Lost Along the Way

It takes a carafe of wine
to remember my dreams
that got lost
along the way.
And it takes guts
to look into the crystal ball
to remember.
Dreams that linger
in my memory.
Like mist over a placid lake.

Its called love...

Silence

They are drilling rocks nearby.

That sound, incessant,

it is raping the silence of my soul.

I cannot hide no more from your barbs.

Or your hideous lies.

I am suspended in this limbo,

with my heart in tatters.

You words do not reach me,

nor do your assurances.

Even the drilling seems kinder to the rocks.

Corridors of Lust

Tower of Love

And the story teller always says "and they lived happily ever after" after each fairy tale. Really??!! Who saw that? Was there a 'happily ever after'?

So the shoe fit and Prince Charming got married to Cinderella. And one fine day they realised they were both in their 30s with three brats. Prince Charming was busy with the administration of his kingdom and

Locked up by you in this

tower of love,

I search for you

in my thoughts and in my

dreams, only to be woken up

in colourful nightmares.

Only I see you when I

am awake,

holding hands with

someone else, while

mine are groping for

the key that you have

thrown away.

There are no more stories

right now.

No more words that flow.

No more tears I can

wipe with this stale

handkerchief.

Sita's Walk-2

Sita Janaki, Princess of Mithila, daughter of King Janaka, was the not the easiest to please. Her father, Kin Janaka, was finding it hard to find her a husband, arranges a Swayamvara where a princess can chose her own husband from the assembly of Princes, Warriors, Kings, merchants and learned men. And this time he arranges a contest where each participant will have to string Pinaka, Shiva’s bow and hit a target. When the king informs Sita about the Swayamvara, she has a few words with him.

She looks at him with steel in her eyes

and asks “What do you mean, win

me in marriage father?

Am I a chattel, an object, a prize 

to be won? Look at me, I am,

the daughter of a king,

a Kshatriya who can lift the Pinaka,

Shiva’s bow with one hand!

I am a singer, a dancer,

a princess and a warrior!”

She raises her voice, “Why can’t I follow my heart?

Why this Swayamvar? Who will be this man?

Is he a warrior or a king?

He might be a prince of his land, but will

he be a prince of my heart?”

And she whispers softly and firmly

“Will he be MY equal?”

First rains...

Rain rain rain...the first rains are here...

I am sitting on my terrace and watching thunder clouds. The cool wind is ferocious, trying to wipe out the remnants of summer. I try to imagine what earth must be feeling. Earth, brown, dusty and bone weary and pining for his touch, waits in anticipation; waiting and watching for a lover to come home and quench her thirst. It seems like a thousand years since he has held her in his arms. Longing for his return, she looks often at the lightning and thunder, imagining his footsteps.

And when he comes, he comes home with all the glory of a warrior returning to his beloved. And she, she runs up to him and opens up to his embrace...

This rain...sweet rain,

tastes of you

rolling over my tongue

drenching me

in your embrace.

This rain...sings

warm melodies,

whispers of a forgotten

longing,

in your breathless voice.

This rain...touching,

flowing,

moving into my soul,

making me shiver and sigh.

This rain...dripping

from you to me

folding, enfolding

warmth and wetness.

This rain...dark rain,

ignites memories...

quenches my thirst.

You call it love?

It is quite common in India to conceal our love affairs from our family and friends. And then, when the issue of marriage arises (that too after 'seeing' a few boys and girls), we manage to remember we do have someone we love. This gives rise to a host of family dramas - tears, threats, fasting,  absolute silence, you name it! Have I been through it? No alas no, I had an old fashioned arranged marriage. And guess what, if anything goes wrong, I just look at my folks with the look "See what you have done. Its all your fault". I am getting my revenge for the all the looks I recived from them as a kid. Ha ha ha....

I have also been noticing it is usually the girls who are bold enough to accept and flaunt their love. Is it their faith in their lovers or faith in love itself? Or perhaps, it is hardwired in us, remember Mahabharta? Rukmini took the reins of the chariot and drove Krishna away. So technically, he did not kidnap her, but she eloped with him... I think I will go with this argument. So you see, Indian women will always be bold and gutsy to accept their love. I just wish the guys were too.

Searching for Salvation

Call of the Eagle...

Some sights/images have a hold the power to create a hold on us. They evoke a host of emotions and perhaps remain with us forever, stuck in our minds, sometimes forgotten and often recollected. Sometimes in happy situations and sometimes in nightmares which leave us drenched in sweat, screaming in silent screams.
And there are some that will touch a chord with the artist in all of us. Last month my friend Nivedita Aluri uploaded photographs of the Yellowstone National Park. One of them happens to be a lonely eagle flying across the road with tall pines on either side. Somehow this image remained in my mind and it took nearly a month to complete this poem.