THE TRYST

Lost in a horizon, my eyes fail to see the zenith.
In my effort to find a way out,I reach the place
where I started.


I know
Whatever was, is and will be offered to me
was never mine.

All those tokens will remain here, long after I'm gone.
But,nevertheless I pile them up again and again.
Tie them with threads of love,affection,attachment and greed.
I often ponder,
Why should I sacrifice anything that is rightfully mine ?


I shrug off all my tears, seeming worthless to others
Proudly clutching each insult,hatred,mockery
and vulgar comment that life inflicted on me.
I think I'll return them someday .
But to whom??Where??



All around me I see a battlefield,a 'Kurukshetra'
Of the known and the unknown.
Whom shall I bestow with
This cocktail of abuses,
Which I never liked myself ?



Rather I'll keep it all for myself.
I shall treat them as my ornaments.
Obviously,I won't go empty handed.
When we meet, he'll see it for himself
That I know how to deck myself in all finery
Tying my hair into a gorgeous bun
Lining my eyes with the black pestilence of bad names
And all my poignant frustrations metamorphosizing into
this sparkling red ruby on my finger.

THE WILL

Had not quite collected all
That life had offered me,
No accounts were kept
Of pleasures…..
Of illegitimate achievements…..
I counted them,
The retreating waves,
The moonlight lost in thoughts,
The blue sea foam
Surrendering to those timed waves,
The silence of the deep nights..
Broken dreams under eyelids
Criss-crossing lines on palms
The brown course of dried tears
The sky filled with stars of disillusion.

Many a times have I fixed,
The already-worn jewel of infamity.
Many a times have I set foot
In the infernal fire of sin.
The joy of getting burnt
Is an art in itself….
The untold pain of losing oozing blood
Is an art in itself….
The helplessness when each cry
Refuses to be a word ..
Hearts shattered as sand-castles
Plight of barren Casuarina groves
Painting pictures with gentle yellow hues
Sourced from the bouquet of all failures
Is an art in itself…..

P.S. : 12th August-the anniversary of the dearest lady of my life.....Also the first anniversary of this blog.

Words fail me...all I can say is, I love you Mamma...

A BIRD'S LIFE - 29

One day I’ll not be here.
My breath will mingle with the winds.
Arrival and departure is a ritual here.
My footprints will be lost
On these trodden paths….

My dreams would sleep on this earth.
My teardrops will flow down the stream.
The petal of memories will fade in the wet dewdrops.
The lust of life will be lost
In the light mists…

O Bird !
I would lay as soil or ashes
Till the rain of love
Reincarnates me as a shady tree….

Note: This is the translation of one of the poems in the anthology "PAKHEE JANMA" (published in Oriya,meaning "A Bird's Life"). The book is a collection of 41 poems penned by my mother.

The above poem is the 29th piece of the collection.

I REMEMBER...

I remember...

The moment I first saw you

When I first looked into your eyes

I felt a tremor,pass down my spine

But you remained unaffected.

I remember...

The other times

Fate put us together.

The many efforts I made

To reach out to you

But you remained indifferent.

I remember...

How desperate I felt

When I did not feel

your presence near,

When I tried to let you know

how much I yearned for you.

But you never seemed to care.

I remember...

The day you were leaving

And I saw you passing by..

My eyes brimming with

unshed tears,

Wondering if you would take me along.

But you never noticed.

I remember...

The tumult I felt within me

Waiting to reveal my

feeling to you,

wanting to probe into

Your silence

And then...

I felt your

eyelids rise..

The time stood still

when you stopped

and nodded.

And

I understood you cared.