Tauji

Tauji

While the world was lost

     in the frenzied tunes of urban lark,

In the countryside a faint flicker was

     tiptoeing through the dark,

Slowly-slowly the torch

     burnt high and bright,

Dynamic dimensions of its raylets

     woke up the slumberous masses for a fight.

Dignified confidence and exalted impulse

     of light went flunging forth,

Historically harassed and exploited millions

     got fresh hopes in south and north,

Lo! The fringe folks arrived

     at the forefront,

As the brightest star of Haryana

     in the sky brightly burnt.

Tauji, how high and mighty thou were!

     Still so down to earth and simple!

Corpulent informality thine

     brought always a smiling dimple

On every face tormented by

     a worrying wrinkle.

Thy simple soul,

     Always solemnly cuddled into

the paternal throes of composing

lushly-lustrous future

     for each and every one of us,

And when the brightest son of Haryana

     was gone for the eternal sleep,

A scar was created incalculably deep,

     While our helpless sky

fell into a mourning hush.

Still, O Tauji!

     Thy steady and unvacillating goodness,

And that persistently pronounced forthrightness

     will always remain with us

to guide us clear of every trouble's crush,

     Thy enlightening sagaciousness,

And the robust bravado of your heart

     will continue to inspire new green

sprouts in land troubled by thirst.

How fulsome was your love

     for the common people!

How refreshing was your smile's verve!

     Temper so gracefully proportioned

and enchantingly simple!

     How immensely forseeable

was character yours!

     Just like a path straight

and an open book of pleasant hours,–

     Without any twists and turns,

O Tauji great !

Thy large-hearted liberality

     was simply unbelievable,

Sacrificed the Nation's highest post

     without tiniest trace of grumble,

Now, others follow thy legendary step

     and reap the political fruit,

But alas, hear they not

     the cries of masses mute.

Who can forget

     the old-age pension,

Aha, an enormously elaborate

     example of public work !

Gone was crippling old's tension;

     Rhythmically gleaming

smiles now lurk.

O thou farmers' messiah !

     You tactfully removed

the noose of debt from their neck,

     Gave then a

fatherly pat at the back,

     And they – helplessly hemmed in by

the merciless loops of modern banking–

     found utmost solace

in thy patronage loop,

     Heavily indebted backs with a droop

got straightened with pride,

     Launched thou then

a new tirade against hunger,

     New hopes now linger

in peasants' dry eyes of yore,

Opened as thou a new door

     to pride and prosperity.

Mystic subtlety and exuberance

     of thy demeanour,

And freely elaborate freedom

     of the 'human' in you,

Reach O subjects at the King's

     threshold at any hour,–

Aha, no officially reprimanding queue!

Your legacy burning

     like a lamp

in stillest of silence,

     And thy charisma holding

in spellbinding balance,

     While time's arms

swinging helplessly and silently,

     Grows as the great man's

legend almost exponentially,

     Continue it will to

shine as our path's light,

     And we the sturdy sons

will toil to reach the height

     where you wanted us to reach–

A new, fighting determination

     in heart each;

To get the justice

     for everybody wronged;

A new prosperity in homes

     where it never belonged;

For the youths a fresh start;

     Evolve we'll a new art,

Whereby everything is in

     exquisitely fine-proportioned

parallel to your cause,

     Brethren! Let us prove our gratitude

to the man who brought

     in teary eyes a smiling rose.

Long live our

     grand spellbinder's legacy!

God! Let it perpetually

     cut the time's fabric mazy!

The Ever Flying Kite

The Ever Flying Kite

See the kite's sway in the sky:

Papered soul pull for escaping fly,

Corded attachment but to the earthly;—

The life force to its limits finally.

The will of soul for free float,

Alas! Possible only jerks lot,

Till the last drop hot,

The instinct, the desire leaves not.

And the momentary penury released,

As if to get the prisoner appeased,

What a beggar the besieged!

Pious but still teased.

Yes, broken at last! That wondrous free flight,
Alas but until fall for earthly delight.

                           

SPRING SEEDS

⋯and now the April has also gone,

Where are the seeds that I’d sown?

Like a ploughman I worked

in the summer almost melting bones,

Removed the stones,

Rattled which the spirit like someone

caught in desert’s sandy moans.

Then during winter my toil lit up a bonfire

amidst blinding blizzards and nature’s icy deeds,

These were my spring seeds,

embedded, impregnated in earth through my earthy deeds,

Spring seeds meant to

conceive, germinate, grow, ripe, flower and fructify,

But the spring came and went with a sad sigh,

Sorrows in my barren fields hit another high,

My spring seeds thus lost,

And me the farmer standing forlorn

without that harvest of which I used to boast,

Now the scorching May sun

beats down the dusty land with a fiery pun,

Peasant and his field thus stand mute,

Almost complete has’n the plunder and loot,

To gallows was sent my crop,

The hangman just mechanically pulled

the handle at the hanky’s drop,

Efforts’ dead body hangs from that noose,

And even the last strains of

faith, will power and hope getting loose.

People say that too much is my browbeat,

‘Why not clear another stony plot

to get something to eat?’

Perhaps they don’t realize

the blind, illogical passion’s treatise

which I wrote over stones with a pure soul,

Impractical, insane I stand out

with cracks and brain’s hole,

How could I expect fruits from this very plot?

And now I stare at the nullifying dot,

The desert storm meanwhile hisses with its lust hot,

Seeds have most probably been killed,

Aah, with amazing precision

the Goddess of infertility drilled!

While the songs of my fertile efforts in a chorus trilled,

But She has’n successful in its swipe,

Its blinding gung-ho and macabrous hype,

Lolloping its greedy tongue to

dejuice and deflower everything ripe,

Now I lay my back against a

hard, hot, unshaded rock,

My weariness, fatigue and torture

put me in a sleepy dock,   

In that short uneasy sleep

I get some relief from the pain of this injury deep,

A luxuriant crop I see in my dream

and nearby gurgling goes a stream.   

Being with the Self!

I know life has rejected me,
And death when will accept me
that time is yet to be!
Till then, O Sufi, is there any light to see?
Yes fella! 
It's in being with those who have been discarded by fate,
Who have laboriously scrawled and scribbled lifelong
but still have a clean slate;
It's in smiling with innocent dawns;
It's in basking in the sunny charms of forlorn lawns;
It's in the faded twinkle of distant stars;
It's in saying goodbye to the intrigues of my own internal wars;
It's in being with me,
And the way it is, let it be!

Self-defined World

The Spring's traces last,
Hot summers approaching fast,
Languid notes in the air,
A solitary bird's forlorn chirping for musical share,
Drowned in stillness
this late morning bright and fair, 
Sky's dull blue,
Overhanging the earth in paling hue,
But a smaller world is there,
The overall lethargy cannot reach where,--
In its self-defined world
in a corner tiny,
The luscious wild flower
still stands brave and shiny!

Hope Melting out of Frigidities!!

There is light beyond the deepest dark depth,
There is a bright day after the ghostly haunts of nightmarish night,
After a barren famished fight there is a blossomed springed delight,
After pining pangs of seperation there is a worthy end to the desperation, 
After crashing in the gutters there is a surge and rise to bathe in holy waters,
After crying convulsions on the lips, a smile takes honeyed sips,
After the last deafeat, still there is an undying urge to accomplish the feat,
Even when blind with despair, there is hope hiding and cajoling somewhere,
Even in hate love still lurks somewhere!!!!

Dark Shades Under Light

It has been months since 
I last lit my faith's lamp,
So many days have passed since
prayers chimed in my dark den's air damp, 
My meditating self,
Now gives atheistic yelp.
Lost my faith!
Lost my prayer!
Lost my rituals!
Lost my meditative trance!