Friday, 22 September 2017

travelling light


the windows
and the ventilations
they held dust from yesterdays

piles of papers
bills and receipts
sum of thoughts and expenses

dust and waste
idle stuffs
every corner vignettes of past

brush, wipe, sponge
that strange urge to bring grace
fragrance and  some sparkle

still something was missing
something was absent…

(that strange urge to coil and coil
to the point where it will explode
to ancient forests and streams)

on canvas and papers
i am making streams and leaves
will hang them soon to the clean walls



















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Thursday, 21 September 2017

ethereal dreams














– Mark Harless


i am mud
soak me in elixir
in heart’s elixir
ethereal dreams
they flower and spread fragrance
of ancient cosmic love






Wednesday, 20 September 2017

there is a cool wind and soft lullaby...


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yesterday morning the streets were busy; people going, coming;
behind the doors and windows, are they soothing bruises; bathing?

was it not storms, hunger, calamities, fear and doubts of existence
that named, implied, devised and marginalized hope with godliness?

yesterday noon’s rain stubbornly hanged to the atmosphere and
wasn’t it tranquillity that breezed through families staying inside?

 now at night even the rain got tired and ended with soft lullaby,
isn’t this lullaby, the embracing cool wind that sends warmth inside
that every single soul on earth dreaming, chasing, desiring?

if there is something more precious will you just poke me,
for I am going to sleep with rain’s lullaby, and teach me that secret?



After long hours of rain and wind, it is so cool, calm and soothing, so writing something in haste to go and sleep under a warm blanket; is it something so irresponsible?

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Friday, 15 September 2017

love is a collage of moments spent














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our window looks in, in the morning, when you are not here;
it missed our looking outside together, in the morning;
it slowly turns away, doves stir on the sunshade

mornings are a-not-so-strong tea without your pinch of crushed ginger;
I read  mails along with tea; they all lack a point of reason;
I return to chores in kitchen as tea turns out a pointless attempt of joy

 love is the hurry-burry of mornings when you collide with me,
when I am taking spices from the right-top shelf and you the cups for tea;
love is your lunch box that I pack in a hurry, now it stares at me in the morning

when you return, bring some fresh ginger from the locals selling it at stations;
home is an untouched canvas now, bring it and let us splash some ginger tea
in the morning hurry-burry, and let us mop it with impish smiles and giggles




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Monday, 11 September 2017

time lost, time found













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the yellow stone shined
among pebbles

somebody’s broken stud
lost forever

i have got a scrap box
almost full

i dream of making art
of lost things

gluing bits of time dropped
carelessly 





Thursday, 7 September 2017

Simply Magical!



























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9 in the morning my maid comes and smiles wide;
she talks about my neighbours and asks unexpectedly,
“Aren’t they all good, Didi?” I say, “Yes, definitely.”
She laughs, “You live in a good society, isn’t it sheer happiness?”
Morning time, nice talks and smiling face; yes, it is sheer happiness.
Then she uttered some wisdom, “Everything starts with us and ends with us.
If we are good everybody is good.”  I am astounded,
she has never gone to school, no books and no elite groups.
Who taught her wisdom? Isn’t life a bit magical, simply magical?




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Thursday, 31 August 2017

"what you are inside, so is it outside"


"let fragrance be felt than taught,
let love be felt than preached,
let respect be felt than demanded"
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“I am the best!”
“I am everything”---echoes around so much;
the air of the era or the error of parenting,
the seven-lettered ‘R E S P E C T’ has been crumpled,
crumpled to bits? self-ego reigns the world;
where can we start not to be mean,
not to be sadists with kids,
not to be those freaky intellectuals with elders,
not to be cruel to animals,
no to be mean with nature??

when i am on my legs, take me to the tiniest of being, and
to the awe of the cosmos, teach me to wonder at everything,
for there is something in me that ignites when i wonder;
tell me that i am mud, air, fire, water and ether
and will return to them in its entire sense
and so do every bit of life around me, because
it is i who dwell in everything
and it is everything else that dwells in me
and so it is an echo world, you say, you hear;
you see, you manifest; you think, you feel;
whatever are you, you get it back without a single excuse,
may it be smile, curse or love, you get what you nurture;
it is one and only one,
whatever you give, you are giving it to your own existence;
see the world with love and respect,
fill your sense with love and respect
for it is the same energy that flows around,
flows inward and flows outward.

“yes, i am the best,
and so is everybody around me,
everything around me.”

“yes, i am everything,
everything is me,
it is love and acceptance,
it is reverence for creation.”
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We are taught that pregnant women should not visit the temple after seven months. This is because the deity himself would have to stand up and greet you as you are carrying a little soul inside. An infant is greeted with respect by the almighty himself. The very underlying thought, the very first lesson is, “what a child receives, he or she delivers”---what you give, you get it back!



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Tuesday, 29 August 2017

....to know ocean depth.....

























My Bliss



there is no better way,
but this---
i learned to be a child
to know your needs, your agonies---
i learned life once more
from the beginning
to gain the wisdom of nature,
protecting saplings
from storms and wilderness;

egoless, subtle nurturing, absolute bliss!




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Friday, 18 August 2017

Dance and Flood love's Sonnet


















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Waltz across my heart, oh blue sky, gaily
Let me put steps, oh white dreams, unfettered
Let me dance and be the sky, untethered
For here on earth life is chained, horribly
So dance the candid smiles we get rarely
Get flooded with compassion, unbridled
Come and be me, know the ocean here, trapped
Our whales and eagles echo candidly
Here shameless greed reigns, let’s be shameless too
Smile wide at rude faces and be happy
Flood the wicked with compassion and do
Forgive sinners, not the sin, be happy
Be the blatant envoy of nature too
For she’s the paper for life’s poesy




Thursday, 10 August 2017

the need of a golden touch



























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her unfueled reminiscences, held,
pressed hard, cold, mountain-ed;
she boils somewhere inside

her consciousness running roots,
grows high, reaching skyward, reflects;
in green canopy, she breathes

under her shade we built traps,
under our concrete shades she boils
fueling her memories, melts dangerously,
running cracks all over the existence;
the art of Kintsugi calls,
bring in  lacquer and golden herbs,
soothe her wounds
she is the depth of ourselves… 




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