A Claimed Tear

 With softly pining majesty,

silence sings a song,

Shadows grow long,

Her soft fingers brace my face

and go along a tear's trace.

Delicate tip of her finger bears the jewel,

A tear,

The tear that would have been

lost as a salty line on my face.

The Journeyman

 

Lynched by loneliness,

I surrendered to the

sweet tyranny of solitude,

The wounds healed,

The suffering receded,

They moved away

like shifting shadows,

Painful memories lagged behind

and turned milestones on the foggy path,

Of course sweet breeze blows sometimes

and carries sweet memories from behind,

They leave a smile on my lips

and are again left behind, as I move on,

like sweet path-side flowers,

I look back,

They wave a sweet good bye

with a still sweeter sigh,

And thus we have to move on,

All alone

to our destination next,

And pitch our tent at one fine dusk

and go for a long, long sleep.

The Winners

 Greedy, lustful gust of wind

clasped the fragrant petals

of the full-blossomed flower.

Covetous currents of its dark passion

tore the tiny vase of beauty and perfume.

Petals fly with dust in all directions.

The storm doesn't win

and the beauty doesn't lose!

The former loses battle over time and distance

and dies with thorny imprints

left by the stem on its viciously throbbing heart,

The latter spreads its cozily surrendered self

in the limitless folds of peace.

A moment

 A full flower, 

a cracked persona,

misleading reflection, 

a hazy dream between real and unreal...

an existential moment.

Stale, yawning, sleepy musings on a hot, humid and sultry noon

 A widow fleeing from a Taliban ravaged town in Afghanistan says: "When there are two girls in a family they take one to marry her to a fighter; when there are two boys they take one to make him fight."

The bloody saga opens full throttle again in Afghanistan. And the outsiders go there to have their share of the pie and then leave. Superpower blocks cannot heal the Afghan soul. They have bled it too much for many decades. Any healing, even cosmetic in effect, has to come through the UN. Afghanistan needs a UN peacekeeping force. With strong Indian boots on the ground, of course.

**

Dogs, slums, shit, squalor, stray cows, filthy pigs, poisoned air, plundering rulers, dying truth, abandoned and obsolete god. And in all this, we the commoners lost like plagued rats. Rain lays bare the reality in our so called swank 21^st century metropolitan cities. Flooded potholed roads convey the scars that we carry in our imagination. Dirtier than shit garbage lays the foundation of the karmabhoomi of wormish survivals. Salutes my cities!

**

The farmers are shedding blood of their will power for their mother earth. The very same earth whose maternity they have maintained through countless sweat and blood drops falling on her golden crystals. Land grabbers beware! They will stay. Want to test their stamina? Well, do it at your own risk!

**

The real skill of we Indians lies in mindless, reckless, profuse and enthralling procreation. It seems to be a full time job. We just love conceiving even more than the ecstatic moments preceding the conception. No wonder, we are a big, buzzing ant-swarm now. Jostling and lost in its own directionless, blindfolding majesty.

**

Yamuna is up to a complete facelift this time. More rains, more torrents packed with hilly sediments. The runnels of Yamuna rushing past the flood plains in Delhi but still bear the marks of defecations on her holy brow. There was a time, as close as three years back, when two elephants played on the semi-stinking sand, raised their trunks to pay homage to the inherent holiness. The laws have their claws. They were dispatched to some sanctuary. The mother seems to miss its muddy roly-poly babies. 

Forlorn Songs of the Rainy Season

Mother, in complete humility and gratitude I bow,

However far you may go,

The rays of your love will light

even the darkest of my night!

**

Darkness

Too far and deep, I have gone into the pit of gloom,

And lost in the cavernous folds of the impending doom,

Even the brightest big suns now appear too far,

Faint stars these now and just flash their inspiring rays,

Feeble rays reaching me cannot take out the ship caught in treacherous bays,

I know the futility of the beckoning light,

Even in its brightest folds outside, hope is now out of sight,

Now I go deep into my night,

With nobody as a witness to my plight,

All cherished dreams out of sight,

A wingless bird that tried to fly but then crashed from its struggled height,

Now I just silently walk into the dark hold of my night,

Alone

and forlorn,

Insane eccentricities of my soft moan,

Carrying me into the hitherto unreached zone!

**

The light does hark,

beyond the deepest dark,

There is a day bright,

after the ghostly haunts of a nightmarish night,

After a barren famished fight,

there blossoms a spring-fresh delight,

After the pining pangs of separation,

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 defeat,

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!

**

Raven

in cuddling heaven!

Its irritable kaw-kaw melting into bearable notes,

Its erstwhile black monochrome, ewwe!

Glowing now with a likeable hue,

Love is the best form of truth and beauty,

Take it as your conscious humanoid duty!

**

Their dreams frequently suffer a break,

They are but the ones who help others make!

**

The mountain eagle flying

in splendor and ecstasy,

Its unquenchable tempests

creating airy firmament,

But does this fraction of reality

possess anything good for the prey as well?

**

The story told by the soul to its own corpse:

Once I flew and frolicked high,

Now the flesh and blood gone dry,

The real me withdrew with a painful sigh,

They say, 'I was destined to die,'

It's but the biggest lie!

**

Lost

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!

**

The Light!

The light does hark,

beyond the deepest dark,

There is a day bright,

after the ghostly haunts of a nightmarish night,

After a barren famished fight,

there blossoms a spring like delight,

After pining pangs of separation,

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 defeat,

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!

**

The winter has'n brutal and harsh,

And my struggle turned almost a farce,

Lost all my leaves,

With loss my soul grieves,

Still not all is lost,

For greenish life finds a host

in the wheat at my feet,

They pay a respectable greet,

My loss and my pain

doesn't go in vain,

Tumbled down as my leaf

with pain and grief,

Blossom thousands around,

Wheatlings like daughters doth surround,

Fell where my tear,

Many a smile this earth doth bear,

Doesn't go waste my pain,

Sows it the prospects of gain,

If not for me,

Definitely for thee!

**

O thou little master,

The world was a bit faster,

You now force brakes,

Lions turn into drakes,

Even newspaper is scary,

No longer a news carrying fairy,

It comes from Delhi,

Fear pinches my guts and belly,

With inhibitions I touch,

A fearful world is such!

**

There is always hope,

As long as nature holds the rope

through its smile pure,

Survive we will for sure!

**

I am the moth

and I love my flame!

My fire!

But I feel the burning core of

the glow around which

I helplessly circle around!

I know that I cannot stop

the fire from burning,

So I throw myself in a fiery pit

to forget my dear flame's burning plight!

I throw myself in a bigger fire

so that I forget myself

and my flame's cries!

**

The storm screeched through the night,

Poured its fury through sadistic love bite,

Undefeated but smiles the beauty,

Still doing its fragrant duty,

Her holy petals bear

the storm's violating drops without fear,

Holy beads now they are,

Smiles, smiles and no war!

**

The rabid Chinese communist thugs,

And fundamentalist religious bugs,

Will tatter and tear

the majestic carpet to bloodied rugs,

Don't take their bait,

Don't engage them in hate,

At level theirs don't fight,

For it'll be devil's delight,

Love is the sole remedy against the bug,

Go, give them a sweet hug,

Goodness lies in every human heart,

Only on the surface bad doth dart,

May be they will realize,

It's the only harmless weapon

to cut the devil to a decent size,

Civil disobedience against

the Chinese communist thugs,

A loving embrace

to the blinded suicidal religious bugs,

Only this will quell the doom,

Or be ready for the devil's boom!

**

Not all is well,

Another Baobab fell,

The millennial old sages,

Mother's blessing arms for ages,

They now bid a sad bye,

Her blessings withdraw with a sigh!

**

I was once luscious red,

Now the colors get shed,

Spring dews nourished me,

Delightful to see,

Now the colors turn pale,

Youth, how thou sail!

Sadistically sun-kissed and old,

Death takes me in its fold,

I but hold with grace,

My wise, toothless smile up for a brace,

Earlier only my skin used to glow,

Now the entire self in mystical flow,

I choose to smile till last,

Let the summer sun go crazy with blast,

I arrived with smile on my lips,

Now the entire soul takes divine sips.

**

Then, dew-kissed youth fed by nourishing spring.

Now, sun-kissed old age forged in the furnace of summers.

Then, kiss of life, love and living.

Now, kiss of death and decay.

Mother's kisses are simply kisses,

Just that our ego fumes and hisses!

**

Chums rubbing bums!

To the hell with social distancing!

That's your problem, not ours!

You guys didn't care,

Our freedom we also don't share,

We enjoy our littered eat,

You stare at yours in loo's seat,

You aren't as neat

as you may think,

Our nose is still pink

despite all the shitty job,

Stenchiest poo is loaded in your knob,

Despite the proof of your evolved brain,

All appears to go down the drain!

**

A ray

and a day

making hay...

**

Staring at the misty past

and forcing myself not to see the future eager to unfold itself too fast,

I wave at the nostalgic strains still beckoning and alive,

How I wish I could dive

back into the pools of the past,

To have my moments last

at a place that held me in its cradle soft,

That pious embrace which still holds me aloft!

**

The burning beast!

Ashes and ambers in its furnaced heart,

Unquenchable thirst in its guts,

Restless howls oozing from its sandy soul.

Its being defined by the belief in death—

the absence and denial of supple, pliant, giving, forgiving waters.

Its inflated vastness puffs out lifeless sandy blizzards.

Poor thing doesn't know that a tiny oasis,

silently doing its lifeful duty is dearer to both man and god!

**

A dry tree doles out a piece of death-bed wisdom for me:

My wood is all but dead and dry,

I ought not to have a sad tear in my eye,

Nor a pining heart's sigh,

My roots are now the soil

that fuels the fresh leaves' toil

for new smiles and fragrance,

Much of what was once above

is alive now below!

And here are the sad musings of a lone pine on a weather-beaten ridge:

Where have the birds gone?

Too many of them used to roam

the sky over my head,

And play, love and make nest

at their joyous best

among branches mine,

Now my pine's soul doth pine,

Yesterday, I saw a bird couple too sad,

Are many of them dead?

**

O Lord!

The sweet bugs of your love thrive in my being,

My frailties try to kill them,

My fears and insecurity keep mauling them under hard boots,

But they survive this poison and heartless onslaught.

My weaknesses light fire to burn them,

But they still rise from the ashes like Phoenix,

With every effort to tear them away from my facade,

They sneak deeper into my soul.

This body will decay and burn some day,

But they will carry on with my soul!

**

When the night sighs like a pining mother,

Pining for that shining star that smiled

and shone on its darkish face,

And now lost somewhere in the infinite folds of the cosmos,

I feel the mother's pain,

For who hasn't been a loser in this world,

I have lost one too.

**

In the fathomless distances of the cosmic darkness,

somewhere my real self shines dreamily.

It teases me from far.

Its rays reach me now and then.

And before the undying dawn settles on my face,

the star is again lost in the impenetrable cosmic clouds.

**

A dove-eyed gazelle,

Deep in a forest,

Steps on a dry leaf,

It murmurs with pain,

A thin crackling sound

and it falls apart.

Far away in a concrete jungle,

She has a sadistic smile on her lips

and steps over his heart.

The leaf in the forest

voices the shattering blast

of a broken heart.

A plum ripe fruit on a branch,

It grabs naughty simian attention,

A playful snatching pull,

And the fruit goes off at its prime.

Far away, death sharpens its scythe, chuckles heartlessly,

and harvests a young life at its peak.

A pale old leaf surrenders

to the painless pull of gravity,

And swirls down to ecstatic oblivion.

Far away, an old man peacefully

takes his last breath in sleep.

**

The Spring's traces last,

Hot summers approaching fast,

Languid notes in the air,

A solitary bird's forlorn chirping

for its musical share,

Drowned in stillness

this late morning bright and fair,

Sky's dull blue,

Spread with some mystical clue,

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!

**

God and Evil

I want to love God.
I love wanting God.
I love God.
I want God.
Why do I have the need to love God?
And
To sustain all this
I need the anti-god in me.
I love the anti-god in me.
I need hate to keep reminding me that there is a thing called love.
I need my devil to love my god.
The anti-polarities we always need to keep our dreams of wanting to love pious polarities.
Words simply flummox me, eh. I get caught. And then I throw stones at the devil to keep my urge to throw flowers at my god. Little do I realise that my pious hymns need my hateful hiss at my sins to glorify them as godly divinity.