You are not therefore I am not...

We as we are
never suit to each other
I projected an I
that you did like
You projected a you
that I did like
And finally on our coming together
our lips stayed away from each other
without sharing the beauty of that moment...

,..

The ‘lost’ Game... (I am lost Sumi)

‘Every thing is a mirage and you are the epitome,
do you know where I keep you in my world?’,
thus your question started our evening.


I just said a ‘No...’

You were in your flow
and did not stop answering your own question
‘Nowhere but everywhere’

I could smile and tell you
‘That was an expected response’

‘What would be the unexpected then?
I would like to give you a surprise.
Don’t tell me nothing can surprise you’
Your words were pouring into our sphere.

I was still calm to say,
‘Everything surprises me equally,
but tell me what you want to tell to surprise me?’

You stepped back from the playground saying
‘Nothing, I am yet to think about it’

My play had just started then,
‘You need not think,
it will come to you otherwise’

You too were relieved as the game was coming to an end
‘Oh! then I will wait’

I was still tempted to eternalise the play
‘You need not even wait,
it might have already come to you.
Just that you never noticed’

Are we still playing the game dear?

Lock and key...

‘You are not giving anyone the key, how am I to explore your sphere?’

‘But dear, I don’t have any locks either, how am I to open myself to you?

We were there...

In that very moment you said to me
‘It is a carefully wrapped lie’
I could just smile and tell
‘No dear it is an un-carefully uncovered truth’
Do you remember why I said so?
I don’t.

Being organic...

A life’s response
A mind’s reaction
Meaningless extensions
Mysterious continuations
Dead or alive
You are there and also not
Rip it or reap it
The harvest is on
Another season may never start

isn't it Uma?

Frogs are cool
and the pond is warm,
do we need another rain?

freeze

Stories
change with the time.
Freeze a moment,
make them yours.
What else can we own?

the thread of stories

When you look at the life
in its entirety,
it’s nothing but
a pile of individual events,
and
the thread of stories
connects them all.
I just found the way
to reach you last night.
Could that be another story?

Existing non-existence …

The body feels possessive of you
and the mind is just possessed by you.
When you are near,
you have your smile
to ensure my own existence
and
when you go away,
you leave your silence
as a precursor
to my non-existence.

a whisper another magic

There was enough moonlight

You started whispering something in my ear

The warmth of your being so near

lit my sense of language and burnt it alive

At the end of your magical whisper you asked

‘Isn’t it?’

Without knowing whether to say yes or no,

I sat silently looking at your ear-ring,

like a cat looking through a raining window.

.,

a lonely path

A path not walked

reminds me of the life not lived.

You should have not left me alone

in this long non-ending way,

without making it sure

whether you will come back or not.

.,

under the crescent moon and shining stars...

We tried disowning the moments that kept us together.

Thus we left them in the possession of our

First kiss…

it is...

it is chaos

but organised

and beautiful too

just that we had to sit under that

broad sky

with our own darkness and brightness

.-.-.

Even if you fall down,

have the space to roll on...

f...l...y

The best way to fly is by unfolding the wings...

there...

Are you getting there,
where no one is waiting for you but the time,
that too to cease when you reach?

the distance

If you are not heard,

don't speak loudly,

but go near.

a white flag !?

We thus created the space in between

just to demonstrate our warfare.

I have my militia parading on my side,

you but stand alone on the other side

with a white flag and a mysterious smile.

What am I to do with this fatal passion?

play it now...

you asked me to take the notes of the silence.

who will then play the music of it?

wings and words

why don't those words of an unanswered question

hang in the air?

they may fly away to a greater sky,

when the wings are fully grown.

!.............?

You said not to ask if I don't expect an answer.

What am I to do with my questions?

. . .

That was a question expected not to be answered.

You but responded.

What am I to do with your answer?

. . .

you are the eternal giver

but of silence.

how am I to write my poem?

answering rain...

Having some pre monsoon rains,
our farmers tilled the whole patch of dry land
to sow for the only season of the year.

But then they were all deceived as the monsoon
never reached their rain shadowed land.

It is then I received your message
questioning me,
‘Have you noticed that every raindrop
when hits the surface
makes a crown shape,
just for a fraction of second?’

I decided to keep the question unanswered.

I was not allowed to be in that comfort for long.
It rained heavily in the same evening,
making all those crowns across the sown lands.

I should be meeting you at least before the harvest.

still...

By the time I learn all your answers,

you would have forgotten all my questions.

And

By the time I remember all my stories

to be told,

you would have unlearnt

the art of listening.

... not an auto response

one of my friends tried defining herself recently
and was left at the crossroad finally

on the way...

Winter dogs that sleep on the roads

for warm little sunlight,

never care about the speed of our cars.

The Raining Window

By then we had a windowed hut

on the banks of the rediscovered river.

You were sitting on the window side.

I was lying down and looking at the

dripping roof.

‘Hey come and see…

It is violently raining’

I too came to the window.

‘I agree that it is raining heavily,

but it is not violent’

‘You remember last evening’s drizzling?’

‘Yeah…’

‘How tender it was!

We could even see the ripples it made in the river.

You too had a drizzle like voice at that time,

Wasn’t that beautiful than this violent rain?’

‘That’s when you compare.

There are only good things in this world.

Nothing is better than the other’

‘Don’t be so philosophical’

‘I am not’

‘Then tell me… What do you think about me?’

‘You are beyond these good and better.

You are THE incomparable’

‘That’s a perfect lie, ha?’

‘No it’s a truth’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah but genetically modified.

:-)

I am sure you do remember that

half bitten apple?’

-----

P.S:

‘By the way, why did not you reveal

what happened to that apple?’

‘Simple… I ate it’

The Rediscovered River

‘You should not be silent for this long’

‘It’s just because your ghost can’t traverse in my sphere anymore’

‘I am very much a reality’

‘You were about to be. But when you reached the entrance, you turned
back and went into your grave again’

‘That’s your misperception. I here live in a heaven’

‘I know that you are ought to live in A heaven but not in THE heaven’

‘So, your words were to keep the ghost aside’

‘No, they were to keep the ghost my side and then to manifest into my reality’

‘Do you feel that you failed?’

‘Not me but my words’

‘Were they yours?’

‘Of course not’

‘Then…’

‘My efforts to own them led to their failure’

‘Try disowning’

‘I never owned them indeed’

‘It seems you are beginning to blame the non-existent’

‘I can’t blame myself’

‘What’s your problem then?’

‘I never told I have a problem’

‘Look. I can’t help you if you are trapped in the circle drawn by yourself’

‘I did draw the circle, but from outside. When the circle is
completed, I could see myself too being outside’

‘You are absolutely a mirage’

‘:-)’

‘Your smile is unbearable’

‘For me too’

‘Then stop smiling and say something’

‘Inky pinky ponky,
father bought a donkey,
donkey died,
father cried,
inky pinky ponky’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means life is all about restarting and reliving’

‘:-)’

‘But your smile is more than bearable. A half ripple…’

-----

P.S:

‘Why do you name this piece as The Rediscovered River?’

‘Because I just rediscovered a long steady river’

The lost river...

We decided to break the wall

from both the sides.

By the time we could make

some major damages to it,

our parts of river started gushing through the gaps.

And suddenly we realized ourselves

left amidst the remnants of an archaic wall.

We expected a united river

when the wall is broken, but

the whole river in turn got drained out.

I saw myself sitting on an island,

surrounded by a deep sea.

For you it was an oasis,

surrounded by a great desert.

There were the tidal noise and the desert silence

existing in between us.

‘Do you feel that we became silent

all of a sudden?’

‘No, I just think that we were more expressive

when the wall was there’

‘So, how do you feel now?’

‘I feel to be on the edges,

like a person trying to sleep

in a snake-entered house,

knowing a part imperfectly’

‘Hm…’

‘How do you feel?’

‘I do feel to be on the edges,

but like a person on the top of a mountain

below a moon-entered sky,

watching the whole perfectly’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘I don’t know about the differences,

but there is a similarity…’

‘Hm…?’

‘…that neither of us can

step down further’

yet another game...

We sat then to play the game of dice.
You kept some of your sights as coins,
forcing me to keep my sighs in response.
As the dice rolled, the evening too entered into a gambling night.
Your sights moved forward,
I saw my sighs moving backwards
and reaching the state of breathless.
By the time you reached the centre,
I was thrown beyond the peripheries.
You just closed your eyes as you ended the game,
which somehow left me with another magical dice.
I wish I could start the whole game once again,
not from the beginning but from the end.
See, the first rays of dawn are colouring your face.

A pile of secrets...

‘Am I troubling you too much with my absent-presence?’

‘What if you are?’

‘I wish I am’

‘You are indeed’

‘What are you going to do now?’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘It is you who are troubled’

‘But, once you told me that the troubled sea is more fathomable’

‘So?’

‘Let me be troubled’

‘Oh! Leave it’

‘Yes, if you wish’

‘Tell me something, are you attempting to write a gender-neutral stuff?’

‘Why are you asking that?’

‘Then, where have She and He of your narrations gone? Look, what you have written now. It is without She and He, I mean, You and I’

‘Hmm… The She of my poetic sphere has gone away to create her own narrative world’

‘And where is the He?’

‘He too simply followed her to enter that new sphere’

‘Oops! How come He was allowed to enter?’

‘He just needed to throw some stones in a river to make some ripples’

‘Interesting, What is He doing there now?’

‘Looking at the clouds, drenching in the rain and reading her mind just to utter her own words’

‘Do you think He would get some unusual words to weave his poetry from being there?’

‘Yes, He already got A lot…’

rippled-river

It was indeed a long-steady river.
We were sitting on a rock in its bank.
I was struggling to find out
towards which direction it flows.

At an unexpected moment you threw that stone into the river.

Ignoring that I raised my doubt to you,
‘Do you know to which direction does this river flow?’

You silently picked up another stone from your collection
and threw it again into the river.

‘Can you see the ripples?’

‘Yes’, I said.

‘What will you call this river now?’

‘May be a rippled-river’, I smiled.

You nodded in agreement and said,
‘Exactly!
A rippled-river moves towards all the directions,
towards the sea,
towards the banks
and also towards the origin’

I was still wondering
‘But, does moving mean also to be flowing?’

You picked up the third stone,
‘It’s up to you to decide’ -
and threw it as usual into the river,
just to make those eternal ripples.

it has been raining...

Another dark night,
The lantern in your hand created the way for us.

There were signs of a distant rain in the air
and we were walking towards it.

I wanted to hold one of your hands,
But you maintained as if they were your unfolded wings,
I was thus deprived of the warmth of being together.

Our sky got some of the early lightning,
By then the rain too had come towards us and it started drizzling.

Awaken from its yearlong drought,
My earth discovered some drenched words for you.
“Too sad that it’s dark now.
We can only feel but can’t see the rain”

I saw you smiling in the dying light of the lantern.

‘Isn’t it enough that we can feel the rain?’ was the reply
I expected from you.

You but had something else to say
“That’s why we are having these lightning dear,
to see the rain majestically”

And that was a great revelation.
Every lightning from then showed the rain in its wholeness,
from the sky to the earth.

The mischievous mind came up with another question
that I directed towards you
“Why do we have these thunders then?”

You never replied me.
The unanswered question of mine,
flew between us till it seemed to get dissolved in your silence.
One of the lightning showed you fiercely looking at me,
followed by a not-so-musical thunder.

We then did not walk much forward.
At some intuitional point you decided to get back
and I followed you as privileged as ever.
On our way back you held one of my hands
and your hand was still warm enough.

The rain became heavier, I was not actually ready -
to get drenched from the core of my heart as it happened.
One could simply wonder the way you answer me every time

Every sound adds to this silence...

.....

.....

.....

.....

.....

the doors and the darkness

It was an utterly dark night,
with no stars and no moon.
Also our lights went out of charge.
We but stayed back within our spaces,
distant to each other and
identified ourselves by one another’s voice.

It was your turn to put a question
“Why do we need these doors in the darkness?
Don’t you think they stand void in nothingness?”

I was not that trained in answering like you
“The doors are here to curtail the freedom
that the darkness provide.
We too are not that bright from our inside”

I could sense a little annoyance
when you asked
“You like to confuse all the time,
should I curse you to be in darkness forever”

I learnt your smile this time and replied
“Sure… but be aware that
every curse from you makes my space
brighter than before”

was that !

Was that
Eve's half-bitten apple
that you threw at me
last evening?

a word and a sea of meanings

I started missing my time.
I am realizing that needs are indeed needless.
I contradict with myself than anyone else.
Life seems dead next to me.
The logical self tells me that
a word from you doesn’t need to bring me
the meaning.
I am least bothered and being illogical,
drowning here in the sea of meanings
knowing well that it is you,
who have that life saving word.
But, what if you don’t utter it?
as I discovered once that
you are the messiah of silence.

somewhere we are...

That evening I started telling you
about my dream of reaching nowhere.
But your initial words
and the silence towards the end,
guided us to reach that roofless hut.
I then emptied my pockets
off the waiting smile that I collected
from a bus stop prostitute of the city.
The smile made the space brighter.
We had nothing much to talk about.
I was lying down next to your bed
thinking to reach you somehow.
You were sleeping as you discovered
the knack of reaching nowhere.
The next morning
we still journeyed together,
being not sure
whether that was a kind of
coming back or going away.

a wall and a forest

There was just a thin line
in between us.
We built a wall over it.
That night we were sitting
on the wall,
having a not-so-perfect
moonlit forest in front of us.

Being set in that poetic sphere,
I asked you
‘What if I get lost into this forest?’

You had your usual smile
before replying me
‘You can’t.
Your fears will bring you back
to this wall’

the sky and the earth

It was indeed a dark path,
under the wide open sky.
She was walking in the front,
with a torch in her hand.
Almost on the middle way,
she remembered to remind me
‘Watch the steps’.
Being at that extreme point,
I naturally thought about Sumi.
Started guessing
what she would have said
if happened to be there.
……………………………….
……………………………….
……………………………….
……………………………….
……………………………….
Enough guessing,
she at the most would say
‘Watch the stars’

middle-wing

It was a political day
The bird seemed to be silent in the beginning
Then started its interrogation
‘What wing you are?’
Astonished tree set back for a while
and then returned a ‘What?’

‘Come on! I am asking whether you are right-wing or left-wing?’
reinstated the bird.

Tree had a long breathe before it could utter a word
‘I was till date thinking that this wing-business is only for you birds.
By the way tell me if there is any middle-wing?’

With a little surprise this time
replied the bird, ‘But you can’t fly with a middle-wing’

The relieved tree thus ended the conversation,
‘Why should I fly at all, after all I am a tree?’

pains of the tree

Once asked the bird

about the pains of the tree.

With its burden of enlightenment

the tree then replied

'A tree do feel the pain

but it forgot the ways of expressing it

a long ago'.

Next moment in it's flight

the bird happened to think that

it's unnecessary to be rooted in wisdom. 

the first song of the monsoon

That day the tree asked the bird

to sing the first song of the monsoon.

'I will sing it when the monsoon starts'

replied the reactive bird.

Then came the words of smiling tree

'But dear bird, it's that first song

which brings the monsoon.

As long as you restrain yourself

from singing it,

you are depriving the world of rain'

here we are...

And you finally declared that

it's needless to be said.

But no one has told me whether

it's needless to be listened?

Unpretentious...

'That was a little of more utterance, unpretentious'

said the bird...

'Could there be an utterance when there is no pretension?'

wondered the tree...

story of the ways

The ways are shorter

than our stories.

And in our longer ways

we remained silent.

the doors

Once told the wind

with its silent words,

'I am indeed keen to live

in the space between

those two doors,

but not when they are shut...'

inequals

You pretended to love.
I loved to pretend.
And we never met each other.

on the way

I felt I reached home.
From there I called this friend,
who once told me,
'Travels take you to nowhere
but make you to be stable in yourself'.

He was supposed to meet me then.
I thus asked his whereabouts.
He replied like a cool devil,
'I am on the way', and
he added, 'as usual'...

...

Was that blood in my veins?

Why don't you ask your knife
and tell me now?

...

...and you told me
to read between the lines
by sending your message
as a blank page.

zen?

Once told my master that

only empty cups get filled.

But strangely,

my cup is filled with emptiness. 

Beyond'less'...

Pointing to a distant green land,

beyond the river,

I remember once you told,

that's where you reside.

In that mid summer,

the river was just a dry sand path.

We then naturally parted.

I was again reminded of you,

when the south west monsoon started.

I rushed to get to see you.

By reaching the place of our parting,

I got to see an overflowing river,

having no banks.

Drenched under the pouring sky,

I was ought to think

one of my friends asking me a question,

'How far a lizard can run?',

without letting me to think

he answered it himself,

'Not beyond the fence...'

...

The poet is dead ...

It is now impossible to resurrect

even the common man out of him...

...

Bigger dreams

and a shorter night.

Nothing much could be done

before the dawn.

I saw the poet's spirit dead

on the morning bed.

...

It was my sole search...
Just for a word.
At last, when I found it,
It was just void...

...

Creation is beyond all judgments...
Everyone has the right to be different
in creative ways...

...

it's not the content
which makes the play interesting
but the process of staging it

...

... but not all the actors
deliver dialogues
according to the script.
there are some words
they utter differently
every time the play is on ...

...

... and that was a wet evening,
no drenched bird can rest in its nest,
it's better to fly around
as the sky would be a little warm ...

...

Even a single stone,
if thrown at me,
can make thousand ripples.
I was just a pond,
standing still...

But it's not that easy
to wait relentlessly,
just for a single stone.

I don't want to be flawless
and I either can't be 'flow'less...