glue

The more i plunge in myself
The more stuck I get,
to my own being...
It's like falling in a huge glue tub
It sticks to you, in tiny strings
small filaments and
tacky little fibres....
The more i try coming out
It extends and stretches
All across my being
Why so many bonds?
So much adhesion
So much connection
To a self that dies
Every moment
To a new self born,
Every moment
Stuck unstuck
Every relation
Stuck unstuck
My two fingers...
Stuck unstuck
My two beings
Stuck unstuck...

Russian love....

Flakes all over
Flakes over the bridge
Covering every road
Covering every ridge
The frost on my lips
Melts with your breath
Your icy fingers singe my skin
Passion seems to ripple
Beneath the frozen river
Draw me close
Draw me near
Oh dear snowman...
Now your kiss is burning
Now your lips sear....

For a dear friend...whom I dare not even dream to lose....


What should I say?
I feel the vacuum,
Can touch it if I stretch my hand...
Don’t yell, don’t cry,
Your name has dried on my lips
Before it reached you...
The bells chime,
It’s about time,
That without memories,
I left you...
Lonely planet
And its single song...
So long my dear...
So long...

Dusk...

This one seems strange to be placed here yet i dare post it...
Somehow its a tale of a couple who parted ways n met again once...this is what the lady had to say to him....
actually the poem has obvious references to a lot of imagery from various sources...some very clear some opaque...but yeah i loved the imagery,its vividness and so it came to me as if it were mine.....
Dusk...
Grey hair suits you better
Those crow feet make you more handsome
Those droopy eyes behind rimmed glasses appeal me still
You have grown sexy with age....
Now, I like you better
A life fully lived...
Burnt in the sun of time
Reborn in the nights of destiny
Remember the days of yore?
Your bare back was my canvas
Your every t-shirt had a hole
For me to sneak a peak
At your ever imploring mole...
Our garden had more cactus
For jasmine had lost its fragrance
Our hands were full of sunbeams
We caught in our bedroom,
Pillows were cages of feathers
Ready to escape with every fight
All our bed linen
Was any color but white
Most of my bookmarks
Were feathers and leaves
From the unhurried lanes of time
When poetry suited you better
Than faded kurtas
And torn jeans seemed so classic
When I ripped them at the shin ....
Bangles seemed to talk
About my every thought
Each anklet told you
About my secret sojourns
Past your house and window
Every pillow was scented
With tears, sweat and semen
And my bridal blanket
With a droplet from my hymen...
Cluttered in our tiny existence
Came the silly weather....
Made me blue n grey for you...
Till despair drove us apart....
Today all I ask
At the dusk of life
Can we ever start
A new story of faith?
Can we be together?
Cause I feel today...
That grey hair suit you better.....

Barasana maiden's love song....

Call me call me oh dear
Call me for I fear
My name shall never raise
Waves of emotion
In the sea of your heart
Call me call me oh dear
I shall come rushing forth
Gushing from a primal force
Gathering momentum once
Losing it to mere pebbles
As my feet bleed
Call me call me oh dear
It’s my longest journey
From within me to without you
From a lover to a pilgrim
As I transform
Call me call me oh dear
Be my God and beckon me
Recollect our bonds and reckon me
Let the peacock feathers remind you
Our early monsoon delights
And all our parting fear
Call me call me oh dear
Those days of twilight tidings
Of kisses you sealed on my breast
Of your tears I held in my nest
Of my feet on the grass
And your snakelike slither...
Call me call me oh dear
Let me end my journey
At the doorstep of your temple
Let my thirsty eyes
Quench at your sight
Let my wretched soul
Purify in your waters
Oh Gopala, my beloved,
Call me call me oh dear
A pilgrim calls
A lover wails
To fate I adhere
Call me call my dear......

Your mother....the.....

“The succulent sweetness of Urdu poetry
The eternally glorified separation of Laila Majnu
The epitomized epitaph inscribed on the winds, belongs to Mastani
The crystallized tears of Umrao Jaan Ada
The by lanes of Lucknow with latticed tales of love and the economics of love
The sole lamp lit in the courtyard, gracing her vacant sky
The fleeting charm from her eyes, tired and dried up
The empty, wretched womanhood, exploited for infinite moons
The crumpled gajras and bedspreads, wads of notes lying around
The slimy grin on her bastard’s face; he too had his noons
The vacant stare into the future, too bleak to be sympathized
Yet, too poetic to be buried in earth, for poetry shall burst forth...”
That’s why my child,
the gulmohur on your mother’s grave is ever in ecstatic bloom....
Your mother...
The prostitute....

question....

i have worn garlands

of lonliness around my neck

i have adorned my hair

with fragrant flowers of your memory

i have decked up

with silks of our whisperings

i have worn anklets

of our tinkling laughter

i am the apsara

i am the abhisarika

i am the yakshini

who has a question;

even fate cannot answer...

"who made me a woman?

and filled poetry in my heart?"

a thought tossed forth...

The current education system cannot stop riddling me...
A total blast out of no where kinda topic this i know...but jus bothering me...
The conventional 10+2 n then arts science commerce..the rigmarole..Entrances, tests, classes...n fight for decimals..we have started taking 90% for granted....
Coaching classes and their bright students!!! wow!then parents boasting about these kids in every possible place...
Poof and comes the time to don the graduation garb followed by PG in US or placement in a brilliant MNC!!!life now seems so complete na...
well then the time comes where atleast a few of us realise..we didnt really learn what is necessary or what we learnt is not at all useful...we need more, we need something different and we need to fill in a lot of stop gaps to actually stop ourselves from sinking in this abyss of reality!!!
well what went wrong?where?
I too faced similar questions, confronted them and realised a few things..just thoughts but i think they should be provoking enough...
Our entire system of education makes us go through a maze of exams and tests for subjects we hardly use in our day to day lives..and till the time we are 15 we are yet to realise where to we are heading, most of us are still at the same question even after 10 more years...
What we essentially lack is the inclusion of vocational subjects with equivalent status in our curriculum!maybe some of the students might be able to identify their interests earlier in life...
The competition for marks will sizably reduce, there would be a better clarity in the student's mind about his/her ability and aptitude, also a great amount of confidence and positive stress free approach towards higher education in the same field or aligned field of interest...Also there would be greater avenues for those who preferred to climb the academic ladder for the sheer intellectual pleasure of it all...
The entire social strata would be much more harmonious if there were multiple outlets or exit points for students from this maze of education, also multiple entry points for selective higher education.
Higher and concentrated exposure in the subject of interest would make the pupil more absorbed and sincere in the task at hand, thus we can imagine the kind of satisfied work force we shall have if each one has found a vocation of his/her own choice.
The second point is more relevant and not as much radical, we have various hard core vocational courses, engineering, architecture, hotel management etc, also other non vocational ones like arts, commerce etc...we all accept these conventional careers which are a natural outcome of the educational qualifications we gain. But then again we are looking for the unconventional careers which do not toe the line...be it being a DJ or RJ or maybe a copy writer, a model or an avid biker...a consistant amount of people do keep falling in this category, but what about the rest???
Cant we think up of something innovative?Cant we simply add a dash of creativity to the entire educational set up?
Cant we have creative engineers?creative doctors?well am not talking about engineers and doctors who have pursued theatre, painting or writing alongwith their professions, but about the essential creative approach towards their own profession, vocation?
Why do we need to learn this approach from a maverick?Why cant the syllabus be more flexible enough to accomodate a wayword thought process?why does sickness and its healing have to be the principle concern for doctors?why cant wellness be the concern?why do motors and routers and switches operate only on useful machines?why cant we have someone thinking up of engineering interesting toys or even building interesting structures for the generations to come?
Why poetry needs to be marginalised to slim volumes and part time poets?why cant the society celebrate the wordsmith?
why cant engineering concepts relate to various mythological or cultural phenomenon?why ram setu is a point of political dispute why not a subject for our civil engineers?
why is the tribal medicine totally shunned we might use the crude wisdom to treat many a modern day malaise....why is indian english just slotted as wrong or used liberally to amuse the ivory tower inhabitants?why not celebrate the indianisation of the language?
why cant universities stop being factories producing moron like graduates from every field, en masse...why cant we not have a creative or rational bachelor /master of commerce or arts or engineering or medicine???
not that the word can be justifiably used or even the level of creativity or rationality be tested and graded, just that innovation and evolution should be taught as a continuous ongoing process of education.
I really feel that being educated is one thing and being aware is another thing altogether...
Why cant we have interdisciplinary studies?maybe the buzz of the motor sets a tune in the mind of the engineer...he might compose a piece of music...connecting him/her on a very different plane with his/her vocation...
The approach might just sound abrupt, half cooked but the germ is genuine...
Come to think of more creatively liberated people, we definately will have more harmony in the society at large....
lets dream more..about changing the setup and lets get out our paint brushes of action and paint a brand new reality for ourselves!!!

what do you do when a touch leaves you empty?
what do you do when a sentence leaves you untouched?
what do you do when leaves scatter autumn poems only to be swept up n burnt?
what do you do when fantasies haunt the real life?
what do you do when illusions promise you a better company?
.........

i break apart...

each touch and memories of each touch...

mercury almost...flowing away untouched...

the flow beyond words...untouched by expression....

each expression piled n burned...

till ashes of creativity remained...

blown away to the far away Ganges of innocence...long polluted yet flowing.....

flowing n carrying carcasses of illusions..of aspirations and maybe even the dream lover....

all sailing along...down the sea of uncertainity and mindless depth...

only to be churned...thrashed by the waves and unmade by the currents....

thrown on the sea floor with rusted n chainless anchors for company....

sharks of the times when they ruled roost...

mobile roots of many a titanic....

and some opened n broken oyster pairs....

long lost eyes of the eternal lover...

who gave up his beloved to bejewel the harem....

incomplete stories with strains of music, sorrow and quest

for completion.....for the touch so complete....

empty....ness...

what do you do when a touch leaves you empty?

what do you do when a sentence leaves you untouched?

what do you do when leaves scatter autumn poems only to be swept up n burnt?

what do you do when fantasies haunt the real life?

what do you do when illusions promise you a better company?

.........

to be contd......

i grew up with you touch....

I remember fondling your breasts,
I remember clutching on to them
I remember your bosom was my world,
My Sun and the Moon...
Mother, I grew up with your touch!
I remember touching your fingers,
I remember kissing each one of them,
I remember your arms so strong and able
My unflailing support...
Father, I grew up with your touch!
I remember grinning at your bottom,
I remember noticing the difference, you a boy! i gasped almost! where is the hole gone?
I remember matching my dimples with those on your bum,
My sweet childhood mate....
Brother, kiddo...I grew up with your touch!
I remember you fondling my breasts,
I remember kissing your fingers
I remember we checking out the dimples on our baby's bottom
My dear....
Husband, I grew up with your touch!