picked him
As she continued, briskly
Along the pavement
Of a busy street;
It was a new morning, new week
After the careless musings
And the idle dreams
Thoughts had no place
Within the daily routine;
The trees continued
When it stopped to rain
The branches grew, high
Leaving the fragrance behind
The hangouts were refreshing, but few;

Just the same, they were gone, the weekend blues.

The flight

                                                              Juelich in 2009

Father came to help, downstairs
Slowly, making place
For the celebrations
Due to end, tonight;
Was it a dream, thought I
At day break, all quiet
Not even a whisper
But he was there, alright;
Do not be afraid
And do not despair
The voice repeated
I shall stay, if you will find;
The directions were simple
And the movements brave
Alas, the windings did not stop
Until, the foot of the flight.

Sunshine

                                                                   Juelich zoo (Year 2009)

I thought, and smiled,
The bright Blue had come back
With silvery dots,
And my favourite Yellow
Too was on its way,
It was a long journey though;

I had not missed much,
There is more now, then
What it is that I thought,
In the rush how I forgot,
More and more of what, when
Colours never fade;

Moments flew past, the shining trails,
Images came by, only in flashes,
I tried hard, yet,
The picture to complete, escaped,
With its shadow
Under the sunshine, now I wait.

Freedom

The incessant rumblings of mind,
Denial and self-destruction,
Travails to freedom,
Beginning of consciousness and its end;

Mediocrity at par with excellence,
Wasted lives in attempt of realization,
And attainment, hanging in the middle,
Of meditation, without return;

I stay suffering, to free myself,
From the orders of this world,
The worst of the fears,
In sickness or health, in life and birth.

In the name of truth

 

I crave for colours
Splashed bright and deep
In a manner of an artist;

Freedom to run riots
That promise to end the misery
Unspoken, and full of guilt;

Raw intelligence and
Beautifully carved discussions
Alongside, the high dinner table;

Lovers and mistresses
Their intimate meetings
Tears and good-byes;

All,
In the name of truth,
And holy.

Traveller

                                                                               Tanzania (Year 2012)

The lane ran
Winding past the stream,
Hiding and apprehensive
That the traveller may find;

Its good fortune
When it shall meet,
The farthest sunset, the sunrise
And follow it until.

Bringing back, life

                                                                                   Tanzania (Year 2012)

Dark as a shadow,
Breathing freshness of wild,
Draped in Black and Red,
She ran across, the racing cars
At the Green traffic light;

The Radio-one played,
A fast number followed by a retro track,
Can’t we be orderly, thought I,
Unhappy I could not message
The right answers that I have always had;

The metro arrived, as always,
With the dignity and purpose,
The station stood, new on a road
Made narrow with renovation in view,
All faces sombre, office goers and students alike;

I had reached, in time,
To start the day, and complete
Important business deliveries,
With a little difference
Of the smile, hauntingly white;

In dark, bringing back, life.

My journey

                                                                                 CAEN-2010

The chant is growing
And I cannot hear myself,
The glow comes, with
Increasing uneasiness;

I run the fields
Pretending to be green,
Or walk along, waters
And a clear beach;

The body rests
The mind wanders,
Who has come, who must go
Yet to be seen;

The ‘Gupt Godavari’ knows
Entrance is what it holds
Lying at the feet
Of a mountain peak;

I wish to think
No more,
Lest I witness my dreams
Turn Into ghosts.