Calcutta Norwester

The debris had been gathering
for quite some time.
Dreams, ambitions and desires
had been crushed
And it’s dust lay in heaps
In corners and crevices of the heart.
Faith, belief and convictions
Had been torn to shreds,
Which lay in scattered
All around.
And then,
The storm rose!
The power of the storm blew away
All the debris hithertho accumulated
The dust spiralled out
Of the crevices, corners and lanes
And was thrown far away.
Then came the rains!
The cool, fresh rain water
Lashed and trickled to a spread,
And in a comforting caress
Swept away all that remained
of the remnants of debris.
Then the leaves on the tree outside
Broke into a jig.
They swayed, twirled and tangoed.
Celebrating the lightnes

s of heart!

Ode to poetry

I need a poem,
filled with rhyme,
rhythm,
inciting love lorn sighs,
or drawing tears from the eyes.
Poetry-
romantic and dream filled.
of seeing hope in the heart being instilled.
of valour of common folks on streets.
of tales of struggle to exist.
Poetry-
under the blazing sun.
in form of the Krishnachura blossoms.
Poetry-
on soccer field in fluidity of motion.
Poetry-
in defiance and hailing liberation.
In salute to man’s poverty alleviation.
Poetry-
the scent of the working multitude,
picked up
and scattered by the evening breeze.
Poetry-
in the flailing footsteps of the child.
bent with load
on his back and in his mind.
Poetry-
in the excited hyperactivity
Of mongrels by the roadside
love sparkling in their limped eyes.
Poetry-
in the fragrance
let loose by the shower drenched earth.
in the pain that wells up
When someone very dear departs.
Poetry-
in the twitter of the birds,
bidding adieu to the sun going down!
In the hurried footsteps of the multitude
from work, homeward bound!
Poetry is life,
Poetry is in the mind!
Poetry is breaking shackles
that tend to bind!
Poetry is Ram!
Poetry is Rahim!
Poetry is all about
a romantic paradigm!

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From my window on an airplane…

The colours of spring-
Bands of saffron and yellow,
Bounded by red-
Spread in single stroke
All along the horizon.
The hideous darkness,
Spreading it’s cloak and
Smothering the sun in its vice grip,
Squeezed every ounce of colour
From the sun.
The colours have drained out
In a constant stream and
Spread all along the length of the horizon.
Spring,
in all its glorious shades of colour
Squeezed out of the sun,
Lay before my eyes
Spread across the length of the horizon!

A winter morning

The sun flows down,
Running its way through
the gaps and crevices
in the curtain of mist that
hangs down from heaven!
The curled up, stiff world,
awaits eagerly-
To unwind,
To uncoil,
To bathe in the warmth,
To spring back!
The flowing sun finds its way,
tentatively,
Creeping over the garbage vat,
skirting round its corners
and swamping the pile of garbage.
The lady lay there,
shivering.
Seeking some vestige of warmth from the crooks and crevices in her own bony body.
Her tattered clothes make a desperate attempt,
To cover her fragile frame in bits and pieces.
The sun creeps further and
Spreads a coat-
A soft caress,
A blanket of warmth,
Over her curled up frame!

Changing Times

The highland lass doesn’t sing anymore.

She spews profanities instead

as she stands by the road.

The Road!

That stands out like a black scar,

as it runs in from the horizon far,

Dissecting the highland and

Devouring the meadows green.

The road is the recipient Of her curse.

For like an enticing Apsara,

It had lured away her man.

The city on the other end of the road

Is her man’s current abode.

Eternity 

Standing bare, naked,
Must have brought a sense of shame.
The days of glory were long gone.
The layer of plaster that once was,
Hung loosely , chipped, in patches,
Having lost the battle with nature’s elements since long.
The bare skeleton of the house stood at the street corner.
Dark, desolate, lonely,
Devoid of life.
No one cared.
No one was left to care!
Except, perhaps, the banyan tree!
The tree had enveloped the house,
It’s roots moving all over,
Creeping over the ledges,
Slithering down the walls,
wedged firm into the cracks and crevices in the wall,
Travelling inside through the broken window frames and hanging loose over the plaster peeled walls,
Like decorations of brown streamers!
The banyan tree had once sprouted in a corner of the terrace.
The house was, then, full of life.
The young sapling had drawn  nourishment and dug roots.
Today, when everyone had gone away,
the banyan tree was there-
like a guardian mother
It’s arms wrapped protectively.
Like an inseparable friend.
Like two lovers
Hugging and clinging on to each other,

Till eternity!

For all she cared…

Her hands were on her hips.
Her torso was in a twist.
Head held high,
She shook her shoulders
in rhythm to the music
And threw away the burden-
Of sorrow,
Of shame,
Of others’ expectations
That had hitherto rested heavy
On her lissome​ shoulders.
The stars watched,
As she danced in the backdrop of the flickering amber.

 

 

The Beggar maid 

Just a piece of cloth covered

Her withered lean frame.

The heat from the friction

That she has had with life for years had

Shrivelled her skin,

Making it look like the raisins!

Layers of dust

that had risen by her constant journey through life

Sat like a coat on her exposed torso.

Her head was a mass of hair,

Shade darker than her skin

And matted with dirt and grime.

With a gait, unsteady and slow,

Like a toddler’s halting steps,

She came to me and pleaded-“I need some place to sleep! ”

At times like these,

I always wish

that I had the power to play God!

Bonding

The rains this year have been quite heavy.
The clouds came in droves.
An army
In relentless pursuit
To seek out the culprit
Who had mercilessly decimated their friends,
the tall green trees.
They were their playmates-the trees!
Nestled in their leafy boughs
They would rest their weary body,
Before moving on.
The trees would shake in silent laughter
As the clouds brushed against them,
Wetting them in the process.
Amidst the harsh stony concrete
That rises high and
has replaced the trees,
The clouds can no longer feel at home.
The bond has snapped.
Liveliness has been replaced.
Sensitivity is lost.
The rain falls heavily.
The clouds grieve
The death of their friendship- the absence of the trees!

Passing on..

Suspended in air
In a haze
that the night was in the process of slowly assimilating,
He looked out on the river,
And saw life floating by.
Life-
that was memory now,
That which had ditched him
hours ago,
That which he could only long for now.
Life-with its omnipresent nuances.
It’s cravings and desperation.
It’s pain inducing demands.
It’s relentless cyclicality.
He saw life for one last time,
From close quarters.
Then the wind picked up speed
And tore into the haze.
He was now a million fragments,
Which assimilated into
Nature’s elements. IMG_20170210_092624