Dusk

The ruins of Bhangarh


The sky bears down upon the Earth
A kaleidoscope of ebbing colours
Shades of dark and ashen blue
 
Far away in the horizon the rising stars blink
A little dazed, a little fazed
And the moon takes hesitant steps towards the canvas of night
The bride of heaven
 
Draws a veil of grey inch by inch
Over a face deep in thought


Life
as though takes a U-turn
Solemn, Grave, Unbending


Dusk
A moment resonates in solitude
Promise of a Certitude
Deep, distant dies in   


Silence
Cascading in waves




 Deluge
Engulfs
   
 

A FEW LINES

একটা ছোটো খাতা
কিছু কালির আঁচর
আর একটা গল্প
ভাবছি লিখে ফেলি
জীবন আর কল্পনার জোট
জমবে ভালো
আর তোমার যদি পড়তে গিয়ে
মনে পড়ে যায়
এই ফাঁকে
কিছু বাশি পুরনো দিনের কথা...

A few yellowed pages
Drops of ink
A little story
Thought I'd pen
A heady mix of life & lies
A perfect blend
Perhaps it might 

Ring a bell...

THE WANDERING MAN

वह कौन है जो तेरी गलियों की खाक छानता है
अंधेरों में सिसकियाँ भरता है और उजालों में डूब जाता है
दीवारों पे लिखता है नाम और आंसुओं से मिटाता है
घर का पता पूछो तो बौखला जाता है
लोग पागल करार कर तो दिया है उसे
पर मुझे पता है वह सच तलाशता है


The man wanders in the labyrinthine gullies
Of life kissing dust hovering like the clouds
In dark ditch of mind he finds a quaint solace
And pales in fright as day light seeps through the windows
He has erected walls around him scratching names on them
And rubbing these off with tears
I ask him his whereabouts he looks lost and queer
They say he is a mad man who seeks the truth in the debris of time
I know he is a seeker, has come a long way and shall
Melt away with time nameless, clueless, sieving the truth out of
Ages of illusion
I chase thee unknown in my dreams and poems

YESTERDAY IS NO MORE

Once upon a time
My house fronted
A wild meadow
With groves of huddled green
Raising long arms to
A limitless horizon of
White washed blue
On which lazed
Pillows of crystal clouds
Shimmering in
The sun shine so bright
Dazzling the eyes
Embalmed in the night by
The daub of a rotund moon
Piled with frozen ice amidst
A sprinkle of glassy stars
Melting into a smiling rainbow
Soon after a happy shower
Maddeningly gleeful in
The barmy breeze blowing in
Fragrances of faraway lands
Caressing rows of flowers blooming
Like the well scrubbed cheeks of
The baby boy just across the street
Serenely ambling past the tranquil abodes
Without a bump, a hole or a
Bloody scar……..

Once upon a time
Today as I shade my eyes
With my wrinkled hands
And squint up

The sky seems lost
The clouds smudged
The sun shine prickly
The moon hazy
The stars dull
The rainbow stolen
The showers sporadic
The greenery faded
The breeze harsh
The flowers withered
The cheeks sunken
The infants stooped
With adult worries

And the meadow browbeaten
By tall, black, sooty chimneys
Belching fiery
Smoke
Grime
Grease
Dirt
Standing arrogantly by a sluggish, slovenly drain
Murky in hue slimy in texture
Dark in contours wallowing in stench
Once though was a giggly light feet joyful stream

I blame it on a myopic sight
But they say the world now
Has a jaundiced view
Is that true?

HE SLEEPS IN THE SHADE

She picks up the corners of her billowing skirt

tucks them in an unyielding knot

stoops down and picks up with both hands

the mammoth implement high above her head

bringing down with compelling force, right

on the stone bed supine on which rests a slim blade

of iron twisted in a strong braid.

The morning glides by giving way to noon

whence she balances rows of bricks

one on top of the other

on the fulcrum of her delicate head

and sways up the rickety bamboo steps

with a strange, sultry grace

while the unruly strands of her locks

waltz in unearthly haste in tune with the wind

atop the construct she works till the sun approaches doom.

In between her toil she steals a peep behind the ancient peepal tree

tied to whose sturdy branches is a make shift hammock

swinging indolently in the breeze.

Once-white now soiled beyond remedy a sheet of cloth slightly frayed

holds a slender sliver of life deep in sleep

forging an unfaltering bond with dreams

his innocence caught in a broken twig clasped tight

in baby fingers, soft and a little muddy under the nails.

As the sun scorches the mother’s limbs to more rugged sheen,

he sleeps in the shade of clumped leaves and branches of a parent tree.

As night kisses the sky the mother ambles down the lane

homewards, a solitary dame with a bundle carefully

locked in arms, reclining on her fragile blade.

Faraway on the other side of the stream a swirl of smoke

rises up the sky; hazed in the mist is a lonely frame

the damsel treads across the field towards her modest hearth

head held high, carrying the joy of her nomadic life

Mother and child embroider a tale every day

On a blank, colourless, threadbare, wanton sheet.

UNCLASPED THOUGHTS

A broken twig

A chunk of life

Wrapped in an autumn leaf

A tilted moon

A jilted sky

A pair of leaking rainy eyes

A poignant plea

A splendid serene

Ethereal dream of clinging bliss

A sultry noon

A brazen sky

A winding path of molten ash

A chiffon spread

A placid morn

A breeze with a haunting song

What do I choose?

What do I pick?

An autumn leaf

A tilted moon

A jilted sky

Rainy eyes

Poignant dreams

Ashen path

A hissing morn

A singing breeze

Or

Just a neglected

Broken twig

ONCE AGAIN TO SUNITA

Don't hide behind those shades

It is nothing but age

Which gives you an edge

Over others

Life has not bade

A goodbye as yet

To you either

This is just the beginning

Of a new inning

To take up all the challenges

With new found

Prudence and grace

Remember, you know much more

Than the rest

You know what is best

You can now understand much better

And laugh at (I do ) others

Who know not their

Follies vain

As for myself

I wanted to age always

To be taken more seriously

Than the rest

Now I have aged

I am the happiest best

That is why I say

With zeal and zest

Please put away those

Dark, demonic shades

Let us both enjoy our age