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?!”

“Yeah,
isn't that we normally do,
think?”

“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”

“mm..”

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

“The Satan?”

“No, the serpent”

“mm..”

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

“Ah! Atypical”

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

“mm..”

“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”

“Interesting...”

“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”

“Oh!
I indeed jumped over the fence and
on my landing I felt this great urge
to shout...
'YES YOU CAN'
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”

“mm..”

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

“Really?”

“Yeah...
I asked him to say it aloud”

“Did he?”

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

,..

Postscript:

“So the story ends here?”

“Yes”

“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...”

Dancecoded...

The message of dance
reached me encoded 
in a rhetorical happenstance.
As I get into its rhythm
to decode the tune,
all the words in the message
start dancing.

,..

a holy dialogue

She again said it's god who is controlling everything.

I smiled.

She then asked me,
what image comes to my mind 
when she says god.

I said no image.

'No image?',
she was puzzled.

I said there is no god for me.

'How do you think everything came about?',
asked she.

I said chemical reactions.

She said its 'Him' who did it.

I asked 'how do you know its him and not her?'

She said the holy book says so.

I asked who wrote the holy book?

She said all learned men.

I said ok.
We then talked about ice cream,
butter-scotch and chocolate flavours...

,..

Endarkenment...

I recently
jumped out of my way
to be back
on the known path.
Not that
known paths are
safe and comfortable,
they are at times
unavoidable.
Even the rare companions
of the unknown way
share their fears
of being lonely and
not seeing an end.

The other day
I met this friend of mine,
who has never missed her way
though she meets us
here are there
in our known paths.

'So, how does it feel
to be back on the
known path
from your way?',
she asked
with a smile
beyond meanings.

'It feels a kind of
loss of ground'

'Does that mean
you are flying?'

'No, floating'

'Floating and thus
moving with the flow?'

'Not exactly.
This floating is
something like
wandering with the wind'

'Being weightless'

'No, burdensome'

'Why so?'

'Because,
with every strong wind
one is thrown
from one extreme
to the other
and always falls
on the face'

She then took me
for a short walk
under the
moonless sky of
countless stars.
The sky
with its vastness
closes many ways
and opens the right door
when one needs it
the most.

Observing my wonder,
she added,
'This is called
endarkenment.
One, at times,
needs to withdraw
from the light
to be able to see things
that are around.
The enlightening moon
is blinding
and forces you
not to see the stars'

That restored my smile
as I said,
'Ah! That's so profound
my dear'

She could trace
in my eyes
my explorations
in the unknown way
and the huge disconnect
with this known path.

'When released
from its cage,
an animal
has two options,
either to go back to the forest
or to get tamed.
You,
for all so called reasons,
have chosen
what is good for others'

I could just look at her
with a strange calmness.

She wanted to leave
as if she has felt
a huge urge to
move beyond.
'This time
I will tell you something
that is not profound
but simple',
she already had a parting smile.

'When one forces oneself
to be away
from one's own way,
one does not just
forget the way
but also forgets
where one has
come from'

So confused
with its simplicity,
I asked my
last stupid question.
'But my friend,
what about the goal?'

Filling me
with her warmth,
she asked back,
'Isn't way the goal,
my dear?'

,..

ah! :-)

'Is life all about memories?',
I casually asked her this morning.

'No, it is all about
remembering to forget',
she said.

And I am not sure
why did she have that
absorbing smile...

,..

re-acting...

once on the stage

whatever one does

becomes a part

of acting . . .

,..

a conversation on the last boat . . .

'What if one misses

the last boat?',

asked my friend.

'You will be sent

another one',

I replied

while waiting

for my fifth-last-boat.

,..

some more...

The evening
gets into a trance
with the beauty of
wandering white clouds.
And without looking at
the nest of colours
that the sun makes
in the disappearing sky,
the moon-flower blossoms
as bright white light...

,..

An unwritten story
is wandering
amidst the
written stories...

,..

A word's journey
starts in its meaning
and ends
with its interpretation...

,..

at present . . .

You go and live
the hell or heaven of your life.
Let me be here
hanging from the ceiling
without knowing
whether dead or alive.

,..

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.

,..

a word and another . . .

a word
that just woke up
from a greater dream
tries to wake up
another word
that is sleeping

,..

Do you know why?

'There is no communication
among inequals',
philosophised my friend
the other day.

'But why should there be communication
among equals?',
asked the boy
sitting next to us.

,..

Possessed . . .

'I have started morning walks',
the poet was telling his friend
last evening.

'You must be writing more poems these days'
responded the friend.

'I don't write poems'

'Yeah I know . . . you must be capturing
the happening poem'

'I don't capture either,
actually, it's the poem that captures me'

'Oh! so you want to say that
poems are capturing you more frequently
these days!'

'No. I select different paths on different days
to avoid being captured by the poems'

'That's interesting.
How's it possible?'

'It's not that difficult,
poems do have seasons.
During the pre-monsoon,
poems come to you
on the wings of
white little butterflies.
One needs to select
the desert path then'

'mm...'

'During the monsoon
in the neighbouring land,
poems come to you
on the mischievous wind.
It tries to enter you
disguised as dusty sand.
One should then walk along the river 
as its flow
will silence the chattering wind'

'mm...'

'During the spring,
poems get into the fragrance
of wild flowers.
It's then better to walk
on the sides of broad highways,
where the air is filled with
the smoke of modernity'

'mm...'

'During the winter,
it waits right next to your doorstep
as an early morning thief.
One should stay inside the house
covering oneself fully with a blanket
and pretending to sleep.
Never come out till the day is warm'

'mm...'

'When it rains
the valley gets filled with poems
and it's wise then to climb the hill'

'mm...
that's why I saw you
climbing the hill the other day'

'Yes'

'But you still posted a poem
that day'

'True!
I climbed upto the hilltop
and was coming back.
After a little while
I just glanced over the valley
out of sheer curiosity.
It is then that poem recognised me,
flew across to the hilltop
only to jump on me from there'

':-)'

,..

I exist . . .

I remember
the first bird of the morning
to go out of that banyan tree
unfolded its wings
when I stepped into
the tree's shadeless base.

I remember
the first rain of the monsoon
poured down heavily
when I threw that
mango seed in my backyard.

I remember
the first crane of the season
to land on that paddy field,
arrived with its flock
when I crossed the canal
supplying water to the field.

I remember
the first star to appear
in that evening,
brightened up
when I looked above.

I wonder
if I could just remember
the first fish
to come out of its egg
in that endless sea . . .
also what did I do then?

,..

 

a small question . . .

'Why do you think
all these dialogues and discussions
among the leaders
are always a failure?',
asked a small girl this morning.

'No', I said.

'Because there is no one to follow'

,..

mirroring . . .

'How is the other aspect of life, 
marriage?', 
asked my bachelor friend the other day. 

'That is a roller coaster ride', 
I said. 

'So where are you at this point of time, 
crest or trough?' 

'On a high note...' 
I smiled and added, 
'That may turn opposite at any point and 
that is what the challenging part of it' 

'OK, but ...... 
can't there be a smooth ride?' 

'No, there can't be' 

'Why so?' 

'Because, it is something that travels on two parallel tracks, 
which look alike but are not the same' 

'I couldn't get that', 
he became restless. 

'I mean that the life after marriage 
depends upon two persons who may look alike 
but are not the same. 
So differences are common...' 

'I really do not know how to understand your condition. 
Do you want to say that there is 
no possibility of having sameness?' 

'Exactly, 
so the boat rocks' 

'So the generalisation which follows is that - 
Marriages can not make one happy, 
isn't it?' 

'No, marriages need not make one only happy, 
will be the generalisation' 

'Then what is the purpose of 
getting married?' 

'It is like looking at the mirror, 
what do you think the purpose is?' 

'That is what I am trying to find out?' 

'It is to look at yourself, 
admire the beauty and 
worry about the ugliness at times 
and also to realise that 
one is both beautiful and ugly' 

,..