Tuesday, January 29, 2013



Is not something I seek,

Chase or hold

Or wish to acquire

Through brisk minutes of breathing

In induced labour

I have tried

and failed

to buy it

from a guru

and the promises of

nimble, able hands

or from the fiery contents

of a bottle

Nor is it something


Of a response

To a scathing remark

And then

 having shown them

how extraordinary

my perceived achievements

pretend to make me


I could know

how to wear it

Through regressive insights



However that may

Take me through the storm

And to the eye?

I walk through it all.

It’s necessary.

As the delusion of calmness

Clouds my mind

And asks for more

While chasing after

restless squirrels

In a viscous park.

The balls of fur,
prying thoughts

Scramble up and down

The mulberry trees

Looking, seeking

With cautious eyes

Tasting, picking

And stashing away

The bitter with the sweet

To sort and consume later

When it’s dark and cold.

Would it come by

If I were to stop

And sit by the pond

On a bench

And watch them all

-Balls of fur

And furious movement?-

They would continue

In their effort

To chase, stash and save

And bear upon the onlooker

An imprint

Of  motion

In peripheral calmness

Perhaps I’m there

Perhaps not.

Can I define it

If I’m walking through it?

Can I find it

If I’m not seeking it?

Can I experience

Without knowing it?

Or is it possible

to touch it

Like the dew

On a morning blossom

Or the hue

Of a ripening cherry

On a tree before its autumn

And then let go

For the feeling to sail

In and out

With my breath

Over and over again

Through the cold and the dark

onto the sunny warmth of Spring?

I’m ponderous

And yet,

I do not wish to seek,

Chase or hold

Calmness or thought

I think I will,

For this moment,

 just let me be.

Monday, January 21, 2013


Wake me...

wake me when the Sun
in your eyes
goes down

Wake me
in the twilight
of your summer dreams
and chase
the crack of dawn
to a new newness

Bring me
to this world
with labouring hope
when the golden dust
of half-lived years
settles on your face

Push me
through the nettled web
of rose-lit night
and moon-struck day
it's not too late
to cultivate...

Hold me
at your finger tips
and let the furrows
in the golden dust
fill up with
your candescent smile
it's not too late...

I rest,
in you
the seed of life
of liquid threads that bind
your past
to my future

Ignite me
in your womb, and
let me
show you the way
and be

your glowworm...
your unborn...

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Today I walked on Autumn Leaves

the morning was different from night
there was light
as the Sun became the Sun
and the dove’s flight
had wings of courage!

the morning was different from night
as the kettle whistled a happy tune
and the song of the bird
on the neighbour’s window
was far from cacophony
yes, there was light
inside and outside.

the breeze
wanted an identity
bigger than the wind
a name more memorable
a life more forceful
a turn…more eventful
and was thus,
softer, lighter, gentler!

there was music
in horns and the hawker’s call
there was endearment
in the baby’s cries
heard through the fall
of the pestle on the mortar

No clamour
in rushing, shuffling feet
I heard stillness
in the chase of thoughts..
..as I stood
under Kailashpati,
clad in the motley foliage
of that flowering tree
I saw myself
in love..
in pity..
in spirituality/madness,
..or senility!
Whatever it was…
..it was surreal
In being just real!

The past left me
like the last breath of an aching life,
makes a sighing exit.
The leaves gathered around me,
falling, gliding and then resting
in that very moment
that I let go
of the future
from my eyes.

That moment
the Sun, the Breeze, the Flight
touched me
and I touched in quiescence
my moment ground
with crunching lightness
as I walked
on autumn leaves

I found my moment ground
as I walked on autumn leaves!