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...'