Before the Petals Unfold (2002)

1.                  LIFE— AN ENIGMA

Life lies spanned
in the palms of hands
like a map on table
in an observatory.
Before the petals

unfold themselves
one by one and sprinkle smile,
the pink on cheeks welcomes
like a cheerful doorman.
Perceptive eyes to read

the enigma, to drink
at the fount of beauty like
a heaven-gazer lilts on an endless lake
when he peeps through his eye great.

2.                  BOUGHS OF HEAVEN

Ride crane-white horses,
Snap links with chains
Of time and space.
Fly past the Sun,

Sans care for Cleopatras
And hell bounds
On stygian wings
To farthest heaven.

Mind in black holes,
Not on Helen’s face.
Distance and dissociate
Bonds of desires.

Drink at the fount
Of Proserpine under
The cozy, evanescent
Boughs of Heaven.

3.                  DOWN THE DRAIN

All effort goes down the drain
to straighten the weak
back bent in Spring

 under Himalayan
weight of care and concern.
A stump sprouts from

the dry, desert dunes.
Rats nibble at
emerald twigs, wolves

dig at the roots
in search of bones.
Owls hoot, vultures

gyrate. Mingled
cacophony horrendous
at the dead of night.

Will ever dark dense
make way, fog disperse
for myriad morn to blush?

4.                  DEATH BY FIRE

The dance of death by fire
at Dabwali1
hardly wizened from the mind,
the one at Baripada2,

followed by one at Mina,
goes down into the heart
like a lance and compels
one doubt His omnipotence.

Wounded and dazed lie
jerks and jolts of joy.
What a poetic justice!
Fruit of past karma?

Owl-hoots reverberate,
prophesy a Flood.
Pigmy man struts stunted
in the hollow of a dead tree.

Man, a helpless mortal
in this drama of despair.
The ship out in the stormy sea;
charred, little hope of repair!

1Fire at Dabwali in Haryana consumed hundreds of students and parents celebrating DAV centenary celebrations in January 1995.
2Fire at Baripada in Orissa killed hundreds of people, on 23rd February 1997, assembled for “Nigomananada” convention.
3Fire that broke out in the tents of Haj pilgrims at Mina, Mecca, on 15th april 1997, burnt hundreds of devotees to death.

5.                  LIFE AND DEATH

Heat is life.
Coldness, death.

My crawling fingers crave
To feel the peaks of moon
In this frost with a hope to flow
From stasis to flux,
From coldness to heat.

Shivering birds dissent.
Frost and mist win.
Cries and dissents freeze.
Old, effete sun is cold.

Dark capsule closes jaws
In the sea of reality.
Dewy hopes transpire,
Truth settles  like lead.

Heat is life.
Cold, death.

6.                  BEHOLD HER ATOP THE TREE

Behold her perched
Atop the tallest tree on the hillside
With her sickle she sits
Between the earth and the sky –
A trishanku!

Passionate wind tickles bosom,
Crimson cheeks, roses in bloom;
Loose hair frolic with wind;
Water, in the stream below,
Holds her in its bowl.

One gazes and gapes
Beholding her atop the tree
That dances in the wind
And she, like a fairy, fills
The valley with her sonorous song.

7.                  IN BROAD DAYLIGHT

For some
queer reason
river loses temper;

Swells and roars
and runs down
to drown a lass
working in her fields.

A bolt from the blue!

Down she goes
borne on boiling waves
to the realm of Yama.

The dawn was bright,
noon, the darkest!

Things do bechance
so sudden
in broad daylight
to bring home to man
the slippery existence
of his sojourn.

8.                  JOURNEY’S END

YOU have
guided my journey
through cave,
and bronze
to the present atom
on which I stand and look
right and left: arduous climb,
an infamous fall.

Guide me through the spiral
to reach YOU
wherefrom I long to drink
to end my journey
across the canyons of TIME.

9.                  SPRING TICKLES IN BLOOD

With the death of December
come new hopes and aspirations:

The ice of sloth begins to thaw
with the approaching of March,
intractable fingers yield,
frozen mind begins to stir,
spring tickles in blood.

Images flutter wings,
As if been sleeping for long,
Prepare for their flight.
Eyes read in them
Ample longings,
New flood.

10.              THE MERCIFUL

Is He ever displeased, the Lord Supreme,
With His own creation? Most calm and serene!

In His hour of sadness and solitude,
He did meditate and deep did compute.

Deep He thought to do away with His lot,
Rid Himself of sloth; fancy’s door He smote.

Creation’s first thought into His mind ran,
On spinning wheel of mind He, then, life span.

From His melancholy, he gained respite,
Took His tools to carry out the exploit.

In the creation of air and matter,
And such other things that also matter.

The dream of world – varied and beautiful,
Made Him merry, dance and sing full throatful.

Life budded from Eternal joy. Root
Cannot be annoyed with its shoot.

11.              THE NUDGING PRESENT

At horizon eyes stroll
to watch the holy marriage
of Earth and Sky.

The past far behind,
the future far ahead,
the present nudges from

an elfin cave down to ground.
The wound bleeds. The hoary
past full of dead dreams.


Let us in the freezing heat
Of mangled relations
Search for a berth, where
Ebullient chill warms
And hatred, strip-teased.

Like snake shedding its slough,
Love buds forth like a lily
That sprinkles
Cheerfulness around.

Let us leave behind
This world full of icy chill
And mount up a higher hill
Where sun shines warm and bright
Against mundane gall and fright.

13.              STAMPEDE

As I try to shove in
The dry logs of reason
Into your empty skull
To open it
To the vast and varied
Beauties of the world,
You cry, resent and weep.

By the time you let one drill a hole,
The Sun would have sunk;
Before it actually sinks,
Open the door of the cell,
Race through the crowd in mazes,
Watch: headless, cactus-faced swarms
Engaged in stampede.
The milk of mankind
Dried in dreary human heart.

Crabs dance, doves huddled,
Stems steal into soil,
Roots rise into light.

14.              ANAEMIC SUN

My back aches, as I foray without
To see twinkling stars studded in sky.
Cold air from white peaks tickles
Pleasantly in the serene quiet within.

The walls tease me for
My impuissance. Stung by
Humiliation and desire

Dig a hole in a rickety rock
For fresh blood to give new
Life to anaemic Sun.

15.              THE TRAPPED

A fish in a house of flint
Strives violently:
Rises to top, sinks to bottom,
Strikes its head against
Elusive walls to join her tribe.

Soul! You, too, trapped,
Busy in an unending bid
To catch at the anchor-hold,
To snap the steely strings,
To build a bridge, to reach the home.

Riding the horse of hope
Man is ever engaged, must cope
With the eternal longing of the soul
To seek the worlds beyond the Sun
Before his race on earth is run.

16.              TREASURE ISLAND

Sleep, caress, furrow
deep into the bowls of earth
until the fountain
springs in the beatitude
of a rainbow.

A flash on faces
stolen from the treasure
island of heaven.

Peep into halcyon pools:
Dive deep into dream
at the bottom of lake
with its sibylline silence.

17.              ABOVE EVERYTHING

It rained - 
the first pleasant rain
after the fire for months.

I read:
Hanshan, Jung Kwoong,
Ikkyu – the Kyounshi
And realized,
To know
Empty mind
Of the dirt-hill, the debris of eons.
Zen, ch’an, dhyana
not different –
the same essential truth
of lotus budding forth from mud,
a rose in a jungle of thorns.

Let malyaja spread
fragrance of heaven,
light show the path
to the Great Beyond
above the clouds,
above the Sun,
above everything.

18.              JUNGLE OF HYENAS

Anger is death.
Each day I die
a hundred deaths
unlike Phoenix.

The fire
doesn’t consume,
it singes.

In this jungle
teeming with hyenas
one longs for melody.
All moans and cries.

I fall and sink
into a river full of mud
without redemption.

Where man’s machinations
munch man into oblivion,
death is the best reward
for one living in inferno.

19.              A BLIND RACE

A stone falls
In a placid pool
Crystal clear and cool.
The stone sinks to bottom,
Waves race towards the banks.

The world is a pool:
Honest and innocent
Sink like the stone,
Light and lingering foul
Rise to the surface,
Spread like the waves.

The fire silent in heart
Ever ready to swallow
The relative time
Far from the banks of pool.
Time dogs one like akaash1
Finitely in infinite space.

Ethics and morals marginalized
By the money-minded man
Who carries a bag of ashes
In this blind race to grave.

1a missile

20.              GREEN MEMORIES
(on the death of a 3-year old)

There comes an unwanted guest
To snap the cord,
Young or old, babe or child,
With cold sensitivity;

Stunned souls left aghast
To sob and sigh.
The felled tree flames in fire,
Light gropes in gloom,
Legions of green memory
Left behind on the sands of time
To shear tendons and sinews.

Red pain slithers to yellow
As the waves in sea scale the shores.
Stocks gaze and gaze
At the crimson skies,
Void nestled in cork eyes.

For the same dreaded guest
To steal in to snap the gossamer
That holds the ship to anchor
And set it free
To wade across the wide, wide sea.


21.              LIFE

an endless tale of
vales, dales and hills
from the blackholes
of eternity;
a dance set to tune
by Master Divine.
Man reels and reels
until the musician decides
to terminate the tune.

mere cog
in the wheel of time.
No will but
ordained to act and dissolve
from dark to dark.

amalgamated with deeds,
heaven, hell and hell-fire.
A carnival of colours:
yellow, pink, red and green,
white, blue and black.

the beginning.
One continues to race in maze
ignorant about exit
from this chakravyuha
till the Light
leads out of dark
and accompanies
to regain the paradise lost.


22.              DESIRE FOR VOID

I walk on the surface
of a crystal clear lake
that expands into an ocean.
I see my shadow in the water.
A spark rises from the bottom.

Desire ensnares, makes
stubborn, self-centred and stupid,
the spark continues to rise.

Realizes the need
to debunk mind
to the centre of void.
At birth
all blue sky
devoid of delusion.

Why not to revert
to VOID to encompass
the whole creation?

23.              MOMENTOUS MOMENTS

Sun’s steady shake up
From the sea of slumber
Lets loose
An ocean of music
From the founts in mountains,
The hearts of woods deep,
Down to the vast plains.

Sun’s golden glimmer
Paints the vast expanse.
One gleefully gazes
And regales ears
With symphonies of Nature
Seized from the halls of Heaven!

In these momentous moments
Time melts personal pains.
All is a grand gala
Of guileless ecstasy.


24.              VIRTUE WEEPS

A dew drop
on a green blade of grass
enthralls the golden light
from the Sun
and sends it out
with added
sheen of delight.

Man on this Earth
no less sublime and pure
than the dew drop
but reluctant to catch
at the crystal rays from
the seventh heaven.

A true amalgam
of angel and Satan
delights much
in the latter’s company
than the former.
Virtue weeps bitterly.
Silently sobs the dew 
and Satan smiles
at his success.


25.              A TRIANGLE

I love
your eyes,
her body,
and that there
her sprawling hair
like dark clouds
vaulting the hills
in Savana1.

You three
are the vertices
of the triangle
with me
as an epicenter.

Any play
of this centre
a catastrophe
and leaves
planets astray.

Mutual love
provides the pull
to preserve the planets
and keep them
content in their orbits.


26.              A TERRIBLE STORM

She came
like a butterfly
to the beauteous bloom
 and spread her arms
around my neck;
looked love
deep into love’s eyes.

So aghast the love,
failed to know
how to respond?
She planted the sweetest kiss
he had never had,
drunk to daze
in the passionate embrace.

She with her charm
mesmerized and courted,
pealed scales
to dive and swim,
to quell the fire,
to taste the bliss.

Sun and earth
in close communion.
A terrible storm:
boisterous wind blew and blew,
dark clouds thundered ,
sky pounded the earth.

After the rain:
the earth satiated,
sky cool, calm and clear.
Pleasure pearls,
the happy hearts never shed,
rolled down
bright with sunny glow.

Ere the dark clouds
could gather again to entice
a ray bright atop
the distant pearl-white peak
mirrored the pink of heart.
Before the quake rocked the isle
His will was done.


27.              YESTERDAY IS NOT TODAY

Yesterday is not today
nor today will be tomorrow;
yet tomorrow has its roots
deep in the fertile
soil of yesterday.

We are not
what our ancestors were,
nor mutants,
but chained fast to them
like the Earth to the Sun.

Discontentment, the mother of quest:
the Sun that sets in the west
keeps one waiting for the dawn.
From the follies cuddled in nest
one can learn much to be wise.

Every new moment
springs from the womb
of the moment gone by,
fertilized in mind
bears young one of its kind.

28.              IN DESERT

In this desert
at noon
I sit unrobed
and foresee
the sun sinking into sands
at horizon.

The jackals howl
as the dark jungle moves in
and shadows
lengthen to infinity
dissolve in dark.

Pale moon
sprouts from the sands
and moves on her journey
awe-struck at the howls.
Shadows bleed,
burns turn cancerous
in this land of mirage.

29.              YUGOSLAVIA

Torture, rape and guns,
bullets, fire and smoke, air-raids,
sirens’ deafening sounds.

Men, women, children –
lopped branches on ground,
stones in sun and sleet.

Blood and soil blent
bodies wizen in snow and shower
grass grows on blood.

An explosion shakes,
steel-mansions collapse sand dunes,
dreams drop in debris.

Death and debris,
devastating fire,
cadaver on cadaver.

One and all rub
white chill beneath bare skies
in blind mazes.

Hounds hound in homes,
sky rains missiles,
paradise lost on good Earth.

God and self-styled
saviours busy in awful activities:
death and doom.

Hatred and ego
embrace to prawn holocaust,
illusion new haven.

30.              UPON THE SNOWY HEIGHTS
(for Kargil Heroes)

Upon the craggy pikes of snowy height,
Laying down your lives for your people’s sake,
You fought so well and showed the world your might!

Far from warmth of home and hearth, a true knight,
Each of you your precious life did forsake
Upon the craggy pikes of snowy height!

Not for berths but for country you did fight,
To make the foolish realize their mistake;
You fought so well and showed the world your might!

You shot them dead, ere they thought of their flight,
Your war cry rent the sky, the hills did shake
Upon the craggy pikes of snowy height!

To see your valour, the world did surmise;
Each hand made of steel, each heart full of mirth.
You fought so well and showed the world your might!

When’ll the grateful people forget your might?
Your sacrifice stands grand, a house of light!
Upon the craggy pikes of snowy height,
You fought so well and showed the world your might!

31.              I WONDER AT HIS JUDGEMENT
(a villanelle for the cyclone-hit people of Orissa)

As I hear crackers fired, see fireworks play,
My heart goes to people scattered like logs.
I wonder at His judgement in dismay!

A cyclone, nay, super-cyclone did stray
Over the homes, the trees, waters and bogs.
As I hear crackers fired, see fireworks play!

Hot winds and waves rush to land, there to stay;
All men, animals, plants caught in the smogs.
I wonder at His judgement in dismay!

Dead bodies begin to rot and decay,
Feed on them marooned wolves and dogs.
As I hear crackers fired, see fireworks play!

Life and death lose meaning, all turn to clay,
An awful spectacle the eyes befogs.
I wonder at His judgement in dismay!

Their sin so great to earn death, well-a-day!
At an eye’s blinking their life for good stops.
As I hear crackers fired, see fireworks play,
I wonder at His judgement in dismay!


32.              MY KITCHEN-GARDEN
(a villanelle)

I pick up my sickle and hoe and go
To my kitchen-garden some seeds to sow.
To clear it of weeds, I decide to plough.

I’m not alone. As I get up to go,
A pair of mynas come down you know.
I pick up my sickle and hoe and go.

With my hoe, worms come up, they know.
They scoop down from the top of tree below.
To clear it of weeds, I decide to plough.

With love and care, as best as I can, I trow;
I take the weeds out, level soil to sow.
I pick up my sickle and hoe and go.

Sickle shaves plants of leaves – slow, slow;
I manure the soil, plants I hope to grow.
To clear it of weeds, I decide to plough.

Mynas and worms strive to keep life aglow.
In my kitchen-garden some seeds I sow.
I pick up my sickle and hoe and go,
To clear it of weeds, I decide to plough.


33.              LOST AMONG THE SAND-DUNES

I cross the boiling river
Go up a black crag
With the hope of some foothold;
It thaws under its own weight
And merges into the ebullient river.

I cry at the top of my voice.
There he halts like a traveler
Lost among the sand-dunes
Hearing an echo
Coming, as if, from the far end
Of the horizon.

On seeing a mirage
In the white-hot desert
I lay counting
The ends of nerves
Smothered by the hot blast of wind.


34.              A SHEEN SUN

A sheen sun slides down
Through a chink in the roof.
Fresh air flows in
Through the wide open window.

The trees wave cheerfully,
Blossoms laugh merrily,
The beauty of those white peaks
Is beyond all measures.

Let us, let us all
Give it a warm welcome.
Before our minds begin to stink
Let us dance and the orgy drink.

35.              A CAPTIVE SUN

Sun bridged with Earth
Heat flows down the bridge,
A lush green sapling is born.

It is pink with hope,
Love, lust and rainbow.
Sees the bright sun around.

Wonder-struck it
Flood of blood, aghast to see.
Captive sun. Sank down in awe.

36.              HOPES BELIED

It is X-mas today
mountain peaks
stare at the sky for clouds,
rain and snow
to bedeck as newly-wedded bride.

Santa Claus’s gift—
hope and happiness
in the year to follow,
eludes one and all.

All hopes are belied
besides despair and sorrow
of an Airbus hijacked.
Death dogs souls in sky.

Flowers transform into thorns
in human psyche
for eons to come…


37.              A FROZEN POOL

Today I saw
the last pale leaf
fall from the tree
in the lap of hills
bewailing for a drop of water,
for the release of hostages,
for the restoration
of exiled human values,
for a glimpse of glint
on the faded faces in street.

This dry winter surpasses all
in antipathy. Everything seems to sink
to the bottom
far, far away
from the banks of mankind
into a frozen pool.


38.              ESOTERIC

Always a log
unable to comprehend sun,
chill and frost.

Summer and rains,
Spring and autumn,
Winter rains supreme.

An answerless corpse
to crack nut
on the back of Vikramaditya …


39.              VULTURRES AND CROWS

Vultures and crows
Simulate swans.
Peck at carcass
At the cross.

Deft in intrigue,
Dream to behead.
Who dare show light,
Lead out of darkness?

Messiahs of
Stinking multitude
Wallow like pigs
In a dirty ditch.

Human values touch
Their nadir, never
In human history
Stooped so low…


40.              A FALCON FREEDOM

I know
I cannot return.
The bridge I walked on
Fell under its weight.

The green, pink, red
Far behind.
The brown and grey,
I never knew
To be so sweet.

I feel
A falcon freedom
To fathom
The deepest skies.

A glance
Abounds all around:
The fullness of kalpas
And even beyond …



In the lukewarm sun,
When it should have been cold
Of infant January.
Shelling peas, eyes
On the distant hills –
Weak, emaciated, naked.

The plantain leaves
Wave at wayfarers.
Thin clouds raise some hope
In wilted hearts,
Parched earth not sure.

Months have died one by one
Since last July.
Sun slowly sinks down,
Shadows rise to the sky.
A toddler tittle-tattles at the whining dog.
Workmen look at watches.
A papiha cries for a drop of water.


42.              DUST UNTO DUST

Death, these days
never knocks at door,
rides machines racing fast
(being fed up with his buffalo).

Bodies and souls are severed
with a bang to follow
their disparate routes amidst final
gasps, cries, shrieks moans.

The race ends for many,
the sun sets before dawn.
Dust unto dust;
sombre hush is born

of the horrific bang,
cork eyes bleed,
stone hearts melt,
mist envelops all.


43.              THE SAME MARIGOLD

They sat
eyes in eyes
sailing in the seas
of fathomless vast
in search of corals and pearls
lost for ages.

A bitch beside
on her haunches:
swims with them
across the ocean,
the sole witness;
recalls the past
lost long ago in dark.

Man and animal
different, yet alike;
pluck at the same sun.
foray through the dark of dawn
come home
with the same marigold.


44.              I’M LITTLE…

I’m a little innocent,
pure as Ganga at Gangotri,
free from world’s viles.

Begin to sing
nursery rhymes in bed.
Know as I grow
I’ll be Yamuna in Delhi.
Venom enters the veins,
I’m patient on table
waiting for the doctor
with scissors and scalpels.

Would they could
take the ulcer out
from this ailing body
leaving it Volga to Ganga,
Mississippi to Sikiang,
crystal clear, drossless, rich
in the milk of humanity!


45.              CRIMSON TO CRIMSON

Crimson in the east:
hope springs like bud
from the dark night.

Crimson in the west:
journey through dark
in the endless sea.

White blaze at noon:
fusion of hope,
fission of doubt.

Crimson to crimson:
through white blaze a bridge
to bridge here and above.


46.              A DAY IN RAINS

The morning, heavy as lead:
clouds thunder, lightning flashes,
rains in torrents.
A cascade:
“water, water everywhere”.

Floors flooded:
young and old
try in vain
to keep the water out.

Evening calm,
the dark clouds
melt away
by and by.

The night, crystal clear –
smoky shutters slither away
like the veil
of a newly wedded bride.

The world contracts into eyes:
moon smiles at the dark ghosts
meditating in knee-deep water
to ward off scourge and Scylla.


47.              VICTIMS OF EGO

Victims of ego
Keep fighting
The ruthless shadows.

Shore deeper than
The deeps; try to saunter
On the peaks of sea-mountains.

Fire buds forth
From water and floods
The banks broken into smithereens.

Build bridges across
The singed human hearts using
Cement from air, girders of water.

Watch from distance, mountains
Crossing on wheels
Of time beyond horizon.

Helplessly await a Dhanvantri1
From Smudra-manthan2
To diagnose long fossilized hearts.

1Mythical first vaidya (doctor) of the Gods
2The mythical churning of sea



I am
Neither a man
Nor a woman.

For my
Prowess and
Are lost
In the black-hole
Of lust and greed.

The spring
That flows
Has nothing but blood

And ashes
Carefully urned
After the forest-fire.
The sparrow that
Lost eggs in fire
Doesn’t bewail
Or cry
Or shed tears –
A stone on electric wire,

In this crazy night
Can you tell me
What am I ?


(A Pantoum)

The sun at the horizon slips
Down into the dark dale of gloom;
The northern chill, the mind grips,
Chilly darkness remains all to bloom.

Down into the dark dale of gloom,
Beyond the hill, beyond the land,
Chilly darkness remains all to bloom,
And in the wild, wild sea we stand.

Beyond the hill, beyond the land,
We sojourn in the moral void,
And in the wild, wild sea we stand,
The heat of life, we are devoid.

We sojourn in the moral void,
And dare not face bemoaning truth;
The heat of life, we are devoid,
Devoid of daring; cowards forsooth.

And dare not face bemoaning truth,
Here the milk of man is dried;
Devoid of daring; cowards forsooth,
Chivalry of man is all tried.

Here the milk of man is dried,
Man’s horrible deeds blood congeal,
Chivalry of man is all tried,
There’s no effort the man to heal.

Man’s horrible deeds blood congeal,
Man from morals off it strips,
There’s no effort the man to heal,
Sun at the horizon down slips.


50.  VIRUS

Virus has,
Besides destroying our
Vital systems and organs,
Begun to corrode our thought;
Puss of hatred flows out from the sore,
No scavenging in view.

Man, the noble deed of God,
Made in His own image,
Is rotten. A heap of debris.
Big mansions erected
On the ground of ethics
Fall down like sand-dunes in storm.

The maze leads
To a chakravyuha
With Abhimanyu-consciousness
To come out of this trap
Full of oblivion, din and dusk,
Despite twinkling on far off hill.


The granite labour of the craggy climb,
The ragged road below is left far behind.
In the land of lords, we stand now.
Put down on ground your sacks of load and rest
Propped on emerald mossy sheet green.

Recline to rest where you please, heap deep
The air that is all around undefiled.
Let your looks roam around far and wide
To glut your senses on the sight and smell,
On the rainbow, on the velvet soft touch.

Petals give, the cool of heavenly dew;
No fence, no wall nor any barbed wire
Lie down or stroll as you please to refresh
The eyes, the minds, and the lungs with
Morn fresh air that comes young from forests

And falls soft on this height for heart’s delight;
The crowded cities and towns are left and
Left far below. Now rest in serene air.
The sky above is clear, sheen, and azure:
See through it into the bowls of the sky.

No hill to impede the free flight of gaze;
On the highest peak now we rest and breathe.
Let us seize the sheen and catch the calm peace
And catch in eyes the rainbow hues of skies
In future to feed on the dainties of memory.



Tears well up my eyes
and trickle down
like the droplets of rain
warm as March days,
sad like autumn.

Heart is soft
after the flood is over
like the wind in September.
The horizon in front is solemn,
awaiting warmth in December.

Warm tears, briny tears!
Tears trap the ‘bow,
I know.
Dear tears, tear dear!


The first ray
of the rising sun
pours out
molten gold
which steadily transforms
into a sea of silver

The dragged sloth of night
steadily shakes
and stripteases itself
in the sea

Ghosts of night
don stolid shapes


When I was green
never bothered
about the summer red
and blazing hot sands.

There was a quake,
the earth vomited fire;
there was smoke and smoke,
the wind blew and blew,
the trees clashed in the wood.

I stood a silent spectator
staring at the fury of nature.

The pin at horizon visible.
Ulysses beckons from afar.



With rainbow in heart
and flowers in eyes
the little tulips
the Kuchchh streets at dawn
singing of hymns
to peace and independence –
little knew
of their weight that made
mother earth
revolt in protest
and shudder violently
forcing the low huts,
towering towers
to fall down
like the pack of cards
burying the young and the old,
the fair and the ugly,
the rich and the poor;
a lesson in secularism
to men who cry hoarse
about the fake faith
enshrined in their selfish hearts!


Rivers of blood
Din of cries
Rent the skies.

The dazed eyes
Turned stolid to see
The dance of death.

Trembled, the strong hands;
Cluttered, the cold bones;
Suffused, the traumatic eyes.

Faith was lost,
Hope was lost,
Lost, the love of life.


It needs time
To dispel trauma
From terrified hearts,

And time
To raise towers
From the heap of debris,

And time
Above all to instill
Love in lacerated hearts,

And time
To melt the frost
From the frozen eyes.

Rainbow and tulips
Crouched beneath
Horrendous hills of horror

Need be cared
And caressed
To let

A new bud
Bloom into a fragrant
flower in a desert.