Thursday, 24 March 2011


Life goes on like a prancing stream
When I wake up from my dreams
I shall feel the rugged stones
The jagged ends
The uneven tones
Till then let the ripples dance
The dreams waltz
The stream prance


I am alone
Once again
With my thoughts

I am alone
Once again
In the rain

I am alone
Once again
In the shade

As the rain pelts
I take shelter
Under the shade
Of a friendly tree
Laden with fruits
Leaves and branches
Chirping birds
Humming bees
Blooming buds
Petal hugs
Pouring thoughts
I am alone
Once again


I have lately got into this very bad habit of scribbling - as soon as I can snatch a piece of paper, be it the corner of a yellowing packet, old/current newspaper, screwed up paper balls (which I straighten out with great care), dog-eared slice of a page, in short, anything and everything, which falls within the category of papyrus, my pen goes crawling all over it and lovingly so.

Lately, I have also found a fascination for haikus, though my mentors tell me I got them all wrong when I try to create one and that I should get some help in the form of workshops,, tutelage under Kalaji, the well known internationally acclaimed haiku poetess etc. etc. But stubborn attempts as you may call it, I refuse to take the good and sane advices extended and keep on scratching on virgin lands scripting thoughts which even if go un-etched, will not bother the world at all.

So, coming to haikus – mine are never what they are intended to be. At best these may be called “shykus” as I shy away from conventions guarding this unique form of poetry or “trykus” as they follow the hit and trial route. One of my net friends coined her own fiasco as “mykus”. Borrowing the nuance from her kitty, I write on. Given below are some of my pet disasters. It depends on the reader’s imagination to fathom what they actually are and under what caption these may be placed:

Jotting down chores
A day’s too short

For old age
Dwindling assets

Lost my way
Turning around
Bump into a dead end

Reposes serenely on
A sheaf blank
A page mark

I scribble
Scampers past
A squirrel

A few drops of rain
My Elovera
Is green again

A few drops of sun
Blooming lilies
So much fun

An old film song
Waft in air
Memories fond

A few stars
Dancing in the pond
Glimpses from the road beyond

At this bend
A cluster of thoughts
On strained end

Crumpled in a purse
Old and yellow
A forlorn snapshot


Hurt myself
Right knee, wrist in braces
Tapping the keyboard
Painful, takes time
Red gashes, blue black bruises
Burn in the night

As I look up
Cobwebs meet the eyes
Prismatic in the sunshine
Unwashed piles
Heaped in the tub
Study desk littered
With papers unclasped
Bills to be paid
Letters to be replied
E-mails to be sent
Notes to be filed
Unfinished readings
A few DVDs bought
Still not watched
Kitchen unclean
Sink’s overflowing
Dirty dishes, cups ‘n pans
Leaves in the garden sag
Yellowing at the borders
Laze in one corner,
Pet yelps throughout the night
Worms most probably
Gonna see the vet
Some day, alright
Warm clothes dumped
On the bed
Summer clothes stacked in
Unpacked not yet
Phone from the bank
“Can’t come,” I said
Cupboards in a mess
So is life…..

So much to worry
No time in hand
Doctor’s prescribed
One week’s rest

Wednesday, 23 March 2011


Waiting for summer
The frozen, gray mist
Wither in bloom

Thursday, 17 March 2011


Why is it that my hands stretch out
readily to uncork the jar
of cheese lings, while the depressive
oranges groan in the cane basket ?

Why is it that Chicken Butter Masala
leaves me salivating for more
While the salads sulk in one
sad corner of the lunch plate ?

Why is it that a dream full snooze
attracts my leisure hours
more than an early morning stroll
on the grass bordering the pavements ?

Why is it that a steep climb up the steps
Is resisted and the love for the
snaking escalator in the mall and the metro
grow more and more by the day ?

I have a sweet tooth for long
which I cannot give up
An insatiable cola thirst
which I don't want to renounce

A hot bland soup is good
if accompanied by crispy sizzlers
A glass of cold fruit juice
is just my kind of appetizer

My sister keeps hinting at a
personal trainer while my
doctor the other day reiterated
"Madam! you know you must do
something about your weight"
"Oh! let me live life to the Leese
doc!" In response I said


The shepherd boy lives by a happy stream
Jumping over a pebbled path without a break
As the sage like mountains watch with a scowl
A few huts sleep by the dancing waves
A gay flute fills the afternoon sky
Crooning a tale to the grazing sheep
As the fire dies down behind the peaks
The boy returns home with his gay herd
To have a frugal meal and retire to bed
At night when he tosses and turns on his sides
The guns roar a lullaby on the other end
Listening to the drumming drone every night
The boy peacefully goes off to sleep

The other night was unusually calm
The stars shone cheerfully bright
The moon beamed like a crystal maze
And the guns bellowed not
A single song throughout the night

The boy next day was late
To his work
Not a wink did he sleep
The previous night


She sang spring while I saw winter in the shadows of her eyes
I stooped low to croon into her ears “Everything’s gonna be fine, y’know”
Her cheeks glowed while bad breath fanned my face
She and the bedspread looked alike
Puritan, sparse, clinical the room with heavy drapes
Sculpted shadows while hopes fled to a distant land
The doctor with the bald head and a grey sprinkle of a moustache
Shook his head gravely and said, “Call her friends and relatives, if you may,
Cancer, you know, it is the last stage.”

How do I tell the doc her spirit is still wild?
The Bohemian nights, the party prowls?
The mornings with the endless cups of steaming black coffee?

I let the mobile ring before I mouthed a “Hullo”
It was difficult to tell
How do you describe hell?
What address do you write?
When the soul says au Revoire
It’s all over now……..

The nurse with the dark brown eyes
Said soothingly,” It’s been a bad night
Why don’t you go down and have a cup of tea?”
My legs strained.

In the canteen on the ground floor
Somebody had thoughtfully left
The morning news paper on the table
As I sipped a tasteless cup
My eyes went involuntarily to the headlines
‘The Government proudly announces
The setting up of a new Nuclear Power Plant
On some remote soil………”

I remembered her Chemo sessions
And putting my head down
Onto the crook of my arm
Resting on the dirty table
I wept like a child……….


He mirrors a mask

A profile camouflaged

Anonymous he prowls

A hiss, a venomous spit

You know he is around

A ruinous mind, a callous tongue

Dubious descendants

Around he hangs

Suave, svelte, smooth as silk

Till he belches fire and gore

An abuse, slang, blame, a barb

Prickly thorns, thistles sharp

I meet him often

On my poems and tales

So do others

As he snakes and slithers

My soul sis tasted the poison and said

“Oh don’t bother! He’s a troll”

I shook my head and said,

“No! I think he’s just a troubled soul”

Sunday, 6 March 2011


मुझे प्यास थी इतनी
की सूरज निगल गई
अब राख के ढेर पर
लहू आग बरसाता है

मैं तपिश मैं माचिस
खून में क़त्ल हो गई
अब रूह देह खोजता
पूरी रात जगाता ही

In my wandering thirst
I gulped down the sun
I trip on the ashes now
As blood oozes fire

Ember am I and also the flame
Wandering in dirty, soiled veins
An aimless soul seeking a home
Stalks a body through sleepless nights