Category Archives: Poetry

The Blue Jeans

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Brand-labelled, yet earthy,
The blue jeans reigns
Among the youthful togs,
Supremely assuring
The vacuous youth
Of his machismo
And her sensuality.

But this Levi-Strauss concoction
Was nothing but the cowhands’ wear
To muck around in barns and fields,
In all the mires and manure;
And, in all the climes, its toughness a legend,
Its wear and tear needed no consideration.
Akin to tough hide and
Hideous in hue of washed out blue,
The blue jeans was no fashion plate!

Yet, glorified by Calvin Kline
And others of that ilk,
Teens pour their nether limbs
Into the twin pipes of blue denim.
Whether pumice-knocked
Or acid-worn or both-
Frayed with careful care
And not with wear,
Loose-hipped or hip-hugged,
The blue jeans heads the triumphal march
From practicality to glamour-wear,
From rural scene to urban chic-
A fashion nexus and a teen uniform!

All That Glitter

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The khaki-clad guard salaamed
And opened the gleaming doors
Into Aladdin’s cave-
Bangles and bracelets
And rings and earrings
Winked at eager-eyed women
Who sat in red velvet chairs;
Round arms, waiting necks,
And ready fingers tried again
And again the golden wares.
Men, in careful boredom,
Watched the buyers- not
The wives, sisters, and mothers,
But the errant pretty face-
A fair neck here, and a white arm there-
The faces glowed, the jewels shone,
And money rolled in indulgent excess.
Solomon alone can stand
Against a jewelry store’s splendor!

Night Glooms

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Sable-clad, the dread silent night arrived,
Quiet as the full-sated, homing herd;
Dusk crept in gloom cover and cast a pall
O’er faded chimes and dead footfalls in hall.

Heavens loomed in ebon splendor, arching
Above my gloomy bower; lonely and parching
I lay waiting, waiting for slumber’s balm,
On sagging springs, my wayward thoughts to calm.

Solos and pairs paced the squandrons combined,
Unruly hordes, soul’s dark companions, to bind
Fetters on dreams; and hooded thoughts collage
My lone nights and enthrall my peace in cage.

Gentle Paraclete, whisper and dispel
My gloom as day brightens in morning’s spell!

Elephant at My Window

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Someone always comes
To my window, visiting,
Asking for no welcomes,
Yet, all the same questing.

Often, it’s a swallow,
Face always aturning,
Beady eyes to allow
Some impertinent learning.

I have seen a crow
Many times this year,
Eager to fill his craw,
Hungry for a corn-ear.

A squirrel wasn’t shy
To sit upon the sill,
Hurrying teeth to pry
The nutmeat without a spill.

The neighbor’s tabby mewed
In genuine frustration
As the window grill proved
Hard for penetration.

The wand’ring mongrel poked
Through the window grill;
In expectation peeked
Every day like a drill.

But, I never saw an elephant
Stopping at the window;
Yet, I truly did not lament
The tusker’s absent bow.

Until one day, at the window,
Surprised I was to see
The grey mammoth pass below
And, atremble was my knee.

He walked by, though unbound,
Without a touch, a glance or bend,
Without a crunch or sound;
Majestic was his head’s intent!

Now that I’ve seen an elephant
Outside my very window,
I’ve seen all I need or want
And, I’ll stand away, I vow!

Sunset’s Heartaches

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Cattails threw shadows into placid streams
Which gleamed at gloaming;
The swan couples patterned heart throbs,
Beak to beak crooning, floating on wavy waters.
From the west oozed a burnt orange blaze, and
The waning red glow silhouetted life’s moments
In earnest molecules and pallid seconds.
In the midst of the angst at the fag end of day,
Between the demented heavens
And the heart-breaking earth,
The struggling soul gasps in each painful breath!

The Lament of Shah Jehan

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From the shadows I watch through vaulted windows,
My tired thoughts creeping towards the gleaming domes
That mark my love’s rest.
Winter circles my heart that yearns for Mumtaz, my heart, my love!
Alas, my heart lies buried colder under the cold, cold marble
Whose white splendor masks my anguish, my sorrow.
Forlorn I languish, a prisoner in my own Fort—
Once a monarch, I live in the shadowlands
Of memory that flickers and fades.
Spring has vanished from my world and blossoms ceased smiling;
I weep tears that groove my cheeks
And singe and sere my to-days and tomorrows.
Alone I long, alone I yearn, alone I wait
For God’s own time when I will rest along my love
On the banks of Yamuna, under the cold, cold marble!