When hands tremble
and refuse to lift the requisite loads of life,
When legs shiver
and refuse to take me to places,
When eyes feel the pain
due to the dust of life-
Invisible yet irking,
When brain is clouded with a grey haze
not letting light inside,
I think of you
who will adore me without these,
Embrace me in the dark of my life,
Hold my finger to help me tread
the remaining path of my life.
Humans were
he-men
High-men
Heaven men
All was true.
Now they are hue-men
coloured with shades of ego,
It is a world of the
minds
wanting to subdue more minds.
The real ‘we’ disappeared
somewhere amid the clouds.
We sit in meditation to find the lost ‘we’.
Mind takes over
to see the existence evaporating
repeatedly.
Humanity now
is a story of minds
not of existence.
Ideas proliferating like cells in body,
Seemingly outweighing oxygen in the air.
A dramatic story of humans, the superior race.
All through the sunny days of childhood
I kept nurturing my brain
Looking after the minutest needs
Toning it with the best lubricants
To excel in tasks given to me
Flattering it with all buttery phrases
So that it gives me all the pleasure
the world asks for.
Poured in almonds
Tuned it to the finest stores of knowledge –
To find one fine morning
That it had its reins tied to the heart
That would not listen to its pleas-
Logical and empirical.
Heart measuring distances
Finding ways to squeeze them
To grab them
And keep in its wrist
Deciphering new scriptures of love
Hidden in sands of time.
Wanting to unravel
All that the world does not want
Lest its pursuit of pleasure is hampered.
Heart knows no petty pleasures
Carries an appetite
For ecstasies
Rare and unfound.
Gyres of thoughts
Spiraling up and down,
Rottening the whole being
Earned in births,
Karmas and sanskaras
Like coins of gold and silver,
Rattling,
Awakening the being from slumber,
Thoughts intoxicating
to sink deep into the abyss,
Where one can’t find oneself
What is lost? No idea.
Mind can think
Heart can feel
What is lost? No idea.
Senses perceive sumptuous sights
so full of life.
What is lost? No idea.
The small crevices
The tiny holes
The broken lines
in the wall of my life
are now being filled
with amorous poems,
Roses and lilies,
Some savoury recipes,
Never relished before,
A couple of honest readers
Who would hold my book in hand
And sleep in peace.
How would a man know
the pain of a koel
singing doleful melodies on a branch?
Its shrill piercing the skies
shoving all other birds to the ground,
Its words stirring
the deep rooted rocks of the sea,
Breeze carries the heaviness
of the plaintive voice,
Sun pacified in its intensity.
The pain of separation
of a tiny koel from its lover
spreads like an uncontrolled cyclone
drenching trees around
to invoke blessings from heavens
to let a glimpse at least.
The entire gamut of knowledge
flew away in smoke,
When pangs of separation
clasped hands and feet,
shackled in thick chains
with innumerable needles,
piercing through the delicate skin
to declare all other things perfectly futile.
Such is the journey of the heart,
Not many travelers on side
moving on in camaraderie
of subtle souls,
Nodding silently at the selection,
Books of facts refuse to reveal
the roadmaps to such journeys.
Heart draws its own roadmaps,
Colours it with myriad emotions,
Invents its own signboards,
Departs from the roads of life
to sketch its own passages
on the arc of the heavenly rainbow.
Surrender
The preconscious debts
aggrandize the realm of karmas,
Nature holds the neck tight
Expeditiously dragging one
to obey its orders.
You scorn and it berates,
whips hard enough to make you weep.
One cajoles
Falls at the feet
Addled
Not knowing being dragged for which karma!
It adjures to let know the reasons at least,
for acumen fails.
But ways of destiny stay abstruse.
Compunction leads to nowhere.
One has to bow the head low
So low that the need to comprehend remains no more,
Needs remain no more.
Surrender is the ultimate poultice.
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