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.

Story of the telephone

Once upon a time
there was a telephone
and it had only one complaint
that it had nothing
to talk
of its own
but everything else
to listen


Story of the water bottle

Once upon a time
there was a water bottle.

In it
there was a sea 
that played with its own waves.

A very tiny insect
happened to taste a very tiny drop of the sea
that spilled whilst waving.

Being outside of the bottle, 
the insect started making a hole 
at the bottom.

It tasted few more drops
from the gushing sea
that flowed out.

Then as you all know, 
it just got washed away 
to non-existence.

The sea and the bottle
were still there
for a next round
of game
awaiting another
stupid insect


Story of the torch light

Once upon a time
there was a torch light, 
being part of a bad joke.

It tried escaping
from that joke
to be part of a 
more benign one.

When it finally ended up
in a good joke
with no specific role,
 it said unto itself
'What's the fun?'


Story of the scissors

Twice upon a time
there was a pair of scissors. 

One of its blades
existed in the past
and the other in the future.

they both together could cut
only the present.


Story of the tea cup

Once upon a time
(oops again!)
there was a tea cup
sitting in between
a zen master
and his disciple.

It was their first class.
The master filled the tea cup, 
asked the disciple to fill it further. 
He obliged
and the tea cup overflowed
into the silence that persisted.
The class was over.
It was their second class.
The master filled the tea cup
asked the disciple to fill it further.
He obliged, 
but then emptied the cup back into the kettle
and filled the cup. 
The silence still persisted. 
The class was over.

It was their third class.
The master filled the tea cup
asked the disciple to fill it further.
He obliged, 
he offered the tea to the master. 
Once the cup was empty, 
he filled it further. 
The silence still persisted
despite the burp sound from the master. 
The class was over.
It was their fourth class.
The master filled the tea cup
asked the disciple to fill it further.
He obliged, 
he drank the tea
and then filled the cup. 
No need to say that
the silence still persisted. 
The class was over.

It was their fifth class.
The master filled the tea cup
asked the disciple to fill it further. 
He obliged,
he offered the tea to the master. 
While the master was drinking, 
he snatched it away,
poured a bit back into the kettle, 
drank the remaining tea, 
threw the cup hard onto the floor
to break the cup and 
the silence that persisted.
Sitting in between 
the master and the disciple
the kettle told unto 
the broken tea cup
'Fucking intellectuals!
No more class'


Story of the mirror

Once upon a time
(what else)
there was a mirror
perfectly reflecting everything
yet none really bothered to see it,
as they all admired themselves
when looking at it.

Then the mirror had a crack. 
Few got distracted and 
started seeing the mirror, 
besides admiring themselves.

Then there were many cracks. 
Many got distracted and 
started seeing the mirror, 
besides admiring portions of themselves.

Then the mirror was removed from
where it was
and suddenly everyone 
started seeing the mirror.

This time
the mirror had a smile
of its own.


Story of the ants

Once upon a time
there were ants
lots of them
working all the day
carrying food
from where ever it is available.

Praised to be hard workers
they collected and collected
more and more food than
they can ever eat.

None knew about that
as they never got anything to eat. 
They fed themselves 
with whatever little they found
otherwise on their paths.

All the food they carried
ended up in their ever expanding storage
under the control of 
the much revered queen.

She also did not eat the food. 
She needed only a tiny portion of it. 
She however produced more and more ants
to collect more and more food.

She unknowingly awaited
the larger ants
who always attacked her storage
just before the monsoon, 
shifted all the food
to their ever expanding storage
under the control of
their much revered queen
who also did not eat the food
as she also needed only a tiny portion of it.

She also produced more and more ants. 
And the story goes on...
Wasn't there any reward 
for the hard working ants?

Of course there was...

Upon the very first showers
most of them got beautiful wings
flew towards the brightest future, 
flew and flew
till all of them lost their
beautiful but not-so-strong wings.

The only option then left
was to crawl to death
or to get eaten by
the scorpions that reveal themselves
from the neighbouring lands. 

Did anyone there
asked about the food the ants collected?
Come on! 
You must be joking...
Aren't you?


Story of the river

Once upon a time
there was river
we were the river
we were with the river
we felt that there was river
we then found the river
playing on the banks of the river

we reached the banks of civilisation
as the civilisation spread

beyond its possible limits 
we killed the river
and ended our story.

Anyone knows how to restart?