Friday, August 1, 2014

Shades of Blues

The torrential downpour
The muddy arroyo
The deluge 
No fence to drenching
No umbrellas to shelter

There, at the corner the sphinx stands un-bathed 
- Some bruises, some blues of pains
- Some blues redrawing the smile and some blues which rains 

Polluted to her own cause; 
Erect to her reason; 
She's whetted to her tear drop 

Love, 
She tabooed thy embrace, repulsed to the inching by; 
Unaware, yet, gave in to thou amorous hues
The moist verdant and the breezy blues

** Dedicated to the Blue-dom of Love 

Monday, July 7, 2014

Just be, my squash-bee

“I shall be back soon…  ” and …My squash-bee flew …
The zephyr careened
Torques and churns
Droning anticipations – “He would be back soon…”

The bubble bee who brushed by
And Honey bee, who took turns
Cravings longed - “He would be back soon…”

Wilted by the fohn, torn by the storm
Masqueraded to variegation
Fading hopes - “He would be back soon…”

Anemometer-ing…. The monsoons
I lie by the knell now
Vestigial  trace of his voice echo... “I shall be back soon…  ”



Wednesday, May 14, 2014

A tulip for the jasmine

A tulip, On your B'day, jasmine 

The Jasmine Flies

Bright lights promise for a new day 
Butterflies of any hues will soon fill this being 
It was light, happy, smooth 
Thy feet credit to ballerinas
Your heart just swells. 

But, Reality will knock 
Dark clouds coming 
swooping in
Dampen your sunny disposition 
The butterflies will hide 
Thy heart will fall down, in pain. 
The other face, the coward face 
Who knew once hurt, once pain 
Is the salt above the clouds.

Colors will be doomed before we ever see the next light. 
"Please hold on. Don't let go."
You wished. You prayed.


---- ------- --------
---------- -----------
----------- ----- ------

Benedictions, not Prayers !!!
An askance 
For extortion from the shell 
The umbrage of grief  

Granted !!!
A bit of Aposematism 
A pinch of Metamorphosis 
Just barter with the wings
and; Pause thy flutter 

The Sepulchre awaits....

(Acknowledgement to my friend, who lent her words and feelings to the first section and Obituaries, on her B'day, to my classmate, Jasmine Paul. As a feeling, it's emancipation to have felt together, for you, with you) 

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Equation of Equals

Some love rallied in the streets
Some love clutched to your collars
Some love got sold

There remained love, which, yet, were to be made

Some talks lay embarrassed by the threshold
Some talks await the bed-lamp switched off
Some talks, gets talked about

While, some punctuated love talks ... gradually fade 

What mattered to YOU and ME
.... (Lament) 'To be or not to be?' 

Latent calculations of Equals...huh!! 
 - Who reigns, What gains?
-  The quotient of love OR the Remainder to it? 
 - My gasps of endurance OR fair chance to your assurance? 

Shall myths fill ALL the blanks? 

Was wrong to your equation of love,strife and life? 
OR 
Blame my hypothesis ? - 'LOVE's' p-value is less than 0.05 ?!!





Sunday, May 4, 2014

the desert panorama

Vagabonding is a part of my profession, yet there are certain visits which touches ....more than the others. I was in Barmer, in western Rajasthan...around 75 Kms from the Thar Desert and about a 100 Km from the Pakistan Border. Going to Rajasthan is almost a fortnightly affair for me....but this time, in the bosom of nature, I was thrilled. It was stretches of sand spreading for miles and small shrubs of grasses which looked like porcupines getting ready for a frog race .......

Apart from this and a few stunted shrubs of babools there were no vegetation. sporadically you would see herds of sheep and camels craning out their necks to feed on the same. As far as the eye could go it was shades of yellow ochre and brown, stretches of sand and undulating sand dunes, rippled by the wind and with fading pugmarks of the camel.

Sporadically you would see igloo shaped huts, made of dried branches of a plant, which they locally call 'akhda' . I have seen similar plants, but it seemed that the desert species were a bit different.......you need to almost crawl on your knees to get inside those huts, though with my height, I just bowed down my head and walked in. The small entrance barred the hot wind to come in and so once you enter the hut it is cool ....you could hear the wind from within....blowing uninterrupted and then getting diverted by the hut......listening to the wind was really romantic....

As we sat to have lunch in the sultry afternoon in a roadside dhaba.....there were sparrows pecking to the Bajra rotis....huge round ones which are baked on mud platelets and mashed with some dry veggies and curd, which might be a bit fermented too . The locally prepared garlic and chilly paste rejuvenates the taste buds !! .....as you enjoyed the rural desert cuisine, there would be some aged people...adding on to the laziness of the afternoon by consuming small little tablets of opium

By afternoon it got dark...with nimbus clouds, it seemed that it could pour down any moment ...the first splash of colours were seen....peacocks were seen walking graciously or perched on the branches of babools...their shrill cacophony broke the tranquility of the deserts......it seemed the welcome songs for the rains have begun, though, localites augured  that it would not rain

....and then it grew even darker....things at a distance became hazy and it was like a gush of blinding smoke....a sandstorm, which approached like a whirlwind. Nothing was to be seen, as we sheltered ourselves in one of the huts....till the storm receded. they said that it was of a smaller magnitude. Once over, I saw the re-modeled sanddunes ...seemed nature has recrafted on its sand art.

From dusk to twilight it stretched over till 8 in the evening, when we went to the hamlet of the nomadic tribes- Kalbelia ki Basti. Ttill a couple of years back, these were hunting gatherimg groups, but now gradually settling down....with livelihood options being reduced for such a floating population. Traditionally they have been snake charmnrs, now metamorphosed , mostly to the occupation(?) of begging. Women clad in heavy traditional jewellery of beads and feathers, conspicuous, to their black ghargras. The hamlet was also spotted with lean and thin hunter dogs, who are the territorial guards of the place

...and in that dusk....when it was entertainment time, the kalebelias played on their flute, slightly rounded in the middle, decorated with lovely beadwork, (generally used to charm the snakes) and women danced....and huge flared ghagras circled as they took rounds in the sand....and we sat on carpets made of camel hair and admired.

the starry sky was the last treat for the day, for it was millions and trillions of twinkling, across the horizon of the earth...as we had some warm goat's milk....I watched....trying to identify the constellations….trying to identify friends and foes sitting ‘up above the world so high’….. with thrilling senses. ..wondered… admist this huge stretches of land, each hamlet (dhani)is atleast half a km from the other....so do people have the same concept of neighbourhood as we have.....distance could be so distant....lonliness so lonely........

Written in 2004-05

Thursday, May 1, 2014

I's Love-Life

Wee hours of the night and day, and a shimmering stuttered me, 

With pangs for love, and thirst to life, how listless I would be

Such was so, then and now - as I worked, grew and grayed 

A 'life with love' and a 'love-ful life', I missed, yet I never craved

....a rhythmic answer to my friends' question, 'How's your love-life?', which then, had left me answerless for a while - May Day, 2014  

Monday, April 28, 2014

A grief can be sarcastic
A smile can be tearful
A dream can sustain a life
A commitment can just be poetic 
.....Moments woven bit by bit, yet time to be torn apart .....
April 4, 2014, 11:37 IST