A drop of lemon fell into
the glass of water,
transforming it’s texture, aroma, taste, personality, value,
followed by more drops to make it an appetizing lemonade.
Once water, now carries a flavour,
to maneuver in combination with inner liquids.
A drop of love falling into the heart
transforms the texture, aroma, taste , personality, value,
followed by more drops to make
an immortalized mortal.
Once a human, now carries the traits
of the divine combining the human juices of survival.
The embrace that steals you,
like a pearl secretly picked from the sea,
as a tremolo that benumbs you
from the innumerable sounds of the world
to leave you in the company of a glitter-
a matte, flattened, embedded glitter of the pearl,
in essence and beauty,
deprived of the gaudy finery,
is the embrace one lives for.
What if the word ‘Identity’ vanished
from books and bowls of language platters-
that serve spicy peppers coated with saccharine chocolates
that glues to the root cavity
to be ruthlessly extracted with the tooth,
for the decay
induces a twinge
that travels like a stream
meandering its way
through the uninhabited ,
The identity dish savours the palate
lending a prismatic taste to tongue,
but pokes a tint of colorlessness
in the gushing waters of the self
that flow to reach the source.
(Published in Setu Jan 2020)
Clarion sounds of birds
mingle with the screaming horns,
A blend crosses the ears
each day as life passes,
the acoustic tastes change tremendously,
Ears becoming dauntless
with sounds in a potpourri,
odours poured in profusion,
sounds coming from nowhere,
Trains, tractors, birds, bees,
thunder, thuds, shouts, screams,
repressed, restrained human voices-
buried, manifested, distraught, distressed.
Lovely roulades of nature subdued,
we fail to appease the clamour.
Concinnity is missing amongst the chorus,
Picayune sounds hold the stage.
The splendour of roses-
standing erect, elegant,
displaying the hue-
pink nor red,
a bit orange, a little
as a fort of a maharaja
emitting the royal resplendence
through the candelabra
reflecting myriad colours.
A territory of joy,
transcending human language.
How many new colours should
Each flower is neither pink nor red,
a bit orange, a little
A hundred more names
the pages of the dictionary
reach my mind,
yet the colouring of these aromatic gifts
remains an enigma.
They bloom, they smile,
I learn in each spring that
are just a contrast with the green grass.
It is not about loving a person
or a cat
or a lovely garden reflecting myriad colours
or a gift kept close to heart
or a car that fulfills a hundred dreams
or a house where soul seems to reside
or the attires that give the joy of being you.
Love surpasses all.
A wave carries with it loads of energy
emanating from invisible cores of the being
circulating all around
to lend a fresh vision-
a vision of eternity,
wherein the mundane considerations find no place,
where the organs,
though still the same,
refuse to behave the way they are trained,
Eyes shut themselves to open to subtler visions,
Ears turn inward to a wordless world,
Mind waits not for the lover to appear and make love.
Pain within carries the strength
enough to move the planets.
This is how love transforms.
I wonder at the divine calculator
Where each digit
the weight of millions
of micro digits
divided into still smaller fractions.
How the flow of karmas is discerned and recorded
when humans conceal tonnes of trash
in the dark recesses of their
How records of eon have
been impeccably kept
without an assistant .
regulation of rewards and punishments
leaves one in a wonder,
beyond the grasp of the tiny machine
the world takes pride
trees of memories
enter the empty spaces of mind
to stay there
for years to come.
passes by in the
the path of
It takes ages to deterge accumulations .
A short journey
fills the basket
of memories to the brim
a motley of emotions-
drip drop drip
leaving one busy for a lifetime,
of a volatile
One keeps busy ,
looking out of
of the moving train,
waits for showers ,
Takes months and years
to wash away.
Went around searching
the market, the mall, the narrow alley,
all brimming with colourful
bargains to take home.
Went around peeping
through the windows
of bedazzling jewellers,
looking for a
to honour you.
Tried much to look into
to part with a special
possession of mine.
Tried still to craft a necklace
of the rare jewels I had collected over the years.
Thought over to present
you a token of my talent-
an immortal melody in my voice,
write a lyric or an ode to our friendship.
But I found them all
low for you.
The pedestal holding our love is high,
my prayer is the only
in no wrappers,
or sparkling ribbons tied
just silence and a
glitter in my eye.
Concinnity we wish on earth
Effulgence we desire in
Beauty we want to
relish all around
Peace we prognosticate
Ebullience we look for
But the arduousness to
is getting intrinsic
as haemoglobin in
using chicanery in all
reducing humanity to a mere formicary,
walking in long queues
from paths of heaven to
gates of hell.