Lost

Where is that river

that flew swift, unfettered

in a stream of crystal eternally

towards the ocean's infinity?

Where is that song

that rang clear, unabashed

clad in naked innocence

setting flight to notes of truth?

Where have I come

in my own countless journeys

that my bare feet

are stranger to their beloved land?

Worship

A thousand times I wet my head

with water from the holy rivers.

My silken robes ply softly

folds of purity tucked in my body.

With steady hands I draw

your sacred marks of graveyard ash.

The lamp glows calm

A golden drop, the conscious' shine

Your fragrance swells and overflows

as my breathing slows of its own will.

I chant the chants with utmost care

wincing at every word that comes imperfect.

The water flows unburdened

nectar it is, nectar flows.

And yet my Father...

Sans effort that yellow flower

has reached your feet already.

Orphaned Words

I pray to you my love;

Free these orphaned words of mine.

They come to your world,

innocent and blind

with no hand to hold.

Protect them, my Goddess;

From the viles of reason.

Let them not pursue ideals,

truths and praise,

for their weak feet will tire soon.

Bind them not, my Goddess;

In harsh fetters of grammar.

Let them not be stifled with craft,

genius and order,

for they have no discipline.

Free them, my Love;

Set them on a song, light and gentle.

Let them play in the sand,

dust and the streets,

for they can amount to nothing more.

Bless them, my Love;

So that they may sing

of your dark face like the mango leaf

your smile like the jasmine

for that will be their salvation.

Let them go no further My Love,

but just sing of you,

your home by the river under the mango tree

Of evenings, gilded sunsets,

of birds returning home

then...

fade gently into your night.

The peacock and the dragon

The mountains of the Madhmadh ranges stretched like a giant yawn across the sleepy plains beneath. Far in the distance, the peak of Soma rose like a sated sigh, capped with alabaster snow. That very same sigh echoed in the emerald green peak of Manas, shimmering with the dew on the leaves of its jungles.

Nestled secretly between the folds of these two peaks lay the ever drenched valley of Anga. The monsoon ravished this valley forever, leaving it cloaked in soft ruby red moss. Jasmine creepers entwined the sturdy unyielding trunks of trees, yielding forth virgin buds that eagerly professed their passion to the breeze with an effulgent fragrance.

Charmed by this enchantment of lust and desire, beasts and birds from far off lands gravitated to this valley and filled it with sounds.

The monkey drunk with the sweetness of the mango that he plundered jumped from branch to branch his crimson bottom flashing like wounds on the trees. The blue-throated koel sang with abandon entreating the waterfall with plaintive cries. Serpents entwined on the soft moss, setting the foliage aflame with their passion. The uncouth honeybee incessantly buzzed around in mad circles around the mango blossoms, infuriating the silent lizards who hissed menacingly. The eager rabbits chased each other in frenzied pursuit startling the grasshoppers.

One monsoon when the clouds hung low kissing the fluttering leaves of the tress, there came a peacock hatched out of its egg. It shivered at the first touch of the cold breeze shedding sapphire gems on the emerald moss. It blinked as a lightning tore the sky. A sudden unsaid desire welled in its heart as the thunder of the skies heralded the arrival of the debauched rains. It cried a hoarse utterance and spread its emerald-azure plumage. Its body shimmered with the youth of innocence. Every feather in its plumage bore a thirsty eye that was unsullied with any sight. It stood there for an instant pure in soul, young at heart and supple in form. Its curves slid of its body with the celerity of warm blood. This warmth and life made it dance around slowly.

As it turned round and round, its thousand feathered eyes drank more and more of the valley's frolic. And every sight, every sound sent a shiver down its spine, that gathered as tiny sliver in its crown. The crown soon curved sensuously as a question. Its head now bending and aching with the wait of the question, the peacock ran eager to find an answer.

It rushed to the coiled serpents with its crown drooping and its tail unfurled. The serpents however, were lost in the heat of their desire, merely replied in fumes of hisses and sighs. The peacock walked on confused.

The impassioned monkey screeched and shouted seeing the golden curve of the peacock's crown. It jumped from the higher branches to the lower ones and eagerly thrust its hands to pluck that jewel. The peacock afraid ran away.

In fright, the peacock ran into the mango grove. The buzzing bees all now gathered in raw hunger circling the luminous crown of the peacock muttering to each other in abrupt hisses. The lizards disgusted with this excessive show of passion slithered away muttering curses. The peacock stayed awhile basking in the admiration of the bees. But it soon grew wearied with their empty buzzing. Its head still aching with the question of its crown it trudged along.

Its weary walk brought it to the dark woods that swallowed whole the clandestine union of all beasts. It stood there, mesmerized by the koel's song. It's feet tapped gently to the rhythm of the waterfall. For a brief time it forgot the question and stayed enraptured. But suddenly, the eager male rabbit pounced on his female with such a fury that he startled the koel who flew far into the woods taking her song with her. The peacock now sad at the loss of the song, walked on aimlessly.

Soft, hesitant steps brought the peacock to a dark cave amidst the valley. The cave was inhabited by the great Dragon. The Dragon was a silent ascetic, who had taken a vow of silence. Forever tormented by the pull of desire and fear, he fought an enormous war with the peak of Soma for forty days and forty nights. With no victor in sight, Soma yielded a draw to him, giving him the gift of his Great Bow and his nectar tipped arrow. In return, the Dragon yielded to Soma his ever burning fire. After this fight, the Dragon withdrew to this secret hidden cave of the valley. There in the cave, he set the arrow upon the Great Bow and buried the arrow in the ground with the string till taut. Then he climbed on the bow string and began his penance. He woke from his reverie only once every monsoon and uttered one line of verse. He did not care if anybody listened, noted it down or it merely echoed of the walls. After uttering this verse, he would end his fast for a brief time before relapsing into meditation on the bow again.

Into this cave, the peacock walked, gazing along the damp walls of the cave, its heart beating slowly to the dripping of some underground river. It suddenly came upon the Dragon and gazed at it in awe. At that very moment, the Dragon opened his eyes and prepared to break his vow. The peacock's crown, burdened with the question so far, found a voice and sprang out of the peacock, like the light of dawn.

Why should it be?

What end does it see?

Whither goes this life?

Where ends this strife?

The Dragon smiled as these words spurted out of the peacock's crown like blood from a fresh wound. He removed the bow from the ground and held the strung arrow between his fingers. He paused for a second and uttered

The arrow flew and hurried

Till in the target it is buried

His fingers let go of the arrow. The string quivered shattering the silence of the cave. With the swiftness of its thirst, the arrow plunged deep into the peacock's full chest, drawing out the blood of life. The peacock slipped softly into the ground, went limp and died.

Portrait

Dusk's sun glows mellow

Your face yielding nascent smile

Who paints this eve gold?

Passion

Bent

drooping with lust wanton

Soft

heaving with desire brazen

Sweat

running like the river in abandon

Sighs

heavy like thunder distant

Hands

gripped firmly on shoulders

the cloud made love to the mountain.

Tamil

Solace

Life, a fickle companion

runs and strolls

one step ahead

one step behind.

I close my eyes

and breathe some in

breathe some out

life hides somewhere between the two.

T'wixt this perfumed garden

of bleeding roses and silent jasmines

of cold ivory and nectar fruits

of lilting flute and lotus eyes

T'wixt this raging fire

of burning passion and placid peace

of heartfelt love and wanton sin

of flaming heat and slain ashes

One thought runs soft

a refuge, a familiar nest

"All life's thralls shall fade soft

When death my love seals her kiss"

Sultry summer

My tired arms sigh

as your summer sweat is drunk

by a jealous sun

The summer bird

Summer bird I beseech thee

teach me a song as free as thee

lend my thoughts your wings, your sky

make my words light and spry

Colour my soul with your sight

mango blossoms and a sun so bright

Fill it brimming with a thousand blooms

of colours and light and sweet perfumes

Lead me through summer's lust

through heat and breeze and swirling dust

Tell me what secrets spake

the pigeon cooing to his mate

Hide my mind in a jasmine's breast

drown my heart in manna blest

Take me deep into her cove

take me into her sceret grove

Show me there her throbbing soul

Sloping valleys and sylvan knoll

Show me there in that single flower

A thousand blooms that live forever

Take me then on a butterfly's lips

humming through a hundred trips

to roses, violets and others untame

a thousand hearts for us to claim

Rest me awhile on a blade

of grass asleep in banyan shade

A dreamy sleep of sweat and heat

drinking noon sun's passion sweet

Carry me then on a sunbeam bent

to some sweet land with pastoral scent

of placid cows and cowherd's song

where evenings stretch languorously long

Fold your wings and sit by me

as dusk dies softly by a tree

Teach me silence that your heart holds

as the orange glow gently unfolds

Then take me home to a sylvan hutch

half asleep in the full moon's touch

Lay me there on simple earth

and let me sleep a sleep of death

How subtle a net do we weave

How swift our mind leads us on

Threads of thought twist and cleave

in fingers of words deftly con

How we tread with dreamy feet

Seeking roads that our desires take

How does the mind ooze deceit

the spider's mouth that web make

How we toil in empty sweat

Hours that run in joyless drone

How the heart does worry and fret

piling with filth its own throne

How we speak sans respite

shedding words that wither and die

Empty branches that take delight 

in eternal autumn always nigh

Away

Dead she sleeps my lover true
A blossom of spring that summer slew
Dead she sleeps all so still
Sans breath sans will

Her eyes don't shine nor her face
It seems she has gone another place
Her heart lies tombed in folded hands
Her garb is greyed like time's sands

Her bosom stays no longer heaves
Her voice is mute no magic weaves
Her lips are parched split apart
like barren land, a broken heart

No tear nor smile decks her soul
No fountain flows nor passion dole
The river has dried; the clouds have left
The bird has flown; the nest bereft

Here I stand; stand and see
The dead half of a living we
I stand and gaze and stand and gaze
Finding no life not a trace

Then...

Dusk does fall; day fades away
cool summer breeze traces a way
I sigh and sing and walk away
My heart grows quiet...

I

walk

away...

Inebria

Drink me this cup of eternal delight

Flowing forever my lovely lover

Drink me this wine sparkling and bright

Moisten they lips, my jasmine flower

Drink of this nectar and fold in my arms

I'll take you floating to my magic bower

Clandestine cove of cavern and charms

Far reaching trees and fine morning shower

There be some birds koels and crows

There be some buds, wild for your tress

There be some dew diamond that glows

I ask your heart and you whisper yes

Secret a lake, we shall espy

Waist in the water nestle in my chest

Cast off thy garb, that doth belie

Thy swelling charms, sweet treasure chest

Kiss me once, O! kiss me again

One bright as day, ten dusky nights

Kiss me an end forever but vain

Feed me thy love that subtly delights

High burning sun, spent passion sweat

Lie by my side, sweet noon's rest

Like sapphire in gold is set

Idyll and still a well painted nest

Then we shall brew us some ancient spell

Wake up some fairies to make us a dream

Fill it with dusk's glow sweet to dwell

Gilt it with morning's rare golden beam

Come, my angel, come to my land

Simple and soft a sylvan knoll

Untouched ever by foul human hand

Flung faraway from terrene toll

Come we shall find us a gray flock of sheep

Sing us a song of enchanted breeze

And in the eve a sweet home to keep

A lamp that is lit and time doth so cease

Sequined dreams

Begone ye pallid skies
Here in my palm a dawn
of tremulous gold lies
Into the void ye begone

Begone ye leeches of thought
Thy breeding broods lie waste
Long has this battle been fought
Flee now lest my blade you taste

For, life's river has flooded now
flowing with her thunderous roar
Beauty runs her oaken plough
Tilling my soul's dusty core

Here she has come again
Lovely Cora to my dying Hades
Beauty my Goddess truth plain
Dressed in life's painted shades

Here she smiles in vixen trance
Casting her spell of Asian bloom
There she plunges a scarlet lance
softly dying by the Gothic tomb

Heed her pipe soft and low
Tunes of a bronzed even Ra
Leading the soul to silent glow
Charming it there in mellow awe

How she veers, with toxin lined
Spring's poison mixed with wile
Into the goblet of a roue mind
Circe bearing her bubbling guile

How she bathes in tears borne
in the moonlit pool of a broken heart
Curing her soul in ancient mourn
love that death has done to part

There she shines in forlorn eyes
of Ophelia floating white on the brook
In Shalott Lady's half sick sighs
Cleaven dreams, that fate did crook

Here I suck her crimson lip
Burning in passion's yellow fever
There I die in her violet grip
Trembling in fancy's morbid horror

Baroque notes of the undead organ
In those she bares her pearly fangs
The wretched Count, the heir of Gorgon
The Phantom genius with burning pangs

How she shines in wisdom's realm
Thoughts bound in genius' cement
Evolved grammar in reason's helm
Sans a stain sans a dent

How she burns in virtue's dais
Rising in Bharata's flaming vow
How she soars above worldly ways
In the seers' flattened brow

Softly she treads with Japanese feet
Lilting and swaying to Chinese strains
Bamboo steps printed on snowy sheet
Dreamy mountains in yawning chains

Anew a thousand times she comes alive
Spring's seed, joy's sleeping storm
Breathing life doth in her bosom thrive
Flowing with blood of dreams warm

Breathe unto me a fresh life my muse
A thousand times and then once more
My thought, your will may they fuse
A thousand times and then once more

Conversations with silence

Nigh is the afternoon sun
blazing down on earth white.
Foreheads are wet.
Throats run dry
Hunger burns a dark flame
keeping sleep just at bay.

Then she slides
into half closed eyes
wearing the garb
of morning light.
The compass of truth;
the ocean of order
Goddess silence.

In language that was
never conceived
I speak with her.

Tell me, O Goddess
What is thy form?
Is thee of light
divine and flowing?
Is thee of flame
still and austere?
Is thee of beauty
brilliant and benign?
The divine nymph
closes her eye.

Tell me, O Goddess
What are thy signs?
The throbbing unrest
is that thy coming?
The thirsting ennui
is that thy flag?
The raging desire
is that thy herald?
The serene sylph
sits cross legged.

Tell me, O Goddess
Who are thy kin?
The spoken word
is it thy child?
The divine music
is she thy sister?
The breath that is drawn
is she thy love?
The queen of present
stopped her breath.

Tell me, O Goddess
where dost thou live?
The hills that are lofty
are they thy seat?
The sea that is deep
is that thy abode?
The still moon in the lake
is that thy perch?
The woman with one eye
shimmered in space

Tell me, O Goddess
what is thy path?
Thus did I ask.

The great arms of the wind
blew the needle away.

Armoire

When you wear your dress
of sheer white
pure and spotless
I sit in silence
seeing knowledge that is great.

When you wear your dress
of dull grey
jaded and insipid
I lie in ennui
breathing death that
seems immortal.

When you wear your dress
of brilliant blue
infinite and azure
I look in awe
feeling the stretching ocean
in a single drop.

When you wear your dress
of abundant green
I stretch my soul
laying its weariness
like a dewdrop on the grass
for your sun to drink.

When you wear your dress
of glittering gold
I toil and sweat
matching my work to your
immediate glory,
beads of pearl on your shimmering dress.

When you wear your dress
of transparent crystal
I open my arms
receiving and giving
all that is forever
a flowing river.

When you wear your dress
of crimson red
Then I take my pen
dip it in your blood
Then creation kneels
in awe before the poet.

Dusk and lust

Evening has lit up
with a copper sunlight.
Southern breeze
kisses all in an infinite mercy.
The golden glow
spreads in Man's smile.
The frenzy of day
has reached his orgasm.
Soon he shall turn over
and sleep covered in night's blanket.

Awake

Tarry no longer my heart
weary and arid is this land
arise! this is the moment to start
come now take my hand

words are but trifles
meaning too deceives
Alas how it stifles
all that the ear receives

Why in the corner we hoard
thoughts that belong to the pyre
Murky footprints that have long trod
Ashes crumbling from a dead fire

There see the morning sun
the fresh breath of life anew
Dawn has come with the sound of One
The path is shown, open and true

Obligatory post

The Eccentric City (Although, I really could not capture the weirdness.)

Loneliness

Prose on a cold dark night

I'm a poet trying to write prose
A blind eye that cannot see
I'm the lovely red rose
that knows just to be


What do you do, when your true love, the flame that burned in the solitude of your soul, goes silent? When you know all the notes that make up the most perfect music, but your mouth refuses to sing? When there is a river flowing in your heart...but she flows quietly on a soft bed of sand?

I have written, in pangs of desire, longing and sorrow. My heart was the sacrifice I offered to the idol I worshipped. In the dull light of hunger, I sat in front of her cruel form, cutting my burning heart and bleeding words to appease her. She never heard me. My thirst for love, beauty and truth grew coiled like the incense I burned. But the idol was silent.

Yet, I took a perverse joy in the whole affair. In bringing my heart to her and let it die a slow death in the light of her cold stare. I felt myself rising with each sacrifice. I felt I was somehow higher and more evolved compared to those who never saw the idol. I magnified my own dark shadows with the flickering light of my intellect and my imagination. I rejoiced as I saw them throw fantastic shapes on the walls.

And then, one day, the hot air from the plateau reached me. My heart stopped aching, and I was confused. I threw my idol in ager and shivered at the shadows on the wall. The sweltering heat fuelled my soul, making me sweat...beads of salty perspiration, pearls of truth seeping out from my very skin. I was alive. Alive but confused, like the newborn who doesn't understand that it has come to this world.

I had dreamt of this very thing all my life. To experience and to feel what I have seen reflected in the many words that I have read. To feel in my heart the light that shined in the heart of every poet and every lover. To see with my own eyes, what the eternal lover sees forever in the night sky. And yet, now that I had it in my hands, I wrote no more.

I always believed in a love that was blind. Light, the only teacher we have to help us see, is himself blind. To see like him, our eyes must seek blindness. And it is thus that my love came to me. But what I did not expect was that, truth is not seen by just blind eyes, but a blind soul.

I see now, everything, every single sensation that a man could experience in a lifetime. I'm at once happy, sad, thirsty, satiated; I'm in harmony and in chaos at once. What I see is not an overwhelming spectacle, it is a simple heart, that silences everything.

So, I bleed words lesser now. Is it because my love has been fulfilled? Is it because my muse has left me? No. It is because I do not write to impress, to tempt or to share, to bare. I do not write in the pangs of hunger nor in the joy of satiety. I put pen to paper not for you, my reader who is reading this; not for her, who makes me writes this; not even for me, who sees it all. I write with no intention of influencing. I write with no influence.

I write, because it happens. I write, when it happens. I write, like my pen - picked up when it is time and sealed when it is done. I do not imagine or create a world - they merely appear.

Like the rain cloud, I gather my nectar in silence and when it is time, I pour it all out. Like the rain cloud, I do not pour at the will of any God or man - especially mine. Like the rain cloud, I do not shower a drop of false water, even if the earth shrivels in drought.

When the idol is broken and the Goddess shines in the poet's every living moment, he speaks only truth. And most of the times, that truth is silence.

The house of words

Through the many doored house
My song walks through,
One
door
at
a
time

It knocks on an ivory door
and opens it with laughter
A word comes out of it
Pleasure.

It knocks on a silver door
and opens it with a smile
A word comes out of it
Wisdom.

It knocks on a sandalwood door
and opens it with pride
A word comes out of it
Elixir

It knocks on a golden door
and opens it with silence
A word comes out of it
Truth

It knocks on a glass door
and opens it with tears
A word comes out of it
Love

It stands in front of an open door
Laden with all the words
No word comes out
No
word