The beast...

It's with the knack of

an elegant tigress

that your eyes approach me.

With this burning desire

to be a beast again,

I every time

jump off my safety,

just to fall prey to

the unconquerable battle

thereof.

,..

seasons...

Showing the withered flower that day,

she told me

'You should write a poem about it'.

I just nodded.

There were then more springs

and many more autumns

that passed in this meanwhile.

Suddenly by remembering her suggestion,

she queried

'I asked you to write a poem

on that withered flower?'.

I just smiled

'Where is the poem?',

she was serious.

I looked out through the monsoon window.

There were more flowers and many more poems.

'Oh my dear!

They both,

the flower and the poem

are quite drenched at this point.

Shall we get a bigger umbrella

and start picking one by one?'.

She looked at me

with her piercing eyes

as her eyelids resembled

an even bigger umbrella.

It still rains...

,..

the first song . . .

i thus wrote the first song for you
filling it with
the burdened silence
of unuttered words
and their endless meanings.
and when you open your sky
to listen to its longing,
the song will discover its tune
and the endless music it possesses.

,..

moon-tree series

The moon is burning
as a lone tree
and the stars are disappearing
as withering leaves.
I am not complaining
that the night
without you
is so long.

,..

seas, shores and boats

At first there was
only one sea.
Then there happened
a pair of seas,
one for you
and one for me.
And then
there were many seas
coming up
on the basis of
everybody's need
just to be followed by
the aimless boats
wandering everywhere
without knowing
whose who
is on which shore?

,..

naturally . . .

I keep a pile of words

on your sleeping eyes,

which then start playing

with your rhythmic breathe.

When you wake up,

trap them with your smile

and put them on your

yet-to-finish breakfast table.

Let the morning sun

savour some meanings.

,..

-------------------------------------------------------

Once, by listening to the wind,

you said that I'm also with it.

And when asked

how did you know about it,

you just started telling about

your journeys on the wind in return.

Not sure if the wind did smile at that.

,..

Feathering Away . . .

A forest to get lost

A sky to wander around

A river to get drenched and revive.

The feathers

that are spread in between

your smile and your silence

are innumerable.

And by gathering them,

I now try to make

a pair of wings

a boat

and a compass.

,..

moon-tree . . .

clear sky of
the rain-stopped-night.
the tree in front
hides the moon
that has just come out
of the clouds.

looking at the moon
through the leaves
you are asking,
'is the moon grown
in the tree?'.

as i smile at you in silence
you take my hand in yours
to say
'no, the tree has grown in the moon'.

you too start smiling
with that revelation
as my space gets
filled with
the moon-tree.

,..

the zhun song...

You are a beautiful song
that lies within.
And I am
the journey of music
that tries
to bring you out.

,..

moontoxicating . . .

We both were counting the stars
of the moonless sky.
When the moon appeared,
we plucked all
the counted stars
and then planted them
in our garden,
just to intoxicate
the moon
with the fragrance
of blooming stars.

,..

ichhe daana . . .

The wings of wishes
that flew from your
night's sky,
reached the branch
of my early morning
to tell the stories
of wishes
that are fulfilled
yet not.

,..

'sea'ing...

And when we finally met
at the sea
there were those
endless waves
and 
a deep calmness too...

,..

foresting...

a forest that waits
a path that flows inside it
a journey that becomes omnipresent
here i am
there you are
and in between us,
the language...

,..

secreting...

The secrets
that you deciphered,
listening to my heartbeats
are your secrets too...

,..

c o l o u r s . . .

'We are supposed to
create our own stories.
Look what are we doing,
we are letting others to
create stories
with us being part of them',
I wanted to establish
the philosophical context
of our time-space.

She was but looking at
the west
as the sun started to set.

Intrigued by her calmness,
I too set my vision
on the western sky
and drowned into those
endless shades. 

Restoring myself in a while,
I started collecting
some of the colours in my eyes.

She looked at me with a question.
'Collecting some for you',
I responded.

'Spread them on me',
she said.

And I did exactly what she said,
just to see the colours becoming
more colourful.

As the sky became darker,
all the bright and not-so-bright stars
started staring at us
and kept on wondering about
those two missing stars
from among them.

,..

what now ...

We held our hands
in an unknown moment
and decided to be a pair
of all weathers.

That day we were walking around
the mountain
which everyone ignored
as unscalable. 
But, soon
we found ourself
on the peak of the same.

Looking down from there,
I asked her,
'Are we going to jump?'.

Holding my hands with warmth
and looking at the sky,
she said,
'No, we are going to fly...'

,..

let it drizzle

the drizzling
is earnestly trying
to erase the darkness
off this wordful night.

now you please
let the drizzling believe that
it's not only the sun
that can do so.

,..

Word of rain . . .

The chattering wind was still around then.

It carried no song of love,
but our discourse was full of
lovable words.

We talked about
all beautiful things
in our sphere.

About the sun that hides behind any white cloud,
about the bullock cart
that starts in the morning
to drag time to reach till the night,
about the boy who drew the vast sea
and a small boat that carried us to
the other shore,
and so on.

When we started drinking
silence from our tea-cups,
the sky turned dark with
burdened clouds. 

I tried to disown any sense of belonging,
and was just staring at you
as a child sitting amused
on mother's lap.

It was then you said
'Let it rain' . . .
and it rained.

,..

Let it be . . .

Let those stray birds flock again in your branches

Let the wind flow through their feathers

Let the heap of withered leaves under your autumn branches

be another mountain for the moon to raise from behind

Let the song of rain sung for the first time

When the night falls down,

let the song carry the darkness and keep your branches

brighter than ever before

Let the world stay calm that it

will listen to your growing desires and thus

unexpect your fruits

Let the greatest soul give the river

another chance to flow by your side

Let children throw your seeds into the river

that reaches places

Let no bridges built across our river

as we ensure its flow

by being on its two different banks

Let you raise again and again in love and

Let you grow again and again till the time ceases

Let faces fade in and fade out

and the memories too

Let you be everywhere

and thus be nowhere in this conscious game

,..

where am I now . . ?

My friend the other day
was telling about the rain
playing hide and seek.

I then deviated and started
a new topic . . .
"I feel like moving ahead from
the world of words?",
I said.

"Do you imagine where would that be?",
was her surprise query.

"I don't know . . .
may be to the valley of silence
or to the top of a volcano",
I responded.

"That's such a contrasting image",
she said.

"But, both seems to be equal possibilities to me,
that too at the same distance
and I am exactly in the middle,
floating..."

"Wow!" was her response.

"A strong wind can take me to the top
or a strong flow can take me to the valley.
So, staying afloat can either be a boon or a bane",
I finished my sermon.

She then started laughing
to be followed only by
a strong wind and an incessant rain.

,..