When an obstruction blocks
the peacefully flowing river
it finds other channels
to surge ahead.
When steam
coming out through a fissure
is suppressed
it explodes violently.
When thundering waterfalls
encounter barriers
they rage, regardless.
That's what people nowadays
don't understand.
There are waterfalls of steaming desire
within me
But they think human laws
work differently
from natural, physical ones.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Fragments
I am fluid
I take the shape
of whatever mould
you put me in.
I flow downwards
get pumped upwards.
you throw me,
splash me.
parts of me scatter.
what am I?
is there a me?
the part you splashed,
or the part that's here?
I take the shape
of whatever mould
you put me in.
I flow downwards
get pumped upwards.
you throw me,
splash me.
parts of me scatter.
what am I?
is there a me?
the part you splashed,
or the part that's here?
The Sound of Reverberating Silence
Between the ringing of the bell
and the opening of the door
Between reaching the platform
and the coming of the metro
Between lying in bed
and waiting for sleep
lies the silence.
In the depths of nights of darkness
In the heart of rock or stone
In the spaces of an old man's thoughts
lies the silence
Between what I feel
and what I say
Between what I say
and what you hear
Between what you do
and what I understand
lies the silence
In the centre of activity, civilisation
In the core of things
In the abyss of a mind
lies eternal, irredeemable silence
Some go to offices, some go to classes
some go to parties, some go to night clubs
some to book clubs, others to piano lessons
some apply hair dye as they see themselves grow old
some tell fortunes out of tea leaves
some smoke and drink chai and pass time
All are in a hurry, a flurry to escape
all know it intimately, all deny it vehemently
the eternal, irredeemable silence.
and the opening of the door
Between reaching the platform
and the coming of the metro
Between lying in bed
and waiting for sleep
lies the silence.
In the depths of nights of darkness
In the heart of rock or stone
In the spaces of an old man's thoughts
lies the silence
Between what I feel
and what I say
Between what I say
and what you hear
Between what you do
and what I understand
lies the silence
In the centre of activity, civilisation
In the core of things
In the abyss of a mind
lies eternal, irredeemable silence
Some go to offices, some go to classes
some go to parties, some go to night clubs
some to book clubs, others to piano lessons
some apply hair dye as they see themselves grow old
some tell fortunes out of tea leaves
some smoke and drink chai and pass time
All are in a hurry, a flurry to escape
all know it intimately, all deny it vehemently
the eternal, irredeemable silence.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
From Mirage to Mirage
the sand glimmers with heat
the air glimmers with heat
the clear blue sky mocks the aridity
scavenging vultures circle overhead
the rotting carcass of a camel
in the distance.
they live off the camel, to survive
the hot sun sears, scorches
merciless.
I step onto a sand dune
shifting sands slip under me
sucking me in,
I struggle to escape.
the desert is greedy, hungry
it wants. it desires. it takes.
I am thirsty. I want. I desire.
shading my eyes--- there it is!
palm trees, an oasis.
the dream of the oasis
my faith in the oasis
pulls me out of the shifting sands
propelling weak body, weary mind
towards that promise.
The blazing sun beats down
on glimmering parched sand
Nothing. Barren aridity.
It was a mirage.
Vultures mock me with rapacious
raucous cries
the sand shifts from beneath my feet
sucking me in, sucking, sucking
the blue sky laughs and jeers from above
no water in sight
no human soul in sight
only hot sun, shifting sands, vultures.
I look in the distance
I dream, I believe
in the promise of that baseless mirage
I have utmost faith
from mirage to mirage I live
my faith in a mirage quenches my thirst
torn by contradiction
broken by mockery
with certainty of uncertainty
my only rock of faith
a mirage.
From mirage to mirage I live
I've been doing it for years.
the air glimmers with heat
the clear blue sky mocks the aridity
scavenging vultures circle overhead
the rotting carcass of a camel
in the distance.
they live off the camel, to survive
the hot sun sears, scorches
merciless.
I step onto a sand dune
shifting sands slip under me
sucking me in,
I struggle to escape.
the desert is greedy, hungry
it wants. it desires. it takes.
I am thirsty. I want. I desire.
shading my eyes--- there it is!
palm trees, an oasis.
the dream of the oasis
my faith in the oasis
pulls me out of the shifting sands
propelling weak body, weary mind
towards that promise.
The blazing sun beats down
on glimmering parched sand
Nothing. Barren aridity.
It was a mirage.
Vultures mock me with rapacious
raucous cries
the sand shifts from beneath my feet
sucking me in, sucking, sucking
the blue sky laughs and jeers from above
no water in sight
no human soul in sight
only hot sun, shifting sands, vultures.
I look in the distance
I dream, I believe
in the promise of that baseless mirage
I have utmost faith
from mirage to mirage I live
my faith in a mirage quenches my thirst
torn by contradiction
broken by mockery
with certainty of uncertainty
my only rock of faith
a mirage.
From mirage to mirage I live
I've been doing it for years.
Friday, January 16, 2009
haikus
trying out haikus...
big, full golden moon
between two tall palm tree tops
inky purple sky
bare, slender branches
parakeets, thick as leaves
still, as though transfixed
these are just experiments... according to Vivek, you need to read the work of the old japanese masters first before you try to write haikus, and I've never read any... and now I'm fearing scathing remarks from vivek if he reads all these references on my blog!!
big, full golden moon
between two tall palm tree tops
inky purple sky
bare, slender branches
parakeets, thick as leaves
still, as though transfixed
these are just experiments... according to Vivek, you need to read the work of the old japanese masters first before you try to write haikus, and I've never read any... and now I'm fearing scathing remarks from vivek if he reads all these references on my blog!!
a ghazal
i wrote this ghazal very foolishly, without even knowing that it needs to have a rhyme... then when Vivek pointed that out, I managed to have some sort of a rhyme, and personally speaking, it turned out much better than I expected it to, when i was wrestling away with it. But what Vivek says is very true... that it's actually a repetition of "-ly" and not really a rhyme... well... I didn't know that when I wrote it, and now I'm stuck and have no idea what to do with it! Here goes! the idea is something that germinated in my mind a lon time back in october-november...
a sculptor carving skilfully in agra
my hand was cut off stealthily in agra
abused and worn out weaning fourteen babies
your love in a tomb, tenderly in agra
people from afar visit the world's wonder
amidst squalor unheedingly in agra
built by shah jahan for his beloved wife mumtaz
in history class they said proudly in agra
this white gleaming tomb erected in darkness
Shruti asks cruelly or lovingly i agra.
a sculptor carving skilfully in agra
my hand was cut off stealthily in agra
abused and worn out weaning fourteen babies
your love in a tomb, tenderly in agra
people from afar visit the world's wonder
amidst squalor unheedingly in agra
built by shah jahan for his beloved wife mumtaz
in history class they said proudly in agra
this white gleaming tomb erected in darkness
Shruti asks cruelly or lovingly i agra.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
poems shortlisted for TLM
OK... I have NEWS!! For the first time since I started this blog, I actually have NEWS.
which is just that I got the surprise of my life on the evening of 9th jan 2009, when a mail from Antara Dev Sen of "The Little Magazine" (otherwise known as TLM) saying that 3 of my poems ...( and I had sent them so many... that was a long time back in July 2008) have been accepted for publishing in subsequent issues. all their issues are themed, so the poem has to fit the theme. that's all. this is what makes me so super-elatedly excited these days when all else fails...
I'm pasting the 3 poems here below, although all of them are elsewhere on this blog as well, in earlier entries... here goes...
1. Trees
Gnarled, huge, knotted, tree trunks
Grand old banyans spreading, an ancient society
Guardians of the earth, these sentinels
stand watch, century after century
Witnessing .... Time
I bow my head, god is here
in these temples of our grandfathers.
2. You have grown
into me
you are part of me
your words are my words
your tones and gestures
my tones and gestures
the way you dress, is the way I dress
How do I separate
How do I escape from you now
without losing my self?
3. At night
\
temporarily removed. sent elsewhere for publication.
which is just that I got the surprise of my life on the evening of 9th jan 2009, when a mail from Antara Dev Sen of "The Little Magazine" (otherwise known as TLM) saying that 3 of my poems ...( and I had sent them so many... that was a long time back in July 2008) have been accepted for publishing in subsequent issues. all their issues are themed, so the poem has to fit the theme. that's all. this is what makes me so super-elatedly excited these days when all else fails...
I'm pasting the 3 poems here below, although all of them are elsewhere on this blog as well, in earlier entries... here goes...
1. Trees
Gnarled, huge, knotted, tree trunks
Grand old banyans spreading, an ancient society
Guardians of the earth, these sentinels
stand watch, century after century
Witnessing .... Time
I bow my head, god is here
in these temples of our grandfathers.
2. You have grown
into me
you are part of me
your words are my words
your tones and gestures
my tones and gestures
the way you dress, is the way I dress
How do I separate
How do I escape from you now
without losing my self?
3. At night
\
temporarily removed. sent elsewhere for publication.
Monday, December 22, 2008
arrested moments
in the flux of time
challenge linearity.
my nostalgic self
journeys back beyond
borders of finite, limiting time
lives again in memory intensely
what it cannot in reality.
this moment too
will soon be past
recorded forever
on the film of heart and mind
a tenuous, fragile link
it wavers, but never quite breaks.
this place binds me to itself
this is where I'll always "belong"
of distance, time, even people --
regardless.
in the flux of time
challenge linearity.
my nostalgic self
journeys back beyond
borders of finite, limiting time
lives again in memory intensely
what it cannot in reality.
this moment too
will soon be past
recorded forever
on the film of heart and mind
a tenuous, fragile link
it wavers, but never quite breaks.
this place binds me to itself
this is where I'll always "belong"
of distance, time, even people --
regardless.
born of a desperate state, this poem was written as a sort of catharsis... to purge the excess of emotion... it comes across as pretty cliched and hackneyed, but I am still posting it here. the couplet form at least brings in a little bit of distance, (I hope...)
Smouldering fire
agony of desire
broken heart, aflame, afire
writhes as in a seizure.
pent, unspent, it wastes away
consuming itself day after day
what will remain of this shrivelled heart?
withering, drying up, torn apart?
its grief it brought upon itself
past misdeeds don't repair themselves
passion and folly have ruined woman before this
this heart is damned, do not pity it
riddled with shame, overwhelmed by pain
it cannot accept what society ordains
it's a cancerous wound, it cannot move on
trapped in its own net, this heart is too far gone
reverberating silence blasts the heart's deep core
stifled, suppressed, lonely, heavy and sore
a tale so common and overused
still as true for me as it is for you.
Smouldering fire
agony of desire
broken heart, aflame, afire
writhes as in a seizure.
pent, unspent, it wastes away
consuming itself day after day
what will remain of this shrivelled heart?
withering, drying up, torn apart?
its grief it brought upon itself
past misdeeds don't repair themselves
passion and folly have ruined woman before this
this heart is damned, do not pity it
riddled with shame, overwhelmed by pain
it cannot accept what society ordains
it's a cancerous wound, it cannot move on
trapped in its own net, this heart is too far gone
reverberating silence blasts the heart's deep core
stifled, suppressed, lonely, heavy and sore
a tale so common and overused
still as true for me as it is for you.
another attempt at writing a sonnet...
although I am mightily pleased with my latest accomplishment, suggestions and viewpoints are most welcome...
a milk bottle for the baby
mamma's caress for little children
a fairy tale for kindergarten
or a huggy, cuddly teddy
prayer books, rosaries for rocking chair ladies
brandy, maybe, for the gentry
cigarette for the young adult-ry
a phone call for lovers and pretty lassies
As for me, I always think of you
you do not know, you do not care
the world gives me one cold rude stare
but constantly within me, there is you
Is it weakness, illusion, is it wrong
to want that for which all humans long?
although I am mightily pleased with my latest accomplishment, suggestions and viewpoints are most welcome...
a milk bottle for the baby
mamma's caress for little children
a fairy tale for kindergarten
or a huggy, cuddly teddy
prayer books, rosaries for rocking chair ladies
brandy, maybe, for the gentry
cigarette for the young adult-ry
a phone call for lovers and pretty lassies
As for me, I always think of you
you do not know, you do not care
the world gives me one cold rude stare
but constantly within me, there is you
Is it weakness, illusion, is it wrong
to want that for which all humans long?
Friday, November 14, 2008
Dream Terror (a sonnet)
My first sonnet ever!! I was so excietd yesterday when I wrote it!!
dunno if I succeeded though.... here it goes...
Dream Terror
Often have I had gory dreams
Of being shut up in prison, of rape
Life threatening situations with no escape
Gruesome visions that oft made me scream.
But lately I had one of unspeakable horror
It was all the effect of Wilde's book
Dorian Gray took me off the hook
The dream made me weep and shudder with terror.
The one whom I love, I planned to kill her
I planned to kill her while I slept
The grossness of this I cannot forget
Cold, cruel, bloodthirsty murder.
"Please tell me she's alive, tell me she's not dead!!"
I cried out full of shame, repugnance, dread.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
A Fruitless Search for Faith
You believe in jesus
in krishna, in ram
fasting, chanting, praying
you offer flowers to lakshmi's painted smile
taking it as benign and kind.
Faith fills voids, gaps in our selves
making us whole
fills gaps too in what we worship
Only completeness can give of
make us complete.
I have always been an atheist
agnostic, free thinker, whatever
a disbeliever.
I never believed in god.
I have faith in a woman
in pain, in fear
in times of trouble
I believe in her.
gathering shards of my broken self
filling empty spaces in me
making myself whole, through her
my image of completeness.
But a woman has no painted
I can imagine as benign and kind
she breaks me into a million shards
and I struggle to make myself whole
through her.
Ironical. Paradoxical.
Life has made me cynical.
a wry smile on my face,
I wonderwho was the bigger fool
You or I.
do give me responses!! and tell me if there are lines I should cut, edit, or change!!
You believe in jesus
in krishna, in ram
fasting, chanting, praying
you offer flowers to lakshmi's painted smile
taking it as benign and kind.
Faith fills voids, gaps in our selves
making us whole
fills gaps too in what we worship
Only completeness can give of
make us complete.
I have always been an atheist
agnostic, free thinker, whatever
a disbeliever.
I never believed in god.
I have faith in a woman
in pain, in fear
in times of trouble
I believe in her.
gathering shards of my broken self
filling empty spaces in me
making myself whole, through her
my image of completeness.
But a woman has no painted
I can imagine as benign and kind
she breaks me into a million shards
and I struggle to make myself whole
through her.
Ironical. Paradoxical.
Life has made me cynical.
a wry smile on my face,
I wonderwho was the bigger fool
You or I.
do give me responses!! and tell me if there are lines I should cut, edit, or change!!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
a different take on karvachauth
karvachauth
I will fast fast, I am savitri
may my patidev have a long, long life.
women chanting in bright saris
rising at early dawn
passing the lota of water
waitinng for the moon, praying
women's rituals
women among themselves
where are the men anyways???
I will fast fast, I am savitri
may my patidev have a long, long life.
women chanting in bright saris
rising at early dawn
passing the lota of water
waitinng for the moon, praying
women's rituals
women among themselves
where are the men anyways???
Squeezed, squahsed, pushed and punctured
no place to stand on tiptoe
no place to fall down either
breathing scarce and difficult
elbows, bags, in my face
where to keep my hands
the most awkward question
Ridiculous! Hilarious!
the absurdity of life
of a crowded delhi metro ride
the end of the journey
the doors refuse to open
How can they??!!
no place to stand on tiptoe
no place to fall down either
breathing scarce and difficult
elbows, bags, in my face
where to keep my hands
the most awkward question
Ridiculous! Hilarious!
the absurdity of life
of a crowded delhi metro ride
the end of the journey
the doors refuse to open
How can they??!!
Woman
My own truth
My destiny, My self
pull me, tug at me
out of the prison chains
I must follow
Let me be
Me.
Don't construct me, constrain me
in chains of femininity
But don't construe me either
in terms of antifemininity
I must be
what I was born to be
I must break free
Let me be
Me.
My destiny, My self
pull me, tug at me
out of the prison chains
I must follow
Let me be
Me.
Don't construct me, constrain me
in chains of femininity
But don't construe me either
in terms of antifemininity
I must be
what I was born to be
I must break free
Let me be
Me.
anonymity
car lights flash swiftly past
puddles glisten in the dark night
the long road winds, a black ribbon
faceless, nameless, shapeless people
the masses, the designated titles
I. nobody, anonymity
waiting to cross the dark road
shrouded in obscurity.
puddles glisten in the dark night
the long road winds, a black ribbon
faceless, nameless, shapeless people
the masses, the designated titles
I. nobody, anonymity
waiting to cross the dark road
shrouded in obscurity.
river rain
Raging, roaring
a creature possessed
breaking bounds
the river turns into ocean
the peepul tree dances, the sky comes alive.
sublime, awesome
ecstatic epiphany
rajghat river
river rain.
a creature possessed
breaking bounds
the river turns into ocean
the peepul tree dances, the sky comes alive.
sublime, awesome
ecstatic epiphany
rajghat river
river rain.
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