Balance??

carrying a hollow
bulging with emptiness
a cloud struggles to float
on harsh sunny sky...

sun, aflame
burns and scatters blisters
that wince, in dark
shedding tears that
kiss the earth
who grieves with them

but all of them
float on...
centuries after century...
circiling the void,
they do not sink
though heavy
with unshed lava...

and that wisp of a cloud
struggling to stay float
starts to sink
even as we speak...

maybe
emptiness within
is heavier
than all the unshed lava of the universe.

मैं तन्हा नही....

कोई तो सुन रहा है मेरी बात यहाँ पर
दीवारों से टकरा के वरना गूँजती आवाज़
चुप-चाप तोल्ता है मेरे लफ़्ज़ों को कोई
सरगोशी ने खामोशी की ये खोल दिया राज़!

Casualty of Greatness

once long ago,
a wild bush
raised its head
in a manicured garden

elegant, stylish,
well groomed and
pampered shrubs 
for company
it felt both 
elated and scared
will it survive here
or will it be picked out
at the first light of dawn?


the gardener 
compassionate and tender
takes the wild bush 
in his care
and showers 
it with all his love...

the wild bush
is well fed,
well groomed,
pampered,
as the elegant shrubs.
it enjoys the attention
the status
the aristocracy!

And, then
as it grows,
its inquisitiveness 
its abandon
its uninhibited peculiarities
is manicured routinely
by the caring gardener

it is removed from
the chirping
naughty birds
and tricks of
rowdy chameleons-
the company of
tickling insects
and charming fire-flies...

the lowly,
earthy bush
is given metered doses
of expensive groomers
healthy diet and
protective cover...
it is treated as an equal
by the great gardener....

the effort fructifies
in the manicured garden,
there is now a new occupant
rubbing shoulders with
sophisticated shrubs
with elan and gaiety...

wild bush gives in-
becomes one 
with the surroundings 
and drowns itself 
in the loving care
showered on it...


it had protected itself 
in harsh wilderness
but it could not survive
the greatness of the Gardener!

The Ocean

Twisting, turning, restless
the fluid pearl and molten silver
intertwined,
seeking each other?
trying to break free?
they race to the shore
struggling for a foothold
but the banks refuse
to entertain
the vagrants
desperate to drop anchor!

Each time their desperation
rises in waves
and spread helplessly
on coarse sand,
pleading with recalcitrant rocks
the salt of their tears
leaves a moist imprint.

They bring with the tides
all that the ocean has to offer-
shells, conch, vista, vision...
and return empty handed.
The sea, never accepts
what land and its inhabitants
fling at it
it simply walks away
throwing back all
that was tossed at it...

For eternity
the sky
showers its moisture
on raging seas
and the favor is returned
with vapors sent from
its surface...

For ages
rivers drown in ocean
with the vagaries they bring along
the ocean,
drinks up the sweet waters
and leave the dirt and mirth
to float on the shore...

Each time it is abused
it shots back
and bruises
the humanity.
I wonder,
if I throw
a smile at it,
will it throw it
back at me
with same gusto?

Faith

A question precedes and follows
every time I close my eyes
to find faith

why, what, how...
rationale, logic,
justification,
the search begins
and in the whirlpool of thoughts
so called reality prevails

And then, another set of questions
what is it,
real, surreal, or otherwise?
what is that we see-
the facade, or a mask
or a make-believe...
why should it matter,
and again, why should it not?

No, I am not faithless,
not yet,
I do believe
that the answers are there-
waiting to be found.
I follow thus
mirage after mirage...
soak in the dry sand of time
and wait for the illusive drops
that will quench the thirst
and answer all the questions...
I do believe,
faith is not dead,
it is just on comma.