Monday, November 23, 2009

weary me...

Some days are too weary for all of us... wanting that long dreamed break!!!

Monday, October 26, 2009

I'm alive...

Some times back i wrote the below mentioned poem .........same day by chance clicked this picture too from my mobile camera . The result was this collage :))

oops..i can't put it (as to make it i used powerpoint format, which is not recognised by the blogspot) ...so i'm just leaving with the two pics and the poetry!

Sunday, October 25, 2009

I Am Alive!

Fear, old as heart-beat,
Old news for me. For,
Destruction shadows creation!
New beginnings start,
A journey of Pain.

Everytime, boundaries are re-drawn,
A merged self is torn.
leaving a gaping hole-
Dark and Empty!
Taking ages to sew.

Stitches... sore and visible.
Leaving a weathered soul,
With patches, like a poor man's quilt.

Vulnerability,
Still, is sacred.
As conception of Unborn,
As cosmos, As being alive.

Blades of grasses, wild flowers,
Breakthrough, inspite of rocks...
reach clouds,
Another morning!

















Saturday, October 10, 2009

Trust

Was reading something about Maya Angelou (the famous feminist poet) and found this ....

Maya's older brother, Bailey, provides an unconditional love that creates in Maya a more balanced, healthy spirituality. Bailey is Maya's companion and supporter.

Maya writes: “Of all the needs…a lonely child has, the one that must be satisfied if there is going to be hope and a hope of wholeness is the unshaking need for an unshakable God. My pretty Black brother was my Kingdom Come.”
(from- I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1969) a powerful, inspirational childhood autobiography by her).

After this, do I need to say anything!

(PS: I'm in her home state now and appreciate it all in a better way).

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Sharing self!!

Some people
Tear themselves
Into multiple, large
Pieces
To share themselves,
Generously

Some do it neatly,
A hot knife passing through
Butter,
Cutting a thin slice,
Give healthy little
And keep the rest.

Some have
gift of multiple selves,
One for each, they touch
Lightly on shoulders.
Hold hands sensibly,
(with sustainable, recycled love-lines)
And still keep it
Nice, neat and thin!


Sunday, July 19, 2009

Death & Dying...

I was doing a study related to death and kids......when I found some quotes which i really liked. While this topic seems morbid to many... for some others it has a deeper meaning....to each one their own preferred comfort level ...as per their individual growth journeys...
well moving on to my quotes! some of them are touching, insightful, poignant or even downright funny...
one i remember ..(but forgot the author..sorry).. 'million crave for immortality, those who do not know what to do on a rainy sunday afternoon!
Rest is here.....

"Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blending and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is sting-less indeed, and as beautiful as life."

"Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone lives". -A. Sach

"Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other".- Francis Bacon

"Even very young children need to be informed about dying. Explain the concept of death very carefully to your child. This will make threatening him with it much more effective." - P. J. O'Rourke

Don't strew me with roses after I'm dead.
When Death claims the light of my brow
No flowers of life will cheer me:instead
You may give me my roses now! --Thomas F. Healey

A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a joke or worried to death by a frown on the right person's brow. - Charles Brower

Death is a graduation. When we’re taught all the things we came to teach, learned all the things we came to learn, then we’re allowed to graduate.~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

I have lost friends, some by death--others by sheer inability to cross the street. ~ Virginia Woolf

A civilization that denies death ends by denying life. ~ Octavio Paz

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.~ Norman Cousins

When I die I'm going to dance first in all the galaxies... I'm gonna play and dance and sing. ~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

For three days after death, hair and fingernails continue to grow but phone calls taper off.~ Johnny Carson

Death is not extinguishing the light; it is putting out the lamp because dawn has come. - Rabindranath Tagore

And my all time favourite is ........

Every time a child says "I don't believe in fairies," there is a little fairy somewhere that falls down dead.- - James Matthew Barrie

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Trees and Fairies!

I'm on a high today, for I planted few flowering trees... few fragrant 'Kaner', another tree with yellow flowers (which resembles a bunch of bees), and two of my (and everyones) favourite 'Gulmohar'.
Hmm any one knowing me might dismiss it as my usual eco-friendliness, but but but ...i suspect something deeper there. Digging it further and i find myself dreaming .....
of fairies dancing under the canopy of flowers, on nights full of twinkling stars ..oh such a joy!

Well, another part of me knows something about it is true... for these trees are inside a home full of charming growing up women... some call it hostel!! So, there is no dearth of fairies ...

One might lie down underneath upon a bed of spread red gulmohar, another might pick few kaner and put them behind their ears, in their hair, touch the leaves, hug the plant ...

Some day when it rain someone might observe the dripping drops of water from those fragile gulmohar leaves... some day when one is upset with a loved one, instead of staring in the blank they might go on to stare the blooming buds and chirping birds and running squirrels, may be when they move they will be smiling again.

The security guard on duty with a creative streak, might take few flowers to decorate the entrance and ... may be someday someone might also pluck few flowers for offering on her altar 'to some, to one' Goddesses /God...

And I believe if the tree actually survives all storms and lawn mowers, it will be an offering from the earth to the sky, an offering to the sacredness of the existence... may be I too would share a bit of this offering ... If they grow up and bloom!
Amen!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Silence- two moods!

1)
Silence Between Us
Some days silences between us
seems so soft and warm...
a comfort of known
as an old blanket in winters
which enwraps me with out suffocating.
It doesn't have the sharp edges
of a broken mirror.
It fills the space around,
without intruding into my existence
into my body.
Fulfills the needs of skin
like an intimate caress,
like a smell one like very much.
sometimes the silence between us...

2)
Silence Around Me

Some days,
Silence around me
Cuts and bruises,
Like icicles.
Some days it makes me
breathless, with
Heavy mist and smoke.
It enwraps me and I can not
see you, call out your name
My periphery, my senses
Go numb
Inside, something still burns,
But
Dies slowly.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

When You Come- Maya Angelou

When You Come

When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.

Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,

I CRY.

Apology of a Strong Woman!

Do not think
I am too proud,
And too strong,
And too dry,
To ever cry.
Oh, you, for sure
Are mistaken,
That I do not weep.
I do, As Jesus did.
But only after
The corpse is cremated.
The visitors well fed,
Have left.
Only when,
The house is silent,
Empty and clean again.
I weep, alone.
For all the deaths
within and with-out.
Of innocence and smiles,
Of playful giggles and pure images,
Of fake loves and real losses
Of things near and far away.
And offer it to
Gods above,
as my true earning
My true offering.

Monday, May 18, 2009

I am not that woman (by- Kishwar Naheed

I am not that woman
Selling you socks and shoes!
Remember me, I am the one you hid
In your walls of stone, while you roamed
Free as the breeze, not knowing
That my voice cannot be smothered by stones

I am the one you crushed
With the weight of custom and traditions
Not knowing
That light cannot be hidden in darkness
Remember me,
I am the one in whose lap
You picked flowers
And planted thorns and embers
Not knowing
That chains cannot smother my fragrance.

I am the woman
Whom you bought and sold
In the name of my own Chastity
Not knowing
That i can walk on water
When i am drowning

I am the one you married off
To get rid of a burden
Not knowing
That a nation of captive minds
Can not be free.

I am the commodity you traded in
My chastity, my motherhood, my loyalty.
Now it is time for me to flower free
The woman on that poster,
Half naked, selling socks and shoes-
No no, I am not that woman!

A Poem dedicated to Mother Kali- God of death, time and transformation


Death is a woman (by....Ulrike Gerbig)

In the face without masks

Death is a woman

In the moment you know yourself

Death is a woman

At the end of all questions

Death is a woman

As the well of all answers

Death is a woman

At the end of all regrets

Death is a woman

In the liberation through tears

Death is a woman

As the relief from battle

Death is a woman

In the loving embrace

Death is a woman

As the end of all pain

Death is a woman

As the return to the source

Death is a woman

In the dreamless sleep

Death is a woman

In the endless peace

Death is a woman.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY ...befitting so many of us!

Wow! absolutely loved this one ... :)

seems an autobiography of all humans... but.... in second thought... even if we think it is US, its not!

Humans have un-imaginable ability to find or dig new holes to fall... even after changing the road!... And so much apt are the three new chapters added today by a friend!


AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS (by Portia Nelson)

I
I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I fall in.

I am lost ... I am helpless.

It isn't my fault.

It takes me forever to find a way out.


II
I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it.

I fall in again.

I can't believe I am in the same place

but, it isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.


III
I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in ... it's a habit.

my eyes are open

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.


IV
I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.


V
I walk down another street.

--------------------------------------------

Well...here comes the post script... as a friend wrote...

VI
I walk down that another street.

I miss the deep hole

So I dig one and fall in

I know where I am.

I get out immediately.

VII
I walk down that another street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I dug it.

I fall in.

I know where I am.

I sit there.

I feel lonely.

I get out immediately.

VIII

I walk down that another street.

I see the deep hole in the sidewalk

I make it bigger.

I fall in.

And still there’s space.

I sit there waiting.

She falls in.

I am not lonely.

We sit there.

Monday, May 4, 2009

The Invitation (by Oviah Mountain Dreamer)

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk
looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched
the center of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of pain!
I want to know if you can sit with pain,
mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it,
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy,
mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic,
to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another
to be true to yourself,
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul,
if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty
even when it's not pretty, every day,
and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure,
yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up,
after a night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone,
and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire
with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what
or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you, from the inside,
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Peaceful Warrior Vs. Slumdog Millionaire

It seems i am turning into movie reviewer going by my recent posts! Well, in last two days i happened to watch two movie, 'Peaceful Warrior' and 'Slumdog millionaire' as a break from my never ending work. And this post comes with annoyed criticality... if u don't like it please move on to another blog.
While i was not so keen on SM still i went ahead and ..regretted. The way 'Mitr-My friend' was a movie with a woman's eye, SM was clearly a movie with a western eye, spiced with lots of factual errors and manipulated details. When they talk about 'real India', they seem to have 'sampling error', full of exploitative, unjust characters & events. Its not all like that, at least not in small town poor suburbs...i know first hand. On one hand, in the entire movie they almost never found an Indian who is not out to manipulate others... (utterly morbid!), on the other hand there is a western tourist who doesn't let a chance go by, to market America's generosity by giving 100 bucks and saying 'this is real America my son!'. (I found the following real comment on some blog.. "It WAS a great movie... I knew even less about it when I went... Kind of removed my desire to visit India, though. Yipes! ...One of the girls in our church youth group said it increased her desire to visit India "to help solve those problems!") Expect another batch coming to find meaning out of their own lives, by helping victims in far off lands ... Ha!! (sorry, i might be over critical and may be getting unfair too, about some good intentions!) Still, here I am tempted to agree a bit with Francois Gautier's bashing of this movie.
I think that might be one major reason why all my Indian friends felt the movie is mediocre/ average, while my western friends felt its good!
I am reminded of a movie which I would prefer more, on similar issues (if not exactly same)... 'Welcome to Sajjanpur' by Shyam Benegal (if I'm correct). Loved it for its warm depiction of rural India with poverty, politics, relationships, innocence and never-die spirit. Well, if u wanna watch slums & shit for voyeuristic pleasures, even 'Aamir' movie will do.

Oscars are really no tag for a movie's real standards. While I do not watch too many western movies, or too many movies for that matter, I really liked another Oscar awarded 'Other People's Lives'.
On the other hand, Peaceful Warrior is worth repeat watching... i have been going back to some pieces of it, just to get that elevating sense of what all is beautiful and possible in human lives... It takes one to a completely different realm and also has an Asian/ Buddhist Philosophy as the basis. Its inspired by true story of a n American gymnast... and its one movie you won't find real parallels in Indian film industry.
Find it and watch it!

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Dev D- Part 2:)

Recently I wrote a post about this movie, before watching it... now I'm here after...

Over all a nicely made movie with heart at the right place.. does it reflect u r heart Mr. Director!! picked up the right issues in right tones- alcohol, drugs, conduct disorder (wink;) drunk driving... but, but... the most important one is relationships, emotional abuse, female sexuality and society's attitude towards it!
Movie also had few glorious moments of human bond in man-woman relationships. But very few, very real??
It raised many questions and thoughts in my mind.. I was wondering if Hindi movies will ever be as ready to redeem their wayward heroines (not the cute pocket-maar kind), if there are any... as they are generous to their heroes? Was all the good luck distributed to their heroes ...no matter how rude and hurting and rejecting their behavior in past... the lady love will still come and wash their clothes and clean their dirty room and go back home crying!
At least, the director raised himself in my eyes by raising the standard of the hero, by bestowing upon him the ability to introspect and confess that he never loved any one beyond himself.. and ya he is a 'slut' (the abuse he easily threw upon the lady earlier!!).
Reminds me of the storm in beer mugs of Mangalore, the claiming and reclaiming cake pieces of Indian culture by different groups, pink chaddis and pink saris and many more things.

But the red hot ideological choice on this issue was offered to me by a friend who happens to be an American. Compared to French, Americans are prudish but compared to Americans, Indians are! He waived his mobile in front of my eyes and said not only Indian women but also Indian men are sexually repressed. 'My Indian male friends carry pornography in their mobiles, I don't!'
Who would YOU prefer, someone who can talk about sex and still have it in the periphery of their mind and life or someone who carry porn in their mobile!!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Ambivalence!

While reading some interesting stuff.. i came across the ambivalence of the heart. Its there every where.. the ambivalent Arjuna in the battle field... or Jane Austin's Emma talking of ambivalence in the game of courtship... While the mind makes a decision and takes steps to go ahead..the fears hold back. The heights of ambivalence is of agnostics... they haven't yet made up their mind.. if God exists ..Or She/He/It doesn't!!
Hmm.. this brings me to some poetry... one very popular old time hindi song... I'm trying my translation skills... u have to guess the original:))
Game??!!

You may
Or may not
But
I'm sure
I love
You, not.

But this mystery
i haven't fathomed
Why I find
your talk sweet
Why I search for
reasons To meet.
Sometimes I wished
To touch you and see,
sometimes i wished
to bring you closer.

But, still..
You may
Or may not
But
I'm sure
I love
You, not.

Still,
When you stay
Away from me
Shadows of sadness
Lie on my heart
Some dream peep through
High rise buildings,
Some dream with bowed head
Stay seated
Sometimes darkness spread
On the paths of heart
sometimes it lightens up
Far and wide..

But, still..
You may
Or may not
But
I'm sure
I love
You, not.

(Have you got it??:)

Friday, February 6, 2009

Dev D

Today apparently the new movie Dev D is released!.. hmmm...Based on the classic theme of 'Devdas', the novel.
Well i have read the original novel and watched one of the old movie version (Dilip Kumar era), while missed the seemingly too melodramatic jewel studded SRK one.

Devdas has become almost an icon of pining male lover, who destroys his whole life for the lady love. But I have always felt its a story of a spineless lover, who wants everything easy and is completely confused, till it is too late. Still they go on to become icons of youth in love!! Ah something seriously wrong with our youth. Look around and you may not miss a few of those kind around.. Even u may find this population amongst those who are way past their 'youth' cronologically:)

Infact I have often wondered the similarity of this theme, in almost 100yrs old 'Devdas' novel by Sharat Da and an almost 50 yrs old similarly famous hindi novel 'Gunahon ka Devta' by Dharmavir Bharti. Well, how much of the personal life or attitudes of both the authors have seeped into their respective novels is to be guessed or assessed from the biographical or autobiographical narratives of which I do know some bits and pieces from reading and hearsay.

Ah, its a welcome change in the world of Hindi audio-visual entertainment, to show the courage to break free from the boundaries, from cliches and from usual interpretations..... Bravo Anurag Kashyap, from what I read, u got to have lot of mind!

And for those who believe in Devdas/ Chander as an icon of love/ a role model...take a break and do some soul-searching! .. Good luck guys.. Ah even Gals!!

Thanks to the Unknown Poet!

be near me when the light is low
when the blood creeps ,and the nerves prick
and the tingle,the heart is sick
and all the wheels r slow
be near to me
when my faith is dry
and men the flies
of latter spring
that lay their eggs,and sting and sir
and weave their petty cells and die
....
be near to me
when i fade away
to point the term of human strife
and the low dark verge of life
the twilight of eternal day

In Defense of Human Growth!

Unlimited possibilities of my existence

But crossing first limit, and every limit later

Brings the pain of body, mind and that of

My smallness.

I want to stretch my neck

Take a glance

Look again at the world

From one more perspective

Than what I was taught to believe.

Look what my eyes can't see

but my mind can.

And never to choose to throw an idea

Out of the window

And sleep calmly,

Believing what we don't see

Doesn't exist!

Finding her Here

This is a lovely poem dedicated to all growing up women... (mailed to me by a friend...The unknown author would be a women, as Virginia woolf once said:)

I am becoming the woman I wanted
Grey at the temples,
Soft body, delighted,
Cracked up by life
With a laugh that’s known bitter
But, past it, got better,
Knows she’s a survivor—
That whatever comes,
She can outlast it.
I am becoming a deep
Weathered basket.

I am becoming the woman I’ve longed for,
The motherly lover
With arms strong and tender,
The growing up daughter
Who blushes surprises.
I am becoming full moons and sunrises

I find her becoming
This woman I’ve wanted,
Who knows she’ll encompass,
Who knows she’s sufficient,
Knows where she’s going.
Who remembers she’s precious,
But knows she’s not scarce—
Who knows she’s plenty
Plenty to share

A poem from Mahadevi Verma

My disillusionment at this moment is of the kind which happens when reality meets the dreams. But then when river of dreams meets ocean of life I expect some beautiful land forms to emerge, fertile and life giving!
Today, I have been reading randomly some old quotes from my diary which i opened in search of passages from my one of favourite books, Revolution from within! (Gloria Steinheim). But found few other things which I feel like typing here. Sometimes writing each word which has moved you or typing it all out is quite therapeutic:)
This one is from Mahadevi Verma

कह दे माँ अब क्या देखूँ

देखूं खिलती कलियाँ या प्यासे सूखे अधरों को
तेरी चिर योवन सुषमा या जर्जर जीवन को देखूं?

देखूं हिम हीरक हँसते हिलते नीले कमलों पर
या मुरझाई पलकों से झरते आँसू कण देखूं?

सौरभ पी पीकर बता देखूं यह मंद समीरण
दुःख की घूटे पीती या ठंडी सांसों को देखूं?

तुझमे अमलानं हँसी है इसमें अज्रस आँसू जल
तेरा वैभव देखूं या जीवन का क्रंदन देखूं?

I Witness!!

It is a warm feeling, to have a few old friends who have stayed back with you and who knows things about you, over the passing years in this fast paced world. I'm lucky in this respect. Few days back, an old good friend reminded me of an old poem of mine, through one of his comments on my earlier blog.

I still remember that day of my growing up years, when a sudden look into the mirror made me yearn for a witness to my life. And this poem (another of my first) was born to express this feeling. Having such accepting, non-judgemental witnesses to life, nurtures us... And I think this brings me into my profession... to offer it to others. But we may not be able to remain so at all moments of life!!

प्रिय,
तुम आओ,
ये मेरा नेह निमंत्रण है
तुम आना
और मेरे जीवन नाट्य में
उस द्रष्टा की तरह रहना
जो मेरे किरदार की अहमियत समझता हो

प्रिय
मुझे अपनी तालियों की
अनुगूंजों से
तुम विस्तार देना

अपनी संवेदना को मुझे प्रेषित करना
कभी अपने मौन से
तो कभी अपनी आंखों में छुपे उन भावों से
जिनका मुझे इंतज़ार है

परदों के उठने गिरने के बीच
चाहे मेरी भूमिका को अस्वीकार करो
पर खुले मन मस्तिष्क से
तुम मुझे स्वीकार करना

अगर तुम्हें पता है
पीडा क्या होती है
तो मध्यांतर में चले न जाना
अन्यथा संभव है
मेरी अंत तक खोजती निगाहों में
इंतज़ार कोई पढ़ ले

तुम,
तब भी रहना
जब सब जा चुके हों
तुम्हारे शब्द मुझे देंगे
एक नयी जीवन्तता

और तब,
उन खाली, उतरते गलियारे में
मैं तुमसे कह सकूंगी
तुम मेरी भूमिका हो
और शायद तुम्ही
सूत्रधार!

Two lovely poems dedicated to Memories

1) A movingly beautiful piece by Gulzar (Rain) :

Beyond the closed panes,
past the windows,
it keeps raining, on the green trees
on the thick branches,
on the frail flowers,
endlessly, silently
like your memory
which keeps raining,
beyond voices, faces and
activity around,
at the back of my mind
endlessly, silently.



2) A wisdom filled piece by Karnad in 'Hayavadana'

you cannot engrave on water
nor wound it with a knife
which is why
the river has no fear
of memories...
...sings, tosses, leaps and sweeps on in a rush...
While the scarecrow on
the bank has a face
fading on its mud pot head
and a body
torn with
memories.

Today!

Today...
I wanted to touch your words
With my fingers..
Feel it with closed eyes..
Kiss it, and then keep it on my palms
To let it fly...
But before that
I want to hold them and hug them
Feel the warmth of your words...
It will make me alive...
every moment of today!

Silence between Us

Some days silences between us
seems so soft and warm...
a comfort of known
as an old blanket in winters
which enwraps me with out suffocating.
It doesn't have the sharp edges
of a broken mirror.
It fills the space around,
without intruding into my existence
into my body.
Fulfills the needs of skin
like an intimate caress,
like a smell one like very much.
sometimes the silence between us...

After A While

After A While- by Veronica A. Shoffstall
(one of my favourite poems)

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn...

Me

Few years back a friend gave me the book 'Hundred Years of Solitude' to read and some how the after effect was a deep despair. I do not remember what led to it but do remember, that evening when I completed the book I wrote 5 poems which all had that sense of despair. I'm writing here the one which seemed to have it less.

I am,
since time was not,
And universe unconceived.
This solitude-
An infinite spread of me.
Universe-
Born out of me.
Leaves and grasses-
more of me.
Time created,
The circle moves
Into another circle,
Into endlessness.

Still,
In every creation
I'm all alone
Again.
The fog deeper,
Impenetrable.

Difference

I learned from you,
the difference between
jungle fire or hail storm
and
winter sun
lukewarm water
shadows in summer
body's own warmth
or simmering heat in
one's kitchen

difference of death
and life
of you and me
of being and becoming
difference between
your footprints
which goes away
and my body
which stands there
holding my soul.

Seperation

The overwhelming
joy of separation
to test my resilience
and your faith,
The little happenings
unfolded,
all mine.
the surprises of
home coming
and a life of fire walk
all mine.

Damp Memory!

Sitting in a damp room
amidst everydayness
I suddenly taste
the salty breeze
and touch of your lips
on my face.
I find an expanse
in my mindscape
I miss someone
by an arm's length
and know
you have thought of me
today, just now.