If I knew how to let silence speak,
I would’ve gathered the leaves
Of a fallen autumn
And let the winter Sun
spread its warmth.
I would’ve built a heap
of the running brooks
like sand dunes in the Sahara.
Formed a canopy of green
under a firmament so blue
and let swallows chitter
in distant heavens.
I would’ve let my feet
vanish on deserted roads,
and raindrops ring some
far-off wedding bells.
I would’ve told you how
the blowing winds
just whistled in my ears.
Maybe that would’ve been
The full circle
and not just an Arc.
But…
Only if I knew
how to let silence speak.
The shadow of Kalinga hangs on.
Crippled bodies
sublime in ancient battlefields.
Fiends and edentates
rule the World.
And souls wilfully escape into a world
without bondage.
Pain and hunger,
Sufferance,
The Earth in peril.
“Martyred? Aye! Nations immortal sons!”
With their mortal remains
long lost.
We weep silent tears
and count those lines of vanity
on the vain human visage.
Mutable, unaccountable-
Yet, basking in the glory of
victorious battles.
Wait awhile!
This shan’t stay.
When time shall cease to exist
Only I’ll stand strong.
I am Agony of War.
In the cavern of my heart
A yearning.
All glory lies faded
With suburban shades of grey.
A resignation
Of past scintilla.
And bubbling aspirations
buried and forgotten.
A beginning,
flashes of tomorrow.
Lucid,
Wanted,
Awaited.
A new world and brightness,
Let go yesterday.
Allow my days to grow,
Placid
Quiet
Unknown.
A dream, a reverie
A train of thoughts and fantasies
Harmony set to music
By the glitter of starry concordance;
And a World
Beyond Human Bondage.
Mornings full of visions,
And anticipation
Of another Sun.
A thousand rays
Drying up a dewy assemblance,
And a termination
Of another monotony.
Into a horizon of hopes,
Set to glory
By a dying day.
The setting Sun
Ready to light up another World;
And a walk once again,
Past illumined imaginations!
Raindrops,
Saplings,
Tears enclosed in sandal cases
Moments grown and lived,
Remembrances and reminiscences
Of yesteryears so dear!
The Golden Gate
Of a dilapidated castle,
Kings and Queens and crowns
A treasure Island
In Lilliput Days
Lost and never found!
Pink and purple
Laces and ribbons,
Marbles and laughter
Memories scattered ocean deep,
No pearls and no oysters.
Bring back a yesterday,
A splendour- ephemeral and mutable
And let this song end
On an unforgettable note;
Help me find my wings
For my infinite flight
Into childhood.
(An emotional letter penned by an aborted foetus to her unclaimed mother)
Dear Mummy,
The stars are out in the sky
And the moon has been singing the lullaby,
I’ve had a lovely meal tonight
And the day was also almost fine!
Yet, I miss your cradle- songs
And all your lovely ways;
I wish you had let me colour your quiet days.
When tomorrow comes
Don’t forget to tell him my story;
How I grew, how I loved you.
Tell Daddy to smile a hundred smiles,
Tell him, I miss him too!
But Mumma dear, you mustn’t cry,
For I know you loved me much.
Wrap my little life, a few weeks old
In bonds of eternal warmth.
And let my memory grow…
Years later, when I’m not even history anymore
Take me out on full moon nights;
I’ll still be there,
I’ll remain your child!
Bury me today.
Bury my thoughts
And cover them with misty joy.
Evade all dark clouds from over my tomb,
And carve happiness on my epitaph.
Give me wings of Icarus,
For the flight of a liberated spirit.
Tell my wings to fly me
Past unseen horizons.
And just when
My heart is brimming
With immortal joy,
I’ll rise once again.
Then dig open my grave,
For I’ll walk past familiar roads.
But bury me today
I want to live my happiness.
(Penned in the emotional hours of the Kargil War)
Make me valiant,
Let drops of blood from my veins
Fall on the ground below.
Canons and bullets,
Let them pierce through my flesh.
And my soul escape this worthless body.
Let my heart tell the profound story
Of this battlefield.
And my bashful hands help build a Nation strong.
Let my victory call for a banquet,
And wreaths and laurels thereafter.
Nation, let me be a soldier!
I wish to talk about the ‘celestial’…
A cherub,
A sunshine,
The eighth colour of the rainbow,
A smile,
A togetherness,
A bond,
A tomorrow,
A promise,
A tear,
A holding,
A forever,
A ‘let go’;
I wish to talk about the ‘celestial’…
Of silent voices,
Of listening,
Of two pair of feet,
Of evening shadows that merge,
Of familiar shores,
Of hearts that echo,
Of anchors that are
Of anchors that be,
Of ‘chiquititas’ and their souls,
Of big hands and small,
Of a loving and a loved.
Need I say more?
I wish to talk about the ‘celestial’,
About a friend…
My friend!!!
It is not easy
to let the World know,
How much ‘the caring’ can add to life…
How well ‘a rainbow’ makes a promise…
How much ‘the silence’ can be ‘the turbulence’…
It is not easy to let the World know,
How much ‘My Mom’ loves me!
Sad days…
When I seem to lose myself in the crowd,
She picks me up, each time I fall.
She promises me a clear sky, Oh! So blue!
And to stick by me, all my life through.
She nurtures in me dreams of ‘tomorrows’,
Her gentle touch drives away all my ‘sorrows’.
I am not the best child…
I fight and scream at her.
She loves me still,
Just as much,
As she did ever.
Gives her days and nights
…and…
Her benevolence quietly touches me,
She says she wants nothing!
My ‘caring’, my ‘rainbow’,
My ‘silence’ and my ‘turbulence’,
Mumma you’re my World.
I love you, Oh! So much.
You are ‘the constant in my life…
All that I am and ever hope to be,
It is because of thee…
You mother,
I call ye ‘Sacrifice’.
Recent Comments