During my visit to Paro, Bhutan...

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Amidst the chants of Buddhist monks,
and the hesitant murmurs of the flowing river,
I heard the silence of GOD..
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Scrawls of an unsteady hand...
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Two lines of attempted poetry...
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Sunbeams reach their destined end
Casting shadows of their death.
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The carpet of grass beckons your feet
Ever willing to be crushed at your whims
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The waves rush to the calling of Mother earth
The heartless rocks deny their reunion
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Man builds structures to reach the sky
The sky evades man's ugly hands.
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Shyness curled her toes,
Love stretched her arms.
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A feather floated to her destiny,
A rock fell to its end.
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Dark clouds in a coterie,
Decided to shroud the moon.
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The blind see the music
The deaf hear the music
It is you and I, who see nor hear
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His voice booms in thunder
His caress felt in breeze
His anger felt in wind's fury
His tears felt in rain drops
He lives.
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Time has no end,
It lives in my memories of you.
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Yesterday... Today...
Life - an endless path, yesterday
Life - a dead alley, today
Love - the answer, yesterday
Love - the question, today
Dreams - the hope, yesterday
Dreams - the escape, today
Tears - the relief, yesterday
Tears - today
We - yesterday
I - today

She and He...


She walks the path destined,
Evening parties where celebrities dined,
Jewels, feather beds and rich silks with lace
A beach house, a summer home and a palace
And yet for him, she pined.

He - an artist with just brushes in his pockets,
Who slept by roadside pickets,
With clothes that were stained with paint
And the sully poverty's taint
Yet, her memories never grew faint.

I compelled my pen to write,
I compelled it to fight,
You are mightier than the sword,I swore
Dark crimes, sad truths, yellow lies,and child labour
Hunger pangs, unheard screams, the bloody war and gore
Condemn them with a single stroke

Hesitating, it replied...
I can speak of truth and condemn lies
I can spit words of fire and ice
But when the world cares not to listen to its own woe
And with all ado, it does Satan woo
The sword seems might'ier than the word!

Tramp!

At bliss, he lies sprawled on the side of a busy road...
Mangled hair, dirty clothes; neither food nor board...
Not a possession to call his own, and yet he feels no rancour!
Yesterday's last penny drowned in country liquor
All he needs- a few shillings to ward away death from hunger,
Is he wiser than you and me?
No desire, No ire, No anger...
No pangs of regret on what could have been...
No words to say to the world, cruel and mean ...
No soul to call his own, No dream he owns ...
He lives today and as for tomorrow, he disowns..
He just lets life be!
Is he happier than you and me?
Do answer me!

Being his wife...
The golden beam escaped through the heavy curtains.
The tiny glimmer dispelled the morning blues.
The windows spoke tales of yesterday's rains.
The hint of his familiar, rythmic breath .
The perfect morning with all its hues.

The unspent anger,the travails of my arduous life,
The tear that always hid at the corner of my eye,
The mistakes of my careless youth with all its strife,
All erased with a single masterstroke of his love.
Makes me live again, Being his wife...

The emptiness of being...

In the well, the bored toad...
The light from above just lights up the well.
The promise of ignorance delivers.
Enlightenment hides in dark silence .

The donkey relentlessly carries its load..
The empty soul feels heavy.
Bedraggled feet, tired of dragging the soul.
The path to the dark ages is well-lit.

The Ostrich

The bars of the window part me from the world outside.
The ugly world at my doorstep.
While the mighty succumb to power,
The poor succumb to hunger.
I am the Ostrich that buries its head in the sand,
hiding in my cozy cocoon.
I see it and yet pretend not to see
I ignore the world that peeps into my window.
To me, the window is a looking glass
and the world, my image of my beautiful self.

Winding paths that lead nowhere,
Eyes closed, Eyes open, the vision remains the same
Sundry days and Tired Nights
Dawn - an angry alarm clock
The desire of an endless snooze
loses to the routine of a mundane morn.