POEMS

AT THE NIGHT’S END

Profiles in the crimson sunset

Meet for the first time

When the dormant desires are ignited

In the long night to start

To explore the human geography

Both inner and outer

To probe into the mysteries of love

To discover a new relationship

Which will continue from birth to birth

Or may end, the next morning.

In those critical moments

Sometimes, total strangers put together

Fail miserably after a strenuous day.

Occasionally an animal springs on its prey

And that trauma remains forever

For a lucky few, it is just a beginning

Many more nights await with eternal moonlight

To build another Taj Mahal

Not with marble, but with flesh and blood.

FOREVER RAINY DAYS

You shall daydream

Of times begone

Of bonds broken

Of opportunities lost

Of life wasted.

It is a curse

As well as a blessing.

You shall re-live every moment

Subtracting the sorrows

Adding spices here and there

And multiplying the joys.

You shall brood over

The benumbing insensitivity of imposed restrictions

The influence of boiling rage.

You shall murder,

Time

Second by second

On a lazy bed.

For my part

I shall stand

As blind witness

At the door.

For you,

It will be

Forever rainy days.

FLAMES BURN FOREVER

Sweet memories linger on like islands

Allow not the waves of sorrow to submerge.

A sharp pain bursts out deep inside my heart

Whenever I think of you.

Those days:

The world stood still

Clocks never moved

Roads were paved with roses

Eternal spring was everywhere

You were forever young and innocent

And we played like children.

Time has changed

Along with it you too.

Against the ticking seconds nothing is static

And spring is but a season

There are summers and winters to follow

Paths strewn with stones and thorns

Lead you nowhere.

I feel for that lost innocence

For that joy of togetherness we had

Holding hands for hours forgetting everything.

You gave those most beautiful moments in my life

And I was the happiest man on earth.

That magic mirror lies shattered to pieces.

You are not the same one I met sometime ago

You look at me as if

I am a stranger whom you saw a

At a crowded bus stand on a busy day.

But there is a flame burning

In my heart of hearts

However feeble it may be

It will die only with me.

It gives me warmth during the coldest winter

And light in the darkest of nights.

Even if you can’t make it burn brighter

For heaven sake don’t extinguish it.

Let the flame burn forever.

SLAVES AND MASTERS IN SEARCH OF MASTERS AND SLAVES

My friend

I shall narrate

In words with out meanings

Fairy tales and nightmares

Along with the silence between heartbeats

And the long silence after the heart stops.

Never mind the way I say

For understanding is a matter of choice

And the choice is yours.

In the foreboding night

Over the borders of insanity

Nostalgic bloodhounds

Hunt memories nailed to the cross of time.

Trapped time encapsulated in icebergs

Await summer currents

To explode in magical swaying pendulums.

My desires,

I shall bury under the rainbow trees,

To blossom in the electric spring

In multicoloured splendours

Swaying with the grace of a first kiss

The creamy mist of an aftertaste

Lingering long, melting paler lips.

Over the satin smooth surfaces,

Longing fingers trace

Contours of a fading dream

Clinging at the extremities of hope

To have a look before it vanishes

To feel before it disappears.

As Eden garden scenes re-enacted

Adolescent autoerotic fantasies

Revolve around regions

Above and below the mid-riff

Release a primordial libido

For the propagation of the species

Burning holes in trouser tops.

Between conception and contraception

Stands the Creator

Between the tree and the seed

Stands the sower

The land just stares skyward

Wondering who is omnipotent.

Once I ploughed through

Receding waters of the ocean

Chasing giant turtles holding up worlds aloft

To reach the very foundations

Of our existence.

Even if you dare not join,

I shall proceed alone,

For, I came here lone

And shall leave so.

My burdens, I bequeath

To those who come after.

When festivals are over

Only garbage remain.

When wars are over

Only ashes remain.

I am the garbage

I am the ashes

I shall inherit the dirt of the world.

Out of dirt, shall grow

Grains, the poor shall relish

Fodder, for the beasts of burden.

Everyday, I invent reasons

For not committing suicide.

Everyday, I issue statements

Why I shouldn’t be hanged.

Everyday, I produce evidence

That I am still alive.

Everyday I battle death

Though the end is well known.

From that moment

My diary will remain blank.

Those unwritten pages

Shall stand in testimony

For the futility of life,

Of wasted years, of lost hopes,

A vain game played in time and space,

How in the crippling hold of senility

Lost youth decayed, like rotting fish

Until sealed in a coffin.

What for you were born

What for you lived

What for you died

What for, what for?

Those are unanswered questions

And shall remain so, for long.

But nothing stays on forever

Even pyramids crumble to powder

And permanence is no proof of greatness.

What if, you were still remembered

After a million years –

NOTHING

Another million years

And no trace of a memory even.

What you think you have done

Has no value.

Whatever you do

Has no meaning.

What you hope to do

Has no purpose.

Then why do it?

Why all this toil, you galley slave?

Why pace the floors of this prison?

Blast the doors and get out fast.

Find yourselves a Master.

If you have none

Realize you are one.

Where are your slaves

They shall labour for you

They shall tend the gardens

And bring the fruits to you

They shall care for the worlds

Created by you

They shall build temples

In honour of you.

What if, one day

All of a sudden you discover your Master

You know not his nature

Everyone wishes for good Masters,

Sing praises, offer gifts

Humble themselves before

Images of what they think he looks like –

What if, he is nothing like

Anybody’s wildest imaginations –

Terrific, That’s terrific……

Is every slave born

To search for his Master?

If all slaves go on searching

Who will do the labour?

Surely Masters won’t like it.

But what if, all Masters

Think themselves as slaves

And wander in search of Masters?

Then they must be mad, and mad Masters are more dangerous.

Either way it is foolish.

I go my own way

I think I am the Master

If you think you are also a Master

Join me, recruiting slaves.

In case you think yourself a slave

Then, serve Me.

FRIENDS AND NOT LOVERS

Your love was my fantasy

And mine was an illusion

When we were together

It was pages from a fairy-tale

Your dreams and my dreams

Mix in the maze of images

To form unrecognizable shapes

On blank screens of the mind.

Remember forever

Our days together

In my sunset days

I will think of those moonlit nights

Those soft whispers

That glitter in your eyes

And that faint smile

At the corner of your mouth.

Cherished memories stored

In fragile chambers

Shatters when struck with indifference.

Pieces can be joined, emotions can’t be restored

Time may heal, but scars remain forever

And bitterness linger on longer –

We may still hold hands, there is no thrill

We are friends and not lovers.