I breathed love
In Spring’s fragrance
When cherry blossoms showered
Soft white ovals
On my palms,
On my hair,
On my lashes
And on my nosetips,
Feather-touching
With the flutter of gentle breeze
When I walked on cushioned softness
Under my feet, on the white carpet
Which smoothed the green spikes
Of the meadow grass.
Grief has a way of showing up
When least expected.
One may be
In the middle of muddled thoughts,
In the middle of celestial imagination,
In the middle of frenzied activity,
In the middle of mundane packing
Or in the middle of old missives.
Grief raises its head
Unprovoked, uninvited,
It’s tentacles gripping,
Giving intense pain
And vivid longings.
Grief colors my thoughts
In my daily routines;
It enthralls my spirit
And I am a captive, helpless.
I seek relief
From entrapped feelings
Of what has gone before
And what will never happen.
I search for alleviation
In fantasy and romance
And found faux panacea!
Love is a conundrum:
I pondered and ruminated
On a pensive afternoon
And plucked daisy petals to answer
“Loves me , loves me not” question.
The gentle balmy breeze
Of the mild midsummer
Snuggled close to me
And wafted soft breaths
Towards my cheeks,
Caressing tenderly,
The wisps and tendrils of hair
Touching and soothing,
Leaving lover’s kisses.
The warmth brushed my skin,
Comforting me, engulfing me-
And I felt love beside me.
Love and life shook hands
And squeezed the grape of ecstasy to a pulp.
The ecstasy passed in a twinkling,
But the purple stain is left behind,
The stain of memories that linger
To the distraction of mind and soul.
Thoughts unravel
In moments of loneliness
Or, is it in solitude?
Days have become droplets of time
Crashing into the ones before
With no thoughts given
To any meaning or certitude.
I breathe clouds,
Suspiration fogging life’s mirror.
Clarity has escaped
And there were no answers.
Is it a vacuum I exist in
Or, am I in the woods
On meandering paths
Blocked by brambles
Of tangled memories-
Some sweet, some bitter
And some bittersweet.
Where is the half-remembered youth
With its amorphous hopes
Which never furled
And withered on the wayside?
Dreams became fettered
And looked askance at love
That germinated
At odd moments
And flourished at random
To melt like feathery flakes
On nose to leave damp spots
To nurture in drought years.
In the twilight, the memories twinkled
But the smudged lines obliterated
Crystalline memories
And left one baffled,
Reaching for the tangible,
Something to hold,
Something to feel,
To sustain a life left rudderless.
Dawn shook up and woke
With the sweetness of birdsong;
Crystalline spray of cataracts
Stippled the verdure on the banks
Where river Malini sparkled in mischief
And washed the footpath
Of golden grains of sand
Mingling with polished pebbles.
Shakunthala yawned and stretched
And saw, with unexpected lassitude,
The morning sun peeking
Through the thatched eaves.
There was something in the air,
She mused without concern
And whiled away lazy moments
In anticipation
Of another humdrum day
In the hermitage.
At the threshold, she stood
At life’s ephemeral moment
*Like an unworn gem,
*Like an unkissed bloom,
*Like an unplucked new leaf,
*Like an unsung melody,
*And untasted honey.
Though nubile, innocent she was,
Incognizant of the wiles
And worldly wickedness,
Living sheltered among sages!
The breeze was beckoning
And friends were waiting;
Down the footpath, she walked
Towards Malini’s shore,
Her heels digging deep into the sand
Marking her trodden path.
Some tremor tugged at her conscious self,
But she turned without thought.
She lifted her foot into her palm
As if to check for some unknown thorn!
What devious moment prompted her
To look towards the cluster of saplings?
Watching her with intent gaze
Was a resplendent creature,
A predator, albeit a king.
Facing that knowing look
Was the undoing of innocence.
There was no thorn in the sole,
But the disturbing tremor continued.
Two pairs of eyes met
In time old mating
And Shakunthala was lost
To her hermitage irrevocably
When she drowned in the eyes
Of the worldly wise monarch.
* Kalidasa
As the waves roar in your ears,
As the foam kisses your feet,
As your toes wriggle into the sea-soaked sand,
As your nostrils quiver at the smell of brine
And as the salty breeze caresses your cheeks,
Look beyond the horizon
And see the wide expanse of a world
That does not pinch and pierce your imagination
And wrinkle your life into waning lines!
The rain-washed grass glistened
In the pale morning sun;
The dew drops scintillated
Sending radiance through prisms.
The road serpentined along the banks
Of the curvy Mohawk river
Which washed the foot rests of the bills
And mountains of the Adirondacks.
The lambant light of the early sun
Shone on the green-fisted valley
And the greens danced in varied vestitures
Starting with nature’s first green of gold
Sprinkled on mint greens and lime greens
Of the newly sprouted leaves
While the dark green of the conifers
Stood sentry to the vista of the Valley
And smudged into the crowns of distant peaks.
The river flows in an arabesque
Of lines of movement and placid reverie,
Sluiced by the water gushing from open locks.
The reflected greens and shadows
Is a palette of varied values.
A paean of joy rose up in my breast
To exalt this feast of green glory and sunshine,
Full of promises to be fulfilled.
On the wings of fancy,
I travelled to Paradise,
Adventured in Arabia,
Climbed Olympus
And sparkled in fairy dust-
Timeless gifts
Of untold pleasures,
More precious
Than diadems and gems-
All showered from one
Whose voice is a memory
And whose gentle smile
Is pressed between pages
Of pensive recollections.
I stood in front of a name
Etched on the wall of monuments
And the face swam in front
Of eyes swimming in tears
And yearning for a look, a voice,
Or a smile!
I could not raise a sound
To pay homage to that voice
That stilled for our times;
My eyes could not open
To see those eyes bent in kindness
And the smile that blossmed
Perpetually, never wavering,
Never skewed in complaint,
Always taking in the arrows
Shot by life’s crossfire
It is the benefice
And benediction
Of my todays!
Lily of the valley
Spins not, weaves not-
But outdid Solomon in splendor!
Lily of my heart
Toils and strives;
The sweat of brow
Glistened every moment.
Yet, She outshone in splendor,
The beauty of her soul
Outshining the beauty of her surrounds.
There was the smile
That coated her days.
No complaint crossed her lips
And no whining marred
The music of her voice.
Lily sang out in dulcet tones,
Her life scripting the lyrics.
She provoked no one
And caused no turmoil,
But quietly bid farewell,
Ending her painful sojourn
On this land of travails.
RosyView 