Birdsong

Skywriting

The writing stretches across the bright blue sky,
In the form of snow-white clouds that loom large
A look-out notice for your soulmate you really miss
Against the distant blue mountains and valleys.

From my vantage point that shows me the land,
I watch the skies turn from blue to ochre shades,
When your songs at twilight brought an embrace
Or brought in a love-light too strong to withstand.

Your hands that trace the contours of my body
Your eyes that appreciate the hues that I'd wear,
You bringing me my favourite chempaka flowers
Or telling me stories of your long weary work-day.

The absence of years made worthy by its pain,
Love that stays forever written across the skies.

Dedication

You came with the summer rains
With thunder and lightning,
An explosion in the big silence
And left an upturned life,
But with a huge difference-
Your absence and memories.

You came with the rains,
When the roses bloomed
When the earth danced
To the rhythm of raindrops,
On the rooftop, dum dum dum,
In that house with a leaky roof,

While I’d lie awake and listen,
Watch out for the merciless rain,
Toss and turn on my bed,
Snuggle against the pillow,
Get up and move the furniture,
Come back and dream of you.

I’d look at those lovely roses,
And imagine a few incidents,
Run and rerun your smile,
Every word and every laugh,
Our cryptic mutual messages
And your funny way with words.

I’d go over how that mighty rain,
Peltered on our brown skins,
Tanned as you’d say,
Natural as I’d say,
Brown, plain and dark skins,

In that heavy sudden outburst,
There was nothing left to say,
Yet all that was left unsaid,
Was everything that we couldn’t
Speak, dream or create-
A language we couldn’t speak.

I’d remember how I could sing,
Stand, dream, sit, talk, laugh,
Everything except cry
Be myself beside you,
For you were never another,
Only my own self, my mirror.

I’d gather all these moments,
Treasure them in my mind,
For you are no longer here,
For you are no longer mine,
Only a story to remember,
Only a memory to erase.

This crying idiot you never saw,
Who hid behind all clownishness,
A love that searched ways to erase,
All barriers of words between us,
But never could utter a word
Or dream a glimpse of you.

For I can see you in my dream,
For your left reminders on my path,
Your voice, words and a model,
Which I unconsciously imitate
And respect to my own surprise;
It was not that long you know to judge,
Only a summer of well-repressed words,
Dreams and an unlived life together.

As I move on with new strength,
After troughs and crests of longing,
A few words to celebrate an absence,
A few songs that an clown offers
To kill a love that stopped this life,
To make you smile with remembrance
For being so big (not fat) in my eyes,
For you these Songs of Silence.

The Year of the Brown Earth Dog

Long while ago, in the Year of the Metal Rooster,
When the world was witnessing mighty big events
One lazy afternoon, some fun blended them together-
A Water Dragon and a Wood Sheep- now my parents.

It must have been raining outside, I still imagine,
My earliest cells might have dreamt of the monsoon,
Of the soft pitter-patter it made on the tin roofs,
While the two powerful elements mixed together. 

What strange elements it must have been I wonder,
A thundersome anger, love of music and poetry,
What strange moment it must have been to form
A mysterious phenomenon, welcome or unwelcome.

The story of me began in the Year of the Rooster,
It welcomes now the Year of the Brown Earth Dog.

Female Quixote

May be a kindly Quixote might rush towards you,
May be a warrior on a white horse might rescue you
If only you let her envelop you in her loving arms,
If only you let her make you forget all your worries.

For there are no invisible windmills left to fight for,
Only the needs such as shelter or grace to live by,
Then the charm of your words to light up my days,
Or the warmth of your smile to keep me alive always.

These songs of a miracle that did move mountains,
These words that sound so simple yet difficult to say,
What the heart wanted to say all these weary years
All melting down before a miracle that's so strange.

Simple yet powerful the words rush and gush out
The ways of saying "I love you" written in the skies.

Blessings

Blessing

An Irish blessing

Us

Garden

Blessings

An irish blessing

Sublimation

The dust in the hourglass falls down rhythmically,
While you and I negotiate on this slow-moving life,
Like the ancient master of absurdity had once wrote,
None comes, none goes, nothing happens- uneventful.

You and I have reached a point where we need to part,
You have miles to go to reach your true destination,
While I decide to stay behind hiding my hurt heart,
Nursing the wounds with a half-woven dream in words.

You and I lived together in a make-believe world,
You with your ready-made ideas of time-travelling,
While I went on weaving dreams of having a family,
All centred around your strong arms around mine.

For there is no going back, this absurd heart knows
For some solids shed no tears, those who sublimate.

Home

Nowadays, teaching means you have to raise your voice
Louder than the taking-off- planes or screeching trains;
Roaming around the campus looking at the strange trees,
Wondering at what strange names they must be having. 

It often means finding that perfect selfie under the trees,
Feeling at home in the canteen with a book in my hand,
Trying to remember what made you leave this place once,
While looking around the tomes in the neatly kept library.

It means singing that old monsoon raga to watch if it rains,
Where the eyes that focus on you are lost in hunger or love
Where the kids worship you like an amazon warrior of old,
All amidst the noises of the sea that beckons from nearby.

This coming home might not have been an accident at all, 
To have come back once again under the same ancient trees.

Love

Wherever I go, I see your face in the vast crowds,

In the face of strangers, on the walls, on the pages,

While I try my best to keep you away day and night

Keep your thoughts that come like chorus in a song.

You come back in the rain and in the bright sunshine,

In the ochre light of early dawn or the purple sunset,

Your voice that trails across the miles to bring a smile,

While you remain a memory that I try hard to erase.

It brings back a much forgotten era of bright sunshine,

When we were both young under the same supermoon,

When our voices that commingled could bring friends,

From far and wide just to listen to the merriment seen.

But now, this heart wants to build a strong fortress,

To keep you from making me a slave of your love.

the sun and her flowers

The writer that I am currently reading (and raving about) is Rupi Kaur. Recently, on a lazy afternoon, I was literally gobbling on her book "the sun and her flowers", when I saw her poetry slam at the Jaipur Literary festival.

She is very vivacious and the energy that flows from the book is quite contagious.She shared an anecdote on watching Atwood at a previous literary festival and this time it was her presenting her poems. I turned the pages of "the sun and her flowers" along with her and I found it a profoundly moving experience. Hope to lay hands on her next book, soon!

 

Motivation

Priority

Service

Attitude