Monday, April 10, 2017

Ball game..










You dropped such way that rushed in a meteor 

It went through layers of land and stone

Feathery that is about no hands, legs or torso 

Only a pair of aeonian eyes

Countless tresses came from where 



Millions of dazzling celestial bodies 

at the apex of a thin hair

An indomitable desire that stands directionless

Playing the game of one leg with million jumping legs

Cast away like a dry seed of cotton

It fell on mountain peak, in the ocean, in rich lands

in crowded roads- in the solitude of four walls...

I opened my eyes... 





Where was not I playing with me?

Monday, November 7, 2016

O moonlit night...




O distant moonlit night, like my unsung layers of heart!

tell me something about the melodies that I have adorned 
you with long ago.. 

I am forgetting them as you became more reclusive
Those honey soaked sufferings
like sharp sparkling piercing longing..
I want them back..

Give me some hint, some dust from your silvery flare
for I can find you anew within me
I wish to make you a queen once again
and offer you all the precious pearls of my ocean..

Can't see you lackluster, shabby
anymore!


Thursday, May 12, 2016

Giridhari




When I look at the emptiness of my sky,
you appear standing high with Gobardhan Giri
placed on your finger nail..
O Giridhari, beneath, I am there in a remote side
of your grand refuge.

Dense layers of cloud has intensified over 
the pupil of my eye..
Ears are inured to roars of the thunder..
So my legs are frail and trembling..
In between you and me is a thick ocean of love..

My throat is choked with emotions...  
How will I be able to cross and be near you,
to say you my gratitude at least once in this life
O Giridhari...!


Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Rice and Dalema



My mother used to rinse rice from granny's field, only once
She never peeled off the vegetables being plucked 
from our backyard to prepare rice and dalema for lunch
and rinsed them all and the pulses only once ...
She says it retains the nectar of nature safe in the food.

Our bodies and damp minds are all built up of rice and dalema
cooked by our mother.

Now I am a mother of a grown up child.
Now she learns that to prepare rice and dalema for lunch
her mother rinses rice and pulses several times,
peels of the vegetables and
rinses them all with hot water several times..
Those are bought from the market in the backyard.
She learns that her mother is assured for that day
that her effort has removed all the layers of poison
and that at least she is serving a safe food to her child
if not the nectar of nature...




To know about Dalema please follow the link..
Dalema






Monday, April 13, 2015

Far or Near




Possibly there is a mango grove nearby.
Cooing of a cuckoo is falling on
a deserted spring.

I am sorry that my voice is a wearing out earthen grinder
is losing effect with passing time.
O gentle witness, is anything there called far or near?

It's futile! your awaiting for a celebrating tune from me
cause I speak in gross silence to the listener of patience
at the mango grove.