Are you there?

In the quiet of December
In the midst of recurring thoughts-
       unkempt and uncouth.
Once raging, but now a doused hearth,
Remains nothing but debris of all things broken.

Are you there?

Did not flinch
It was a past, unsuccessful.
Bound by a fictitious oath,
Taken captive of a realm so surreal.
Weakened by the blows of fear,
Disgusted by failure,
Strength fell short.

Are you there?

Sheltered by bogus reasons,
Conned by achievements of yesteryear,
Disparaging everything,
Comfortably walked down the aisle
Flanked by lies.

Are you there?

The voice now fainting,
Dreams distanced themselves-
The vices inched closer
The self, surrendered.

Are you there?

Killing Siddharta

There was once a renowned prince,
Who was so moved by the four sights
He renounced all material desires
In search of truth.

I too had a Princely heart like him,
In anguish I would move to tears.
There were sleepless nights
And a burning desire
To find the truth -
But I killed Siddharta.

He wished to lend a hand,
To the needy.
But I chopped off the will.
He spoke of the soul,
I introduced him color.
There were deceased pleading for a shoulder,
I resisted to get out of the blanket.
There was food enough to share
I opted to hoard.
He opened the windows,
I looked into the mirror.
There were virtues which he gathered
I kept my vices close.
And there were prayers which kept him calm,
I was least bothered.
He offered slippers,
I threw the empty bottles.
He chose to be close,
I stayed distant.

There was a constant conflict
And both of us were tired.
Even a morsel was enough for him,
I longed for riches,
Wished for more power.
There was still time I said
And put him to sleep.
In the dungeons of a cold heart
His screams to be unheard,
He was blindfolded,
And deprived of feelings -
He uttered ‘I can’t breathe’
But now it was too late.

Lockdown

Seldom there were footsteps,
Only gurgling gutters.
It was a long day
Pathways deserted,
The sparrows were no longer intimidated,
No hands to swat the bees,
Stones no longer hurled at the stray,
It was a spring like never before.

There was a fear,
Smiles were forced.
Inbox flooded with messages,
It seemed everything was falling apart-
It was a panic.

A generation was still alive,
That stood the test of times.
Now endangered by a new virus -
They had faced the wars,
Were witness to the worst catastrophe,
And yet another confrontation.

Humanity could never dodge the death,
But there was a hope,
That this too shall pass.
A story to recite,
History just for the records and
A new beginning was
Waiting somewhere around the corner.

Unwritten Saga

There has never been a more romantic protagonist than ‘death’, waiting for a lifetime. You never know if he met ‘life’ and if they lived happily ever after. An embrace that withstood the test of times. A lullaby yet to be sung, an unfinished epilogue and an obituary to be inked. It is like a wave hitting a shore – never able to get hold of each other. The knots distances them and aggravates the desire. But when the stars align and the clock ticks in a perfect symmetry, the spirit is free. It is overwhelming, it is joyous, there are tears and there is yet another heart waiting to be slipped away from this euphoria.

In the silence of December,
Every year, I hear him tiptoeing.
He stands quietly,
Waiting for the last breath.

September

A crescent all sparkling, Glided gracefully into the solemn sky. It was a slow breeze, Unfolding the dawn of Autumn. Evenings brought a nostalgia, A past for which the heart would race. September lets you ponder, To travel back and retrospect. No matter what fruit it bears, Trees part with the leaves - Longevity reappraised. A prick, That awakens the soul. Nights are longer, Yet sleeplessness lingers. September is a mirror - Reminiscences flash through the mind. It is a flint, Ignites a doused desire.

Presenting the Moon

Waiting on the East wing,
She peaked onto the stage.

The other end
Pink skies,
Drew the curtain.
The sun steadily sunk.

Birds fluttered to their nests,
Men dusted and gathered together.
Smoke rose from chimneys.

Flanked by stars,
She slowly inched

All yellow and nervous.
A gentle breeze swept the clouds.
As if the passing souls
Wished her luck,
Her smile brightened
Moment after another.
A glimpse of such a beauty
Made the waters overjoyed.
A fortnight later
They would swell in grief.

Her radiance was not own,
But of a might master.
Some sparkles sprinkled here and there,
She could not touch them,
Reduced to memories-
Now light years away and gone.
In the eccentricities of vast expanse,
She submerged little by little.

In center she stood vibrantly
There were none to applause,
No eyes to grace.
The night solaced her,
No rush, no hecklers -
She meant to be herself.

December

The skies were no more vibrant,
Possessed by melancholy
The days were sluggish.

The thick frost on windows
Made the outside world more obscure.
Each second as the clock ticked
There was something that slipped past,
Nostalgia struck with each hour.

Every figment disappeared in fog,
The departing footsteps were dominant.
Burning woods flickered
To the ruthless winds.
Each gust pierced through
The murky perceptions.

Draped in all white like a bride,
The moon hung there in solitary.
Drowned in mist,
Words became insipid.

Like tears rolling down,
The dew from drenched leaves

Trickled deep into the soil.

Silence was ambiguous,
December drew a faint line
Between life and lifelessness.

Leaves of the Fall

Disowned from my roots

Frail and feeble,

I trembled in the cold winds.

From the murky drains,

To the river -

Drowning deep.

Gushed out by the torment currents,

Hit now and then by rocks -

Pierced by the malevolent shower,

I reached the calm sea.

Wounded by the brackish waters,

I fought each wave,

Climbed onto the other

Gasping for breath -

I made it to the shore.

There were clouds hanging low,

And in the warmth of the sand,

I basked in the afternoon sun.

A gentle hand,

Carefully lifted me.

Dusted and washed,

She slipped me in a diary.

It smelt tangerine.

There were fairies and stories,

Kisses and tears,

I could hear laughter.

Some desires settled in footnotes

Dreams all over -

Some in bold, some scribbled.

Beautiful signatures and traces of solitary.

Each day she flipped through pages

Inked some stories.

A withered leaf,

Bookmarked each day of life.

Selflessness

Not a day one beholds,
Havoc throughout-
Remorse written all over,
Grief all bundled up.

Washed away by the dejected winds,
Clouds stationed lifelessly.
A piece here and there,
None bothered to wave at a kin.

Not a bird fluttered,
Neither a leaf twitched.

Like a child,
With an incessant sob -
Drifting away from love,
It stood there aimless.

Ash strewn all over the sky,
Neither a smile or a frown.
Aghast by its aggression,
And the growing beastly muscles -
Filthy curses,
It endured.

In a moonless night -
All the pride tonsured.
Selflessness, not a virtue to race -
But to nurture.

Rain

Sorrow painted all over-
Burdened with the load,
It crackled in pain.

Pampered by the skies,
They had no choice-
Journey destined by the blowing winds
In the vast expanse
It sailed lifeless.

Neither the breeze knew when to disembark,
Invisible reins guided them.
A chariot rattled around universe,
It showered fire.

Filthy mouths united in prayers,
Treacherous souls shivered with fear.
Tears squeezed through sore eyes-
None so brave to combat karma.

Numb with fear,
Blinded by the torrential downpour.
A leap of faith,
Rose above all beliefs.

Every drop is destined to a gut,
Cannot be barred on grounds of color.

Yet so kind the Supreme is,
He heard not of the few peasants,
But prayers that wished a prolong summer.

Mortal is a being,
Immortal his desires -
Wrapped in another body,
Satiate his cravings.

They wish to conquer
With concrete muscles,
Denying a drop to seep.

Metal and plastic will sustain long
And terror much longer,
But every drop is destined to a gut,
If treasured other wars can be won.

Untitled

Hit by the words,

That glitter-
All the glory,
Lost its charm.

The heights never matched.

Sacrifice went vain,
Bitten by mockery -
Beaten by vengeance,
All pride bottled up,
Wrapped with nothingness -
Sunk into deep silence.

Eroded by soothing waters,
Frail and fragile,
Blinded by the brightness
Crawling slowly-
Set its foot onto the edge
Unaware of the evil appetite,
Again consumed by covetous dreams.

Billion endeavours -
Yet not an eye blink.
Wreathe and wax,
Showered over the parched body.
History witnessed-
Stars, named after much deliberation,
But untitled remained the labour.

Anonymity

Numb and lifeless
All vigor taken hostage,
By the fears.
Troubled by the demons-
In anonymity it fought,
A war that raged much uncertainties.

Remembrances were obscure-
Responses quavered.
Things occurred
Unexplainable, actions not justified.
Lost in angst -
Terrified by the voices.

Every face that passes by-
Inspires to wrought the character.
In this very exercise to better oneself,
With time, reflections in the mirror have failed
To identify the self.

How can the bloodshed be justified -
Handful of ash washed away by the waters,
Reminds nothing is eternal.

If existed a hand,
I crave for one
To pull out of the nothingness.

Night

Underneath the abundance of stars,
An aroma that the winter carried -
Stronger than any other season
Lingered enough to be sensed.

Startled by the stark beauty,
Every breath savoured the night-
Elegantly dressed,
Stars sprinkled all over
A smile befitting took the centre stage -
Perhaps the passing cloud
Could have more than a glimpse.

Night is a disguise,
To be ahead of times.
Flesh shimmers only in broad day light,
Enlightened souls seek the darkness.

Thousand words can never string together,
To define calmness-
One who is soaked into the silence of the night
Befriends all fears.

Footsteps of night,
Never to be heard.
Colour of the sky is never seen.

Silhouettes far away slowly loosened the ends,
Balancing the act the humble night tiptoed-
And from the other wing rose the mighty Sun.

Awakened by the diffused rays
Mist drizzled to the ground-
Seeping through and through,
Till the wisdom nourished the roots.

Indolent Winters

Drenched by mist -
Tender and fragile leaves fall to the earth.
There was no chirping,
No fluttering of the wings.
Unlike other days,
Slowly from behind the clouds
Rose the sun all in pink.

Light diffused through the fog,
To the warmth flowers turned their sides.
Stretched and steady
Sparrows chirped in joy.
Slid from the grass
Shiny dew burst into the soil.

Lost in slumber,
Under the deep blankets -
Untroubled and untouched
By worries and mayhem of life,
Dreams and infancy sprawled unrepressed.

Bubbling tea in every cup
A sigh of relief
In every sip.
Engulfed in flames,
The woods never uttered a wail
All the warmth stolen away
From the hearth
Hands besiege all day along.

Piercing winds blemish the build -
Noon serves the skin so perfect.
But true souls absorb in pleasantries
Gatherings in the porch become so often.
Spring brings in the color and valor
but winters in disguise nurture that hope.

WANDERER’S DIARY

Trust the winds,
Unprejudiced - carry all our feelings.
It is the heart that confers
To be loved or not.

Irrational is the waters,
It can never be relied upon.
Every drop there is a colour,
Purity changes in every ounce.

Fires burn the impure within,
Untainted are the remnants.
Crushed and crippled yet so strong,
Peace is all the earth wants.

There is in me a part of the universe,
Irrational it behaves and makes me anxious.
Tears pacify the undesirable -
And an ardour within tickles my lust.

The strength in me dies,
For every leap my friend takes.
And for every breathe,
I crave to make it count.

Above all is a vast expanse,
Unmoved by the hues.
For every eye holds a dream,
That is where the horizon meets.

Mortal are the beings here
Immortal their deeds.
Passing on to the generations -
Cleverly we have ridiculed the creation.

Solitude

Frivolous clouds drifted away
Each with a silver lining,
Some so transparent -
Uncovering the moon behind,
Mighty dark ones
Battling to shine –
Awakened by the night sky.

Not a star there lay alone,
Skies guided by the light.
On a voyage disappeared few,
Into the solitude,
Away from the cluster -
Steered by the grit
In search of truth.

Into the darkness
Marred by desires,
Pushed by the winds
Sailed a star into loneliness.
Echoes not to be heard
Visible were no light -
It pondered,
Disguised in black, is this the truth?

None to recall,
No stone to pray
Hit by a zillion thoughts
Lost into void space.
Gripped by the obscurity
With silence strengthening -
Let loose all the very bonds.

Escaped a tear
Rolling into the deep sky,
Horizons brightened

A twinkle appeared in moonlit sky.

Incomplete Act

...eyes trailing every step it took,
Entangled in the hands
Tears were the only way,
Liberty deep down
Had a monstrous laugh.

Vigour bestowed upon
Armoured by love,
Blindfolded to the dubious compassion -
In the surreal world
Tempered to conquer
Tiny roars echoed at the distance.

Principles bounded the little one
Now bided by the wisdom,
A hand slipped away.
Forlorn figures all in veil -
Clouds cast a shadow over
Unravelling the truth.

Every person with a perception
Questions ridiculed,
Answers mystified.
Perplexed beings muddled up
Cursing the very existence.

Aghast at the battlefield -
Amidst the clamour
Head buried deep within the knees,
Conflict between the intellect and soul.

 

To retreat - the rationale foretells,
Triumph the heart foresees’,
Eerie silence lingered
The soul departed.
Eyes not worthy to look up,
Life never justified.

Stage all set for another act,
Blood and water riveted
From the hearth rose fire
Brightened the dull desires...

Footprints - the tiny steps

...the steps are tiny, 

Day so gloomy

Fear over-shadowed the path ahead.

A branch so low with fruits laden,

Mirage pleases' the eye not the soul.

Landscapes drift 

But I stood still,

The tiny steps moved ahead.

Gruesome winds blew,

Filled the airs with dismay.

Soothsayer words I remember

Believe not whatever they say.

In the twilight

I walked miles,

The steps so tiny yet so mighty - 

Refrained from the dangers ahead.

All eyes on the tiny steps 

Full of scorn and contempt, 

With head bowed low

The tiny ones marched ahead. 

Eluding the shyness,

Suppressing a tear

A heart throbbing prominent,

Trailing the tiny steps.

Time subdued the valor

Pride vanquished against age,

History remembered nothing

But the tiny footprints that made their way...

The Evening

...amidst the happy chirping,
A cry suppressed within.
Bewildered and lost
Huddled making its way
To the clouds drifting away.

Sun plunged happily,
Behind the mountain.
Infants in unison
Cried to reach their mothers.

The dust settled down,
Smoke rose from the chimneys.
Boys on the street,
Girls safe with their fathers
Singing and playing.

Silhouettes’ fading,
The mind pondered.
Emptiness carved the emotions,
Still on the bed I lay
And the heart wandered.

Footprints coming and going,
Noise lingered through the air.
Acquaintances disappeared,
In the dark night
Dreams all aloof
Desolate soul gasped for breath.

Breeze uncovered the moon,
Twinkles brightened.
The eye felt moist again,
I woke up -
The evening still lingered...

Roaring Silence

Imagine ‘silence’ being listed in the stock markets. The shareholders will never be disappointed and the dividends would just lure more customers. But in reality it is hard to find such a place, (place is a very broad term), it is even hard to find a moment of silence in our lives. Even if the environment is quiet enough, the restless thoughts keep the convolutions in the brain going. There is no place under the sun where you can treasure some moments of peace in life.

It was a long journey throughout the day. I was desperately looking for some place where I could find some peace at least till I reached home. I boarded a bus, took a ticket and sank in my seat. Nathaniel Baldwin is a person whose contribution can never be ignored and one can never be thankful enough for his invention. He is the only person whose invention makes some sense in this clamorous world- the headphones. I quickly stuffed a pair of earphones and was lost sketching my virtual world. In the streets of Vizag (Visakhapatnam) you can rarely find a bus that is not overcrowded. The howling students released from their tuitions make the journey even more miserable. It was a scorching Saturday afternoon and the bus carried very few passengers- what a relief. I was enjoying the ride until I saw a bunch of faces in the very next stop.

There were about 20 faces in all. Most of them were students all dressed neatly in the uniforms and yes shiny black shoes. The girls had white ribbons hanging from their pretty long plaited hair. The shades of their uniform were rarely matching. The boys wore blue trousers and white shirts, and the girls had the same combination in skirt and blouse. Each boy had a tidy partitioned hair. This was a rare sight. All of them had an emblem etched onto their pockets which resembled a dove sitting on a branch. The front seats were occupied by two ladies who must have been their teacher. There was this lady all clad in a sari and had a charming smile. She took few toffees out from her hand bag and gave it to some of them. Then a flood of handshakes made it clear it was her birthday. All the hands waving in the air clumsily and their lips moving fast. I dare remove my earphones. The teacher finally stood and all the hands started clapping. With shining teeth all of them started chattering. Their hand were moving very fast and their fingers as if chanting something. Their eyes wide open and filled with expressions. Another troupe of classical dancers I said to myself. The road had a few bumps and a little girl stumbled and fell on the floor. I grabbed the phones out of my ears and helped the little one. All eyes on me at once. That was not the point, I was terrified. There was complete silence. For a moment I thought I screwed my eardrums. But I could hear the engine growling and few whispers here and there. In no time there were smiles all over the place. I felt a sudden upsurge of warmth and happiness. The teacher walked up to me and handed me a few confectionaries, I understood she conveyed her thanks. The children all clapped their hands, I felt a lump down my throat. The bus again squealed and finally came to a stop. There was no confusion - no pushing and pulling, all of them formed a queue and walked down the aisle and climbed down the steps. One of them gently bowed the head in respect to the driver and finally when all of them descended, a hand tapped the bus door signaling to leave. I looked behind, all of them were waving their hands. These students from a nearby school were deaf and dumb. I sat in my place and smiled to myself. A feeling as if I have discovered the true meaning of silence dawned upon me. My heart was filled with content.

I learnt a simple lesson. We grumble day and night, working on the imperfect ‘myself’. Maybe time has come to live a happy life respecting the imperfections and to discover joys beyond the materialistic world.