In Remembrance

Meri adhoori kahani

Lo daastaan ban gayi

Tu ne chhuya aj aise

Main kya se kya ban gayi

White pages and a long silence

Wrapped in a quiet deep wish,

A little prayer, and unspoken hymns 

Shyly pass your moulds of words

Through the shadows of countless

Heart broken, tired lanterns 

You light with a sooty flame

Like the kohl in my eyes.

Like whispers of white

Among the petals of a faint rose

I ask my heart if you do

Recall my image, in dusky fragments

And bursts of cloudy aspirations,

Like a long lost music, 

A half forgotten letter,

A missed heart beat.

In remembrance sudden and intense

Puddles of golden light

Accumulate at my eyes and unfold

A screen of tales, a hundren mischiefs untold.

I wish on the curling smokes of incense

May you live well and be happy

O Flier of blue kites.

A tear for you,

The purest gift 

In remembrance

Of times lost in dream

KALEIDOSCOPE

Every morning as you wake up

And hold me to your lips like

The first glass of awakening

Water --- I become your need.

You cuddle up with the pillow

One last time and in your thoughts

You look at me 

Like a deer looking at its fawn.

I become a tender drop of dew.

You smile and hold my face

In your palms, cupped into a chalice.

I melt like sunshine and

Become a golden winged dream.

You kiss my eyelids

I feel like the luckiest starlet

Fallen through miles of silent skies

Only reborn to be your love.

When you rest your cheek 

Against my velvety skin

And touch my dimple with those lips

I feel like a wisp of cloud.

I want to spread my wings

Among the bluest of the royal skies

And take you with me

Among the petals honeyed with care.

I want you to hold my hand

As I take us away on green extremes

Afloat across life

Like evening flowers in a rippling stream.

Delirium

You switch off the lights

And lie on your bed

While weaving a lonely thread. 

I come quiet, slow and silently

Flow on the streams of your mead.

I sit on the darkness the night

Promises, like a closed rose-bud.

As shy to the lips of a lover, yet

Yearning to touch the moist dew

On your skin and yet, tenderly nimble.

My fingers touch the grass on your bosom

And blossom out like morning flowers.

I rain down on your face like a shower

Of bokul -- fragrant and nostalgic of 

School summers and choked lectures.

The rain in your eyes shine through my

Forgotten face and reshapes my core of light.

I frame myself as images in dreams

And birds in homeward flight.

I fold my hair in ripples of night

That weaves through your sleep 

And rest. I smile a flicker of golden 

Flame that shines across your crest.

I find my nook and return to the nest

You built inside your breast.

YELLOW

The mustard fields are gay

With cheer a thousand times

Galore than all the charging waves

Foaming like champagne celebration

 

Florets of disked delight

Beam at the bright in dark hues

Flaunting their brave flags of

Joy, sheer joy at the flaming sun

"Sunflowers!" they simply claim

A handful of evening rain

Shimmers through hues of gold

As he shines beyond the sylvan clouds

Like a poet who smiles

Beyond paints and white 

A piece of turmeric promise

Tied in a string 

And woven around her 

Neck on a marigold morning

Showers hopes of togetherness

The Genesis

Of fire, gold and immortal pages

Of Art and the Artisan

Spring nights,

Warm with the fragrance of

Mango blossoms 

And the crystal star dust

Spread in peace 

Across the blackness

Of my eyes

Reflected in the nocturnal

Glass sky 

Seduces your manly art

Of creation --

The dance of Shiva

Frenzied in love;

The utmost Love 

That only she can hold 

Who inspires the dance 

Of destruction

Of helpless desire

The meaningless cravings

To belong

To own

To possess

Impassion

Love

Kiss

Hold

In

Peace

Shantam shantam shantam

Come

Dance to the music 

Of my anklets

The Terminal Post

I don't write anymore
Not to some casual eyes
Who would go through my beads
Of charmed prayers
And the holy smoke of thoughts,
Only with his sight.

Tell me, if you care
And only if you do,
I will write
And write just for you
A pair of glad eyes
And a mind that thinks
And dares to dream beyond the
Muddy and earthy things.

But of course you are caught
Between pairs of handsome legs
And skin of volatile
Youth and tenderness.
And clothes, purses, rings
Shirts, bedrooms, flings
And buses full of bodies
Swarming in sweat.

I have stopped writing
I pray quietly in my head
For you and all those there
Who believe in drops of woe.