Sunset

The sun sets at the edge of the ocean,
But still, the water did not turn to steam,
Nor the sun's heat was lost in commotion,
Harmony of opposites, it would seem.

However "seems" it is, indeed, it is,
For such an edge, indeed, does not exist,
The perfect harmony we see in front,
Is as ephemeral as that moment.

For eons, it was a picture of love,
The tryst of the hot yang and the cold yin,
Mayhaps, people understood and behove,
That love was just a sunset, from within.

Yes, it is raining

shattered mirror shows
my pieces; together put
can see me now whole

एक अभिमन्यु (An Abhimanyu)

राह मैं युहीन चलते चलते,
दिल अपना आता हैं भरकर,
उन सूनी वादियों के याद मैं,
दिल चिल्लाता हैं खामोश होकर|

खड़े वहाँ थे हम अकेले,
ब्रह्मांड से लिपटे हुए मगर,
लग रहे हैं अब अकेले,
लोगों के इस भीड़ मैं रहकर|

उन वादियों मैं अगर मौत भी होती,
खुशी खुशी हम मर भी जाते,
सह नही पाते स्वाभिमान की मौत,
इन इंसानों के बीच रहकर|

वेतन, किराया, क़र्ज़ के चक्रव्यूह मैं,
फसे हुए हैं सब अभिमन्यु,
इस ब्रह्मांड को बिना देखे ही,
मर जाते चक्रव्यूह के अंदर|

राह मैं युहीन चलते चलते,
दिल अपना आता हैं भरकर,
चल काम पे लग जा देर हो गयी,
कहता वही बेशर्म होकर|

---

Translation:

As I walk along the road sometimes,
my heart feels deeply moved,
I remember that beautiful valley,
and my heart is filled with silent screams.

I was standing there alone,
feeling the entirety of universe around,
Now I feel alone,
among these crowd of people around.

Even if I died in that valley,
I would have died quite happily,
Can't stand the death of self respect,
by living among these humans.

The trap of salary, rent, and loan,
has ensnared a many abhimanyus,
without ever seeing this universe,
fated to die within this trap.

As I walk along the road sometimes,
my heart feels deeply moved,
Now get back to work, its pretty late,
my heart now tells me unashamed.

---

Notes: Abhimanyu is a character from the mythology of Mahabharata who dies, quite young, in a trap on the battlefield.

Amaterasu

She wakes up with the sunrise,
catalyzing stove for food,
sunflowers raise their head,
and follow her beat throughout
the day; until the time,
when the sun sets in. She is
Amaterasu of our lives painting
the landscape our existences.    

Life is a sham

How surreal are the dreams,
that they break as they often do.
What must He need,

to see all the prayers through?
The syrian child,
lying motionless on the beach,

or the millions stranded,
at the horizons of freedom without speech?
If He works,

through the deeds of good men,
does he do so,
through those of evil as well?

And why not?
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.

One can imagine him, in front of the stage,
entertaining himself over this sham,
for is it not that the hand that created the tiger,
also created the lamb?    

Angst

There is an unease that writhes inside;
The regrets, like the tides of ocean,
From the past, swell, rumble and collide
With the shores of the present; the commotion,
Can be seen from the seats ringside,
On the sandcastle of mind; setting in motion,
those questions of "What could have been?"

Valentine's Day

Cupid shoots his arrow
through the heart
it bleeds
slow
painful
death.

She walks along the shore,
picks up an oxeye daisy,
runs her hand at the back of her skirt,
straightening,
sits on a rock,
muttering,
"Il m'aime
un peu, *pluck*
beaucoup, *pluck*
passionnement, *pluck*
a la folie, *pluck*
pas du tout *pluck*
The dead flower, not even allowed to have its petals.

He approaches his love interest,
requests a kiss,
under the mistletoe,
a poisonous plant
that showers the gift
of nausea, diarrhea
and even death.

Romeo died.
Juliet died.
Heer died.
Ranjha died.
All those who love die.
And those who haven't,
are they truly in love?

And people continue to ask me,
why I dread Valentine's day?
And I continue to tell them,
will you attend your own funeral?

Nirbhaya

It casts a pitch dark shadow on the easel,
The broad canvas with its banality of white.
And brushed thoughts coloured of teasel,
Proceed to violate what's considered right.
A face emerges; product of this violation.
But devoid of signs of divinity,
Shapely bosoms take place of the eyes,
Then her curves, navel and femininity.
Year after year, more than half a century,
Men stood in front of this canvas,
Unable to discover their mind's enemy,
Lacking faculties to understand thus.
And year on year, seems like eternity,
This painting continues to paint reality.

---
This poetry is based on Rene Magritte's Rape ( http://www.renemagritte.org/rape.jsp ).    

Clocks

The twelve wise women and men,
coming together at a roundtable,
feasting on time now and then,
served by three waiters able;

one long, old, and quite slow,
one short, young and orderly,
and the very short one though,
gallivants around happily.

The wise ones look out,
at the world far away but near,
studying the humans throughout,
their happiness, sadness and their fear.

Their murmurs and whispers,
holds wisdom of the ages.
Until the universe's winters,
this scene never changes.

The Sonnet of a Frog in the Well

Replete in world are strange mouthful loud frogs,
who view their world through that one hole in well,
honing their skills of smashing the keys on blogs,
while enjoying comfort in place they dwell.
Not knowing the zenith of the heavens above,
nor the nadir of the earth beneath their damn feet,
but still will speak many words on war to love,
with ideas formed while suckling mother's teat.
The ears of democracy hears voices of all,
and so must hear voices of these loud frogs,
rueful are the state of affairs, they appal,
the rich are getting richer, the poor going to the dogs.
From my crumbling well, voicing dissent of mine,
Aren't I just another frog in line?

My Dreams

My dreams are snowflakes,
that yearn for burning summer,
held by a dreamcatcher.

Meeting in the Ballroom Dance

A crescent moon is your smile,
reflects light of those around,
being mysterious all the while.

Like the tide in the ocean unbound,
the swellings of my heart beguile,
losing track of the time unwound.

What secrets does your darkness file?
To you, my emotions, now in thrall,
and to you, I offer a dance in trial.

Requesting your hand in this ball,
O' stranger, who has me in a trance,
tell my fate, ease my chest in squall.

You grab my hand and take a stance,
our legs then move in a serenade,
we speak unspoken through this dance.

Blitzing my heart with a fusillade,
night is over, much to my chagrin,
I look around, with your farewell's bade,
the crescent moon is now etched within.

Cat Closes Its Eye and the World goes Dark

Surely there are things better for me to do
Than cleaning my room or making my bed
Sweeping the trash under the said bed that's left
Unkempt under the covers, "it's over", I said;
The lesson of responsibility or
The lesson to clean up after myself
Never to be learned; and I would be mad
To not feel happy with things as in itself.
And I wonder that's why we shut ourselves
Away from things we don't want to believe
Living in a world of our principles
And self-righteousness we deceive
Ourselves in a stupor of happiness
Turning a blind eye to the darkness
Thus drawing the final curtain over
Our eyes to the truths of the world's carcass.

Life

Like sunlight passing
through a stained glass;
we are innocent, pure
at life's beginning,
coloured by our stains
reaching the other side.

Cast Away

I sat there
on the island
under the shades
facing the stormy sea
and the usual pensive clouds
now turned black searing the sky.

The winds
heavy, swift
tousles my soul
like a wet laundry
but without clothespin
it unhinges and flies away.

I turn to
burning boats
and then bridges
reminiscing the days
of the happy sun and beach
now only awaiting death's knell.

Just another day and I scroll down

And I scroll down
And a man shot fifty people inside a gay bar.

And I scroll down
And a small little girl got kidnapped from a mall.

And I scroll down
And a beaten hindu women was forced to eat beef.

And I scroll down
And a man still shouts that he wants to build a wall.

And I scroll down
And I scroll down

And I scroll down
And I scroll down

---

Rendition of the poetry on Soundcloud.

What I fear is fear itself

The swallow in the sky
skin gleaming in the sun
had freedom in its wings

flew above a trash dump
and caught its reflection
in a cracked mirror

it tweeted in horror
of the sky breaking apart
and it flew and flew hard

to the edge of the world
in despair and desperation
to save from impending doom

and the cracked mirror
that envisioned the future
got drowned in more trash

never to see another;
but the swallow continued
to hide from the sky.

Secret First Kiss in the Backyard

Your lips quivered as it was caught
in a kiss; but the fight did not end
as the fragrance slithered down like
a snake to take a bite of my heart.
And we both walked away wounded.

Virgin Strip Club

I sat there fully clothed; among
hundreds of bare bodied beauties,
swarming like fishes in the river.

They bared so much and yet so little,
and their forceful gazes conveying
unabashed desire for the greens.

They came at me without hesitation,
and all I could do was avert my eyes,
awash with sweat in a conditioned room.

I sat there fully clothed; among
hundreds of bare bodied beauties,
scared like one who knows not to swim.

Facing my fear, I met their gaze,
I committed the curves to memory,
for it is rude to not appreciate -

their beauty, their strength, their
hardwork in their remarkable showcase;
I felt my inner self surface through.

I sat there fully clothed; among
hundreds of bare bodied beauties,
panic stricken and white faced.

I sat there fully clothed; among
hundreds of bare bodied beauties,
forced to bare the self within.

I sat there fully clothed; among
hundreds of bare bodied beauties,
scared of what monster I might be.

Farmer has killed himself and what are we doing about it?

Perched atop a tree,
the crow has designs,
over a jug of water.

Few rocks here and there,
dropped inside; water rises
to satiate the black thirst.

And the crow went back atop,
looking smug over the bodies
of farmers on the barren lands.