Category: A03 — POEMS

Not yet empty my glass of wine,
It will, anytime, I don’t mind.
Glass is fragile, it will break,
Even mountains crack.

No wines can drowse me.
Some friends see stars mid day,
And dance on the highway,
Not me, but don’t know why I asked
‘Is your colour from my heart?
Is your smell from my sorrows?’

Meaningless was my query
But the wine was in a hurry
To respond : my color is my own
My smell is my own.
Your sorrows are your own
Your heart, not my part.

It was clear wine care least for me
That’s why I don’t worry
If the wine glass crack or break!

 

 

Three days and three nights
The sky bombarded the Earth
With downpours; each drop
Huge like an elephant tusk

When the sky regained its calm
The Sun came out in a hurry
Tearing apart the veils of clouds
Rushed to hug the Earth

There was, in a corner
An old pond
And a small lotus in it
The Sun didn’t fail
To notice a single drop
Of water on the lotus leaf
He rushed there.
In a moment
Changed the tiny drop
To a diamond !

Noticing a seed longing for his meet
The Sun touched and gave it life
‘Thought, you would come to me first’
Complained the seed.

The Light of all the lights said:
‘In a short while ,
the water drop will turn into vapors
And join the sky.
Let her enjoy her status
For a few minutes and go.

You are a seed holding a huge tree
In your stomach
Stay strong,
Serve the world long’

 

Did you see it, did you?
Someone threw away a mango seed
After sucking its sweet pulp and juice..
It fell on a garbage mount.

Cows and goats, kicked the seed,
Pushed it down; there it rotted,
Wept for days; none heard.

A mango seed is not a human baby
Whose cry will be attended,
Nor a patient in a clinic
Whose grumble will be answered
Not even a pet puppy
Whose whine will be heard.
A seed in a nasty waste heap
Nobody bothers.

Wrong, wrong you are!
There is a sky above us,
Above every thing,
Above the garbage hill
Above the Gangajel
Above me, above you!
And that sky heard the seed’s cry
And from the Sky came a god
In a golden chariot,
Driven by seven green horses
Went deep into the junk hill
Hugged the dry seed!

Can you imagine
The Light of all lights,
The heaven’s light
Hugging a dry mango seed
And giving it life!

Yes, the God gave the seed
Life and made it into a plant
The plant grew, came out a big tree
The tree yielded fruits,
Men ate the fruits
And threw again the seeds
Some fell into the garbage hill!

The sky was not angry
The sun was not angry
The Earth was not angry
And the Sun came down
Hugged the seeds
Down below the junk hill
And gave them a thrill!

‘Excited, we’re’, the seeds said,
‘You made us useful.
We’ll grow as trees
And give fruits to men!
Thankful to you, ever!
Our life – giver!’

The Sun God said,
Hugging the seeds again
‘Thank men, not me,
For not eating
But trashing you.
Eating would have been
The ending for you
And for your species!’

A single flower
Placed on your feet
Blooms my entire garden,
My life, my Soul!

A drop of water
Poured at your feet
Comes back as monsoon rains
To quench the thirst of
Parched lands

My, Lord! Unable to imagine
The quantum of reward
When my life is placed
At your lotus feet!

I can place a flower,
A drop of water
But how to place my life
At your feet, my Lord?

You pluck this flower
And place on your crown
You do it, my Lord
You do it!

You lead me, holding my hand
Wherever I go.
I feel your touch
I see your foot prints
Yes, I do.

I may not sing your songs,
But I hear your songs,
In the air, in my soul,
Everywhere,
Yes, I do.

I may not read your books
Or roll your beads
But, I know you row
My deeds, my words,
Yes, I do.

This insignificant me,
Deserve this royal treatment
From you my Master, I ask
Instantly you reply,
“Yes, you do!

“You’re a chip from my rock,
A sand from my seabed
The same air we breath
You’re me and I’m you
The size has nothing to do.”

 

Was a floating fish in the pool of my mother’s womb,
to start with
Will end as a handful of sinking ash in any river or ocean
In between life as a wild boar or mild Krishna,
Horrific half lion and half man or pacific Sree Rama.
I have passed through, still moving on.

But, what is important is I started my life in water
And will end it in water.
More than half my body weight is water
With no water I can’t survive.

Sucking watered milk from my mother’s breasts I grew
The last food I get, hopefully, will be a few drops
Of canned water from the Ganges.

I’m awestruck at the torrent rain, roaring sea waves,
Evening winds carrying water molecules
Jumping water falls, half sleepy streamlet, ice balls rolling down the hills.

Water attracts me in any form
Water enlivens me
Water is my life
I’m water.

 

Every wind that Knocks your door
Is not a gale to smash your floor
Every knock on your head
Is not a tool to drill a hole,
But, the moment a dry leaf drops
You shiver!

Dry leaves will certainly drop
Even green leaves.
All leaves and all trees
Have to fall and you know that.

Every night leads to dawn ,
Every summer to winter
Even death is a door to birth
So say the men of worth.

Like river racing to sea
And returning as rains,
And running again to join sea
You’re in a circle
Not in a straight line.

Enough of this circling
Want to be a straight line
With no curve or bend
Clearly aiming the end.
That end where all the ends end,
That end is my goal,
Want to be with the Whole
The source and solace of my soul.

 

Tears are not mere water molecules
To be wiped off by a kerchief
Or by your palm or finger.
They are the visible symbols
Of mostly pains and at times overjoy,
Mostly, they are the silent sighs of sadness,
Formed into clouds by inner pressure
And got converted to tears.

Tears are expressions
Of the suppressed feelings,
Solidified insults and injuries
Humiliation, neglect,
Rigorous tortures
Of suffocating souls,
Evaporated and gained a form
From the formless.

Allow the compressed pressures
Which gained form from the formless
To flow out.

If possible,
Say a soft word,
Just one word, but not hurting.

If possible,
Share a kind look,
For a second, not beyond,
But kind, smiling
Yes, looks can smile, words can smile.

If possible, give a hug
For a second, not beyond
But sincerely, wholeheartedly,
Sympathetically, affectionately.

The injured soul will get invigorated
And fly high to the sky
Like a baby bird just taught
The art of flying.
Like a born blind
Just gained vision
And seeing his mother’s face,
His wife’s face, his children’s face
The world’s face.
And
His own face!

 

The royal procession was moving in glory
The crowd was waving and cheering.
There was one man, his head in wrap
Who didn’t look at the chariot or clap.

Arrested and sent to jail
He didn’t remove his veil
He was brought to king’s court
The throne remained vacant

‘Go to North, go to South,
Go to East, go to West
Bring the king’, ordered the prince
All went; returned, ‘No trace’.

‘Wal, wal’, entered a puppy pet
Dragged the veiled to the king’s seat
‘Bow, bow’, it barked and said
‘King was not in the chariot’

I won’t follow the crowd
Make noises loud.
I know clearly that part.
The King is not in the chariot.
He is among us,
Along with us.

Yes, he is among us, along with us
He can be inside the chariot too.
Wherever He is, He is our King
Hail the king!