Patterns of light on the walls by the banks of the river; mirrored from the undulating water. The heavy rainfall the night before merely exacerbated the flood through emotional tides.

I wish to recompense you for the time you spent lying by me on the bed undone ...

It stood encamped on the slight rise of the lined eye lashes.

Look at the vast expanse of unbridled sea. Calmness that rests in unhindered existence, far away from human affirmations. Beliefs that are owned and treasured. Confidence that there is co-existence. 

Let me sit back and reflect. For this moment at least.

And as I work through eons of unexplained opinions, malice and prejudice let me regain the calmness of naught, beliefs that are mine and confidence that we will survive. 

Let us not talk. For some time indeed.  

Switch off the lights dear.

Wheel that has evolved

on a certain round notion

goes on and on

without revolution;

I stand at the edge

none the fear of falling

neither the unknown awe’s

revulsion to moving;

Some will land … conquered

where no land exists

beyond shore … sans energy

and quaint infinity breathing;

(and even if the land holds acquaintance

and speaks in funny old language

let him find another plain

and another air in semblance;

let him restrain

the spokes of running wheels

let him rejoice in his victory

of landing on another territory.)

window vane -
unwarranted baggage
swaying ….
lost in thoughts -
questions which way to go
- mild winds ..

A country that laments the absence of winter can hardly enjoy the essence of spring. It is late January and the mind invariably returns to days marked by festivities welcoming spring .....the turbid waters of Ganges (heralding seasons of green fields and yellow flowers) swollen with the fragrance of ecstasy..... I am at a loss ..... complete loss .....

the doggerel verses languor
yearning for a form nay
in seasons of spring
even the fritinancy of cricket
yearns for monsoon's frills ...

The hot afternoons gather dust here and I am again taken back in my times where spring would tease the knots of winter slowly .. somewhat steadfastly animating the colours of violet on a wide screen for small mortals like me to gauge and gaze and appreciate.

Sighs! the appreciation is only in memories, memories that has tangled itself with the soil of my skin. I look out at the virile sky who looks madly and deeply in love with the moon tonight with curious onlookers waiting expectantly for them to make their next move and as time continues its enfleshed dreams I see no movement ...... no movement yet again tonight ..... making me wonder what happened to their love stories .... the eternal love stories … there I see desires but desires that are not sought and I look again … this time blankly at the solitary smiling moon … remembering …. just plain remembering ....

give me another moon to last
the moon I saw the other night
of white muslin floating over
memories patterned in black & white
whose dainty feet above slender grounds
whose sandals encased in wimple strides
whose silence draped in charnel nights
whose colours rain radiantly bright ---
whose colours rain radiantly bright!!

from the distance that you see the light
will be yours -
from the distance that you dream
will be yours ;

in woodlands where senescent night breeds
and lies awake like cascading lava rills,
on a broad road highway where with wizened eyes
the moon starts gazing with a lover’s sight,
come lets stroll until we stride;

at the end of the liquescent highway lies our path
where the other morning had built a similar structure
but without form and had called us to have a look
in tremulous lights where only heart could sight
and till we see, come lets walk till we stride;

my city will watch as we pass, by the houses beside
in torn clothes and messed hairs but crystalline face
and mutter and whisper tales of our love to their lover,
with blood on our hands we will reach the weir
and till we reach, come lets walk until we meet;

and when at the site our eyes would meet
with shame the dim lake will breathe -
and ablution of our sin will surely concern
the existence of ghoul haunted seer
and till they learn to live, lets walk still;

from the distance that you saw the light
will then be yours -
from the distance that you dreamt
will then be yours;

the heart that had bled yearning
will then be yours - - -

Burning time on low heat fire
slowly .. steadily … tediously -
as it melts I look solemnly
at few words dissolved
into drops of scatted ink
like heated fire
spreading ... flaming ...
intensifying the gathering air
as brazen winds push the casement
and phantoms await encroachment
as storms build their mighty force
and awaits their loud captain - -
Shall we wait, asks myself
Shall we run, asks again
as mind holds fort over thy rein
and heart gallops to a country
far on northern plains
I find my sun beside me
beneath my clouds awakened.

Saturday December 29, 2007 is the date that this post records. Two days to go when earth will again complete its customary journey round its beloved sun. It’s surprising how someone else’s attraction, infatuation or loving journey stimulates all and every one of us in some way or the other. There wouldn’t be anyone who can claim not to have been impacted by their love story. Mine has been too.

Time (simply) flies by as seasons change their attire. And with it I too add another chapter to my life with words written in coloured pencils. Sometimes these words speak with thunder and I become aware of my somnolent senses and sometimes these words have soporific influence upon me helping me sleep with unrealised dreams .... Sometimes I erase them from pages of my indolent life and sometimes I add a few words to glorify ....

I have always believed in living life the way I want. Imitation is the best form of flattery and I somehow never wanted to flatter anyone by imitating them. When I look back at my life twenty years down the road, I hope I look back with pride for having lived it the way I wanted … for taking my own decisions …. for growing every second my own way … for living every dream that I dreamt of … for a journey that was mine, influenced by me and my circumstances .... (every year it is a persistent endeavor to realise this latent desire).

2007 had so many scenes in this artful play of life interwoven with brilliant contrasts … the contrasts that made me sit back and admire the beauty of life … contrasts that sometimes made me laugh with its facetious remarks …. contrasts that sometimes had the impact of a choir singing a complicated and elaborate psalm …. and contrasts that sometimes whacked me with its indignation. I cogitate upon the discoveries that I have made and sometimes exult with sheer joy in the prospect of a new season or in the reprisal of a winter that will surely pass away.

2007 also taught me new ways to living alone. Taught me the distinction between lonely and alone and how the way I feel is what translates into phrases that my life writes. Such a practice as keeping a smile on the face even in the light of cold, prosaic or matter of fact circumstances that time presents elevates poignant mind from the shackles of peccant Angles to the sacerdotal hymns of Vedas.

It is difficult to paint on a canvas scattered with colours that hasn't come from your own brush. For those who endeavors to build something out of it and succeeds, there is a different dawn that awaits them. Those who at least try even without succeeding, there is a different horizon that is drawn on that canvas and for those who never tried, the colours will read and behave in the same fashion and manner that the canvas dictates. Lessons learnt in managing expectations of one’s ownself and the loved ones is something that I will cherish along with the skills of saying ‘no’ the right way.

Overall as with other years, 2007 brought the same unexpected successes and failures. Neither of them have made me learn to be more excited than I am as it is with life nor have they made me learn to be disappointed and loose faith in the same magic that is called life.

Failure that awaith me
Failed me again -
Awaith the success
Success never came...

Both success and failure in its dualism never had a cognitive impact on my senses. That is perhaps why I am never overjoyed or depressed … perhaps because of the realization that both failures and successes are cyclical in their existence and come what may I can never control the results of the events. What I can do is try and I hope I continue to do that. Belief in life is different from belief in destiny. Destiny is nothing if I don’t give it a try.

Destiny … that’s not life
In every semblance of doubt that bores
A yes or perhaps a no …. But then
For every wrong, would life have made it right
Even without that one single try
Would it still be destined if I had not
Given it an honest try.

I am sure 2008 will be as uncertain and as unpredictable as all these years have been in the past. And I wish it brings with it a list of hopes that will continue to mark my being. Hope that 2008 is another chapter like all of the 26 previous ones that will help me become more aware of my own existence.

I also hope that 2008 makes you all believe in life … let you dream and promise endeavors that will help you realise those dream. Have a great year end and a fantastic new year.

the moon shied behind the boughs
varnishing this drowsy night;
the return of the skies -
amidst unshent stars
I looked for mine,
through eyes
of eon sea …
as you
kept searching
for eternal rest,
on this shore’s
wedged bed sheet …..

hope -
embracing earth’s root
nurturing life that sows,
animating and living -
and growing beyond
it’s own hold,
with thrift …

hope -
wrapped under espionage,
binding and unfolding -
spreading tentacles,
growing beyond
sustaining grit …

I have seen it there
once more as always
calling my name
sans censure
intoxicating
my vision ….

found him with open arms
when I looked around
standing as always
undemanding
smiling back
awaiting …

hope that sows life ---
life that sowed hope ---

Music flows randomly across the room trying at it’s best to inveigle the mind and it’s surrounding. The book that lay on the table yearning for a touch now no longer looks concerned … it has given up on its reader since early morning. The bed that is tired of it’s occupant looks messy … desiring … wanting … expecting some breathing space but even that seems to be a distant dream. It has to wait for tomorrow - the beginning of another week …. another sun ….. another horizon.....

what You reckon -
(is needless deeds)
what I bear upon -
(is only my creed)
the stag that ran -
(for life succeeds)
the Lion that hunted -
(balances decreed);

or what You say - one day
exchange these places
You and me
Me and naught
or in other forms
some stimulus
when I look upon (and)
you look above - - - -

what do I repine
for what claim I lie
or for whose claim
shall I lie
that what was yours -
was never mine.

drops that form pearl
in the depth of bed
or was it mud
that swung by the bay
for what shall I claim -
that was never mine.

what do I repine
at quests that ain’t quench
the sun ... the sky
or sudden respite
the steps that shan’t alight -
never meant to … not mine.

few bricks overlooking serene trees
restless moorings of the world
on an ostensive evening
calm beckoning lake

That’s only a prelude I thought stately
But wafting through whispering winds
And the loveless trees’ desires
I saw your settling glean
Healing my wounds
To vitality again;

And as death bestowed on barley sheaves
And weary worn out skies bequeathed
In the waning hours of my time
I heard your jouncing steps
Summoning my desire
To live again….

Most of the times, lifeless do breathe life into our very listless life ….

Sometimes you simply do not know what has hit you … And most of the times you survive the phase that momentarily you would have ascribed to been the worst crash of your life …

Do we need to analyze every gnome feeling that surrounds us … Can’t we just let it pass the night test and see what the morning beckons …..

Restless fugacious times seldom understands balance of emotions. Emotions …. boundless emotions. Or emotions …… boundary less emotions. Emotions that knows not how to house. Emotions that seldom recognizes sounds ….

Again my experiences or memories abound
sketches peccant paths and astute sounds
redirects where I seldom visit
roads left behind or rather entwined;

And I keep walking unknowingly or perhaps like
most of the times, in my own glacial silence
under stentorian skies and its trenchant cries
walking through voltaic journeys ….. galvanizing life;

the wave’s lies
and shore’s cries
the eddying seas
and blank skies

thus she died with fallen desires
crouched in a squatting attire
and continued servilely
on path to uncertainty

waited for a moments thirst
to quench un-necessity
and questioned her lust
to seek eternity

the moon forms
and shore awaits
the tides gnaw
and skies adore

thus the path back to home
her realization of unsung desires
she had asked for a piece of night
when days awaited her in full sight.

he looks over the paling fence
of my mind and heart
searching where I live by;

looking across the grassy yards
breaks my inner most thoughts
into boxes of several placid cards;

and through several graffiti miles
the effulgent rays penetrates
and rocks upon the rocking chair
lying beside my veranda’s despair;

it’s not the same today
it’s not the same
it’s some other sun
that has found its way.

What amuses me is the secret that I hold
a secret that only I know
secret that treads
as I walk on roads.

Beneath the moist monsoon soils
the leaves clutter and chatter
making me wonder -
do they too know.

The quivering trees too beat -
the sounds of cluster ....
amongst themselves
and the pulsating winds.

The wind that smells distinct
far more today, letting off something -
is it just me -
or something like disaster knocking.

The wind that blows the tide
over and over on the other side
must have marked the land
with signs of sticky sand.

I know they know the secret
but they shan’t say, I assured
only the ladybird sings
but in a dialect unheard.

What amuses me is the secret that I hold
a secret that I think only few know
translucent ... blatant secret
that hopes sow.

Through chthonic realms of night
Dance ebulliently over effete dark
Hold me close as snail’s shells
My moment arrives over clapping shades.

Rise today through the strips of vim
Meander through ribbons of streams
Over the strings of anonymous rays
Let me grab a piece through gazelle’s rings.

I now see it through verdant hills
Then over the jouncing sea strips
Yes it’s here round that corner
Playing the regular hide and seek.

And I wait patiently ....
And I wait expectantly .....
Through silence of moon -
It will surely arrive soon.