Aberration

She hates cigarettes
on any lips, on his
she abhorred.
The reek of alcohol
that traveled through the telegraphic wires
along with his desperate whispers
made her nose twitch
& fired her indignation

His hands quivered
and were cold
always
belying the warmth
he claimed
in his heart.

His passion for victimhood,
devotion to his own goodness,
assumed of course,
had him confined
to the boundries
of martyrdom
he so craved!

Thanks heavens,
for these notions, misguided
that kept him caged,
as she flapped her wings
and rose in flight....

She has been flying for years...
to a horizon
expanding
and constricting
almost
every season.

With the freedom
of choice,
she picks her orbit.
decides her pace
and charts her path.
constrained only
by the call of the roost!

Perched high
with her nest secured
as she sings to abandon-
The smoke from of his cigarette
and the reek of his alcohol filled whispers
rise up again.

Once again,
hatred envelops
the heart
filled with
someone's love.

P.S. Hate survives, unchanged. Love takes on myopic forms with time.

A Day!

A Day

Sleep breaks

The day begins on a yawn…

Piecing together

The leftover dream

Lying face down

On the crumpled bed,

Toast, margarine

A tall tumbler

Of steaming coffee

Hot and strong-

mouthing

the almost bitter

after taste

welcoming  the ‘kick’

and the forced wakefulness

in the sleepy eyes

looking beyond

the chintz curtain

the newspaper

neatly rolled

jumping into the balcony

waiting

to announce

all that happened

and all that could have…

Day breaks in

inch by inch

minute by minute

spreading itself

within the tiny space

I inhabit,

my home-

and chases me out

hurrying

on pursuit

of a livelihood

of a life

lived

second by second

rushing

running

stumbling

steadying

running again

to reach

yet another tarmac

to join

yet another race

without a trace

of a destination

yet destined

to keep pace

with every passing moment

robotic movements

die-cast mannerisms

auto response smiles

hollow

cosmetic

tiring

stifling a yawn

at the dawn

of the evening…

KARNA

Floating on waves

that could have me drowned,

I found
unconditional love

and conditional empathy.

Abandoned for pride,

embraced with humility-

contradictions and incongruity

defined my being.

Valor I had.

Honor I got.

Price I paid,

was absolute loyalty-

misplaced.

I was told,

again and again,

that I sold my soul

in bargain

for love of decorations

that adorned my chest-

and the rest!

Taunting,
un-daunting
"discarded branches

don't find roots"

-Brutes

never failed to point!

I belonged

nowhere near the sphere

of royalty and royals-

Loyal,

though I may have been,

no one could see

me to be just me...

I had a mother

who had not bothered

with the pain of my birth-

Her mirth

in bearing her other three

was overwhelmingly

full of glee.

Born of her ear,

I personified her fear-

her shame and guilt.

She got away.

I could not.

I fought

her sons-

not because

I had a grudge,

but because

they could not merge

the divide-

legitimacy

has always been

conditional.

And, more so

when seen

through borrowed morality!

I lived

the mortality-

others

were divine.

But,

revenge

was mine.

As truth revealed-

those who erred,

sealed

their fate

with a roll of dice.

Nothing was left

to further sacrifice...

I did my karma.

They betrayed

their dharma

I, live

as the one who did

what loyalty decreed.

I died

with pride,

defending a friend.

They fought

fraught

with weight of guilt!

In Search of a Tree

They flapped their wings

Scattering droplets of rain

And some bit of stern resolve-

They hopped on one foot

On the wobbly branch

Before, finally taking flight-

Wings drawn wide

Head held high

Soaring the skies

There they fly…

They fly above

the dry earth

turgid, cracked and thirsty

as wayward showers

tickle the surface

leaving the core

parched

they fly along

the billowing smoke

from chimneys

smelling of onions, spices,

flesh of their kin

fragrant and crisp

 aromas

tantalizing

the taste buds

starved of

green leaves,

for days too long

they fly beyond

the perishing green

of reserved land

for beasts and birds

but dotted with hamlets

of men who live

a beastly life

demonized

by their ilk

extorted, extracted

yet deemed

untouchables

they fly towards

blurring skyline

of uneven

columns of concrete

hosting

powers that be

who rule

and decree

etching lines,

building boundaries

they fly

away from geography

away from history

and beyond horizon

that we see

they fly

and fly

and fly

carrying their twigs

looking for

safe cocoon

to breed,

to build a nest

and rest

they fly

in search

of a tree.

Peek a boo...

she spoke in broken words

smiled often, too often in fact.

she sailed through

the iron gates

with promise of laughter and fun.

tiny shoulders

lugging the pledge

of letter and spirit

that future held.

water bottle 

dangling from her neck

her barbie smiling 

in her embrace.

she ran, jumped, played

hide and seek-

tiny hands

clutching the rails

behind the shrub

peek a boo...

and she was found.

She speaks in broken words

cries often, too often in fact.

she had sailed through

the iron gates

to the dark, stuffy dungeon

tiny shoulders

sagging with the weight

of a monster atop-

insulated, cut off 

the friendly Mr. Maker

transformed

into scary Damyan 

water spilled

her barbie fell 

from her careful embrace

with a thud on 

the cold marble

she ran, jumped, tried

to hide

tiny hands

clenched in fists

howls of fury

and pain

ringing loud....

peek a boo

she was found

abandoned.

An ode to the power of men!

honor
pride
supremacy
a show of strength
authority to subjugate
brandishing the disloyal
no
not rape
just a statement
i can
i rule
i make the rule
i have the might
your right
is washed away
in your tears
your cries
subdued
in your fears
you are marked
demonized
shamed
because
you cannot
fight
resist
protest
you are too small
not a woman
not even human
you don't count
you belong
below me
to be crushed
to be thrust
torn apart
as a spectare
a lesson
a promise
that centuries stand still
though earth
is turned on its head-
nothing has changed
nothing will
i rule
i make the rule

Night And Day

With night came the sun

Dead

Dark

Diminished

 Spent and defeated

Wanting no more than a few breaths

Of solitude and peace

Burnt of the fire within

Blistering and smarting with open wounds

That needed a cool touch

The sun sought rest

Solemn sleep for a night

Dreamless, stark, slumber…

With day came the night

A sultry seductress

Flaunting millions of glistening stars

Shadowing the sun

All across the horizon

Awake, and alert

Not giving in, even an inch

To the brightness

Drinking it all in

Preserving energies

While day is spent

Running from corner to corner

Night and day

Stay together

within

Tossing and tuning

With every tide and ebb

We build our own web

And strict confines

One has to lose

For the other to win

-          Why?

It is so easy to give in

To day or to the night

What is tough

Is to put up a fight

Day and night…

Distances

If you could

Wait at the other end

I would have crossed the ocean

I would have held the sail

I would have

fought the wind, the waves,

the whirlpool

I would have made it to the shore,

To be with you

And drown in your embrace

You were impatient

And I had distances to traverse

You started moving away

Even as I started moving in

From far I could see

You retreating beyond the horizon

I could no longer reach out

No matter how much I tried

My calls were lost in the air

Heavy between us.

You had reason to keep walking

I lost mine to make a move

Halfway down the road

I saw the end deserted

Retreating, for me

Was not an option

Can a river go back on its course?

It can dry out,

Or simply vanish,

Like Saraswati or Godavari

But then, I could not

do the vanishing act either

I was very much flesh and blood

Though you were becoming

An illusion every passing day

So, walking it was

But not to reach an end

Without any purpose, or reason or logic

Getting caught in quicksand

Being dragged in the pit of nowhere

All became part of a journey

And, interestingly

Without any effort

I did survive

Or may be since I offered

No resistance or fight nor submission

I was given way

To drift, to float, to hover

To follow an illusion

That could not wait for me to reach

And kept moving beyond

Taking me along, at a distance.

Meeting

The mind is still wet

with dew of the thoughts

you left behind.

I need to protect these-

stretch the dawn,

thwart the blazing

morning, noon

and, jump straight to

the dusk,

where the musk

of your perfume

awaits me.

Beginning or End

At every bend
it seems
the world comes to an end.
And, then
begins all over again
on a different plain.

moving from bend to bend
feet accustomed
to foreign earth
adapting, adopting
and imbibing
new fragrances
some sweet
some stale,
each carrying a tale.

when the end begins
or the beginning ends
there is a lull-
the circle of logic
temporarily suspended.
and, there creeps in
an uneven dream
or a fantasy,
if you will!
shaking off
the spoke in the wheel
and steal
a step
a single step
moving away
from beginning or end
towards the eternity
infinite.

Winds of Change

Winds of change are blowing

the sky is scarlet, 

sun, shamefaced

the dusk is melting

into a restless night

a night when no one will sleep

all eyes staring

at bright colored dreams

painted with promises

by the sellers

of hope and neigh.

Winds of change are blowing

the stark stare

is now watchful

despair is not acceptable, anymore

hands are raised

not to strike

but to hold-

shape their own destiny.

to make a choice

for a life

that will not wait for tomorrow

for the days gone by

are not past yet…

Winds of change are blowing

blood is not easily washed away

deceit is not forgotten

nor are falsehoods or bigotry

its time for taking stock

of each word uttered

and each word minced

of the theatre of silence

and mad cacophony

of acts and deeds

of shame and guilt

of white, black and grey…

Winds of change are blowing

and don't be surprised

if it blows out the light

that only burnt the darkness

and smeared the ashes around

obscuring the vision

with fog of dirt and murk

don't be surprised

if the embers are rekindled

and flames erupt

to burn down

castles of royalty and fame…

Winds of change are blowing

And, I am flowing with it

to a destination unnamed.

Time

time ticks,
tied to the wrist
in rhyme with
the pulse
I glance at it often
measuring, comparing
calculating
hours, minutes, seconds
distance, proximity, route

the throbbing pulse of time
holding me, propelling me,
puzzling me at times...
what is time?
an endless tunnel
that stretches from
nowhere to unknown?
a pulsating collection
of moments that linger
yet are beyond reach?
a breath drawn in
and released again,
in motion of life?
a distance
between two souls
that stands still
as ages go by?

or is it
the caress of known
callous palms
rough, but dear
the strange mingling
of breaths
attraction of the opposites
and distress of the aligned
time
it is said
never stands still
is it past, or passing?
Surviving in relics
buried with corpse
relished in memories...

the pulsating rhythm
tied to my wrist
tick, tick, tick
announces
every moment
as it appears
or disappears
i loose count
of moments
tied to the times
I live in.

Memories in March

Wasting words.

Wasting silence.

Humming in mind -

The memories are not quite memories,

They keep happening,

Continuously.

Not growing.

Not shrinking.

Not staying the same either!

What is seen,

Is a memory.

Whatever is not,

That too…

Everything is a commemoration

Of what has gone by...

And what is still passing.

Present is nothing,

Nor is past or future.

All is welded in one,

Static but revolving

In the confines of mind.

Talking in hushed tones-

Always.

Non stop.

Incessantly.

This medley of sounds-

Unheard.

Un-deciphered.

Un-fathomed.

Wasted words...

Wasted silence...

Resonating

Without purpose.

Without reason.

Without logic.

And yet,

It makes perfect sense -

Memories are the only ones

That survive death.

Beyond the breath,

Stretching all across-

Engulfing...

Embracing...

Encompassing...

Life.

Eternity.

Infinity.

Buzzing around-

Not wasting words,

Nor silence.

Blind Vision

I do not know what a blind can see

Blind to everything else, I see you.

I do not know the color of darkness

Black, grey, green or blue

In my foggy vision

No color seems true

I reach out and stumble

Not because I cannot see

But because you keep moving

From defined trajectory

I look for props,

my hands outstretched

with nothing to hold

in dark I tread

if at all you could once

look back and see

my blindness will illuminate

with bright ecstasy

My blindness is vast

Yours confined to me

I don’t see anything else

You see all but me

In this selective blindness

Your and mine

We have built our worlds

In strict confines

I do not want to break free

You know not you are held

We celebrate colors of captivity

Blind to everything else

I wait for the day

When my blindness is complete

I do not see my world, you

And rest in peace.

She

She could not speak

Not for herself

Nor could she keep quiet

Not when every voice was stifled

Rebellion was not her nature

Nor was silent surrender

She was alone

But part of a herd

that grazed on borrowed land

Groomed to be beheaded.

It was easy to give in

But how could she give up

A battle that she did not began

A struggle forced on her

Defeat, she could accept

But surrender, how could she? 

Her head held high

She marched to the alter

Ready for beheading

With a resolve to fight

Suddenly, the hand holding the ax

Shook

The ax fell with a thud

She walked ahead

With sparks in her eyes

She had won the day…

But the battle is far from over

Every step is a combat

Every breath defiance

She will survive,

Till she breathes,

Defies and strives

To keep the fire

kindled within. 

Tussle

A foreign flavour

A distinct aroma

Tickling

Beckoning

Follow?

Abandon?

Four walls

a roof

a window to peep out

And feet tied to bedposts,

Home?

Shelter?

Security or freedom

Stark slumber or restless belonging?

Destination or wayward discoveries?

Oh! The tussle!

Give up or give in?

A Ray of Hope

Between night and day

There lurks a ray

Scared of dark and light

Putting up a lone fight

To remain aloof and survive

Outside the realm of strife

That marks shine and moor

Persevering against the lure

of being adopted by the Sun

as a sparkle that can stun

bright twinkling stars

and timid moon with scars…

The night too can claim

the ray to be tame

and follow the Milky Way

to be lost in the spray

of white wave rippling through the sky!

Oh why! Oh why?

The ray cannot be its own

Survive, thrive, though forlorn

Can’t there be

Without the tapestry,

A life beyond the known-

a life that has borne

the struggle for it to be

What it could never be…

The choice of light or night

A battle that it could not fight

Nor give up too…

Because such rays, there are only few.