Monday, February 20, 2017


Words were the ones
that left the place first
and then
the meanings.

Following that happened
the death of the poem.

Much later
Mayan started playing
chase and catch with them
and bringing in the words
as meanings followed.

The great poem too was
resurrected by then.


Tuesday, May 3, 2016

a night . . . few words . . .

Full-moon night
Two dimensional trees
Chattering wind


Bamboo railing
Folding cot
Nightjar calls


I am

I am not


Flash of lightning

Inaudible thunder
Distant rain


What else

a mirror reflecting another
could possibly mean
except an infinite reflection
of being with
and within each other…


When you get a smile
in return for
few words,
you are assured that
the meanings are freed
from their roots


Wednesday, December 16, 2015

a journey... few words...

Good or bad
the road doesn't matter
as long as
the journey brings you
those dark shadowed trees.

The evening said
that it hasn't seen the moon
for a while
as the moon slowly drifted
behind those
colour-filled clouds.

When the moon is
journeying with you
what else can one do
except being
with the stars.

When the moon becomes a boat
and the sky an ocean
one is tempted to
reach out
to those drowning stars.

I first saw a shooting-star falling
and she saw a raising one.
The moon was just silent.

When she saw a rainbow
in the night sky,
I saw those colours
trying to
enter her eyes.

I sent few words
that reached her.
The ones that didn't reach her,
flew towards the twinkling stars
to fill their gaps.
When she started copying those words,
their meanings started jumping out
and playing with each other.
Forgetting her task,
she then joined them.

A word that ignites
a smile
can burn its meaning
to be born again.

A street lamp.
A star.
And they talk to each other.
So bright is their language.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

half-bitten apple

Sitting on the roof-top-garden restaurant
Just above the 128th floor of the building
I told him
“I think I am bitten by
the half-bitten apple”

“You think?!”

isn't that we normally do,

“Hmm... when and how did it happen”

“I didn't know it was the garden of Eden then”

“Oh that place!
We all quite know it.
A not-so-dense forest
where Adam and Eve used to
run around the trees and
sing duets”

“Yeah, the same place”


“I was just walking by and saw this
serpentine creature”

“The Satan?”

“No, the serpent”


“He warned me not to roam around
and it's better to be out of the garden”

“Ah! Atypical”

I asked him why and he replied
anyway that's what is going to happen,
over the fence
out of the garden”


“I just ignored him and continued walking
and it's then I saw this
half-bitten apple
on the ground.
In fact, there were many
thrown around on the leaf litter
as if they were organised so
to catch one's attention”


“I am not sure if it is interesting.
I picked up this one
and dreaming of a possible-Eve
attempted to bite,
I mean eat...
It's then the apple
bit me
on my nose”

“Oops... then?”

“There was no then.
I just remember that
I was already looking at this
vast and resourceful world outside the garden
and wanting to conquer it all”

“Nothing but natural”

“Is it so?”

“That's what they say”

I indeed jumped over the fence and
on my landing I felt this great urge
to shout...
and I did”

“Why 'YOU' can!
Why not 'I' can?”

“No, I then felt this
beautiful divide between
me and myself.
So the 'YOU'
and the say unto myself”


“But you know what,
after my shouting
I heard this Satan...
I mean the serpent
murmuring something”


I asked him to say it aloud”

“Did he?”

He laughed sarcastically
and shouted back at me
'Yes my dear,
you can but only if
you sustain”



“So the story ends here?”


“But what did you respond”

“I didn't.
Why should I?
It was anyway a grammatically wrong sentence.
How can he use sustain there?
He should have used survive...
Faulty rhyming...”

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Monsoon words

As the rain stops, we start the journey.
And the rain starts too...

One after another,
the leaf counts
all the drops that fall.
It's drenched memories
get stored in the roots
that connect
everything with everything...

The sky still has a rain
that can fill the whole night.
The rain instead is busy wiping
the darkness off the night.
In the morning that follows
what else can we expect,
if not a drowned sun.

As the flowing music
fills the room,
the showering rain outside
flows down the seven hills
to fill up seven more seas...

The silence that prevails
as the rain stops,
is filled with the rain that stopped
and the rain that will start...


Thursday, May 28, 2015

Story of the leaf

Once upon a time 
there was a leaf,fresh and green.

During the monsoon
it explored rhythms
with every drop of rain.

At the end of rain
it became friends
with the wind
and started telling its story
in drenched words. 
As the wind flowed
it dried those words
off their moisture.

At one dry noon
the leaf just jumped off the branch
to explore a new story.

Upon the wind's insistence
it continued to narrate its half-told story.

As the story that
consists dry words
was altogether light,the leaf's fall was delayed
and the wind continued
to rock the leaf
till it was finally asleep.

Story of the day when words got weaved

Once upon a time
there was a day
and many words
that were flying amidst
their meanings.

When the time
set up a loom
under the bright sky, 
words formed into an
eternal warp,
just to get weaved by 
the weft that was 
born out of a child.