Friday, February 29, 2008

Shadows ...without a doubt

Always when it is time that the day is done

And the darkness of night has just about begun

And the sun nuzzles the breasts of distant hills

And the homeward bird gives out hurried shrills,

That I sense a certain fear envelope my mind

And I can feel something creeping up from behind .

What was that behind the door? A scurrying mouse?

Worried I set off running, from the house ...

Soon my hurrying feet settle into a rhythmic trot

Though my furrowed brow is still with anxiety fraught

My heart beats faster and I quicken my pace

Then some perspiration begins to lace my face .

A little further up and then I turn around

To return home with a confidence newly found !

No eerie silence on entering do I find

Nor the lengthening shadows I had left behind

That were those of the kilos I had lost earlier

And were now trying to get back on to my derriere!!

With a TRIUMPHANT smile I am glad I do not baulk

At the thought of my daily evening walk !!!

Writer's Island : Prompt "Triumph" 18 April 08

Wednesday, February 27, 2008


Foot in mid air , she stills her silver anklet
Tinkling softly , low and dulcet.
She gathers her rustling silken skirt
Sounding like leaves when the wind does flirt.
Her fair beauty turns crimson in the blazing sun
Blushing deeper with thoughts of a loved one.
Her searching eyes flit left and right
Darting like a frightened doe in mid-flight.
Strains for a flute , does her delicate ear
But it’s only a koyal in the peepal near .
Her pounding heart does miss a beat
Her anxious eye does her mind cheat .
For it misses that freshly dug mound of mud
From which flutters a tatter stained with blood.

Foot in air , she wears still her silver anklet
Tinkling softly, low and dulcet.
There is rustling from her once silken skirt
As she walks in the air over the reddish dirt.
Her beauty now ageless though a ghostly white.
Barely visible on a moonless night.
Her searching eyes still flit here and there
Looking for signs of him everywhere
Her ears still strain for the sounds of a flute
In a distance does only the night owl hoot.
Her furtive glance her delusional mind
Are all that has been now left behind.
For grass has grown on that mound of mud
From which no longer flutters a tatter with blood .

Monday, February 25, 2008

Monday Morning Blues

This morning as I woke up

A little plan I thought up

In order to chase off the Monday blues

I needed to put on my walking shoes .

Then walk I did ..up to my car

And started the ac too hot yaar !!

Then belted up and drove off quickly

To get the cure for that Monday sickly !!

No not the pharmacy or the chemist’s store

I went to this place where they had galore

Sarees and fabric from all over the country

For the simple or even the landed gentry !

The cottons ,the silks, the hues, the feel

My joyous heart they all did steal ...

When I left home my heart was heavy and blue

On the return my heart was lighter was my purse too !!!


Though a master weaver , he spun a veil so thin , it did not mask the pain within......

Pitter patter went the drops , against the window pane.
I looked on with unseeing eyes , glazed with the pain.

But the show was about to start of Nature’s glorious fury.
The drops, incessant now, seemed in such a tearing hurry.

Nebulous memories, clouded my eyes , like the darkened skies above
Blinding lightning jabbed my heart with flashes of unrequited love.

It turned into a steady downpour, there was not a spot that was dry.
My tremulous heart opened it floodgates and then it had a copious cry.

So racked was I with sorrow and with pain
That I even forgot to look out again .

I didn’t feel the loving warmth. I didn’t see the Sun.
I didn’t see the pot of gold at the spot the rainbow’d begun .

Friday, February 22, 2008

The Victim.

The Words they sat in a quiet huddle.

The Mind looked on in a bewildered muddle.

For in a heap lay all bound and tightly shackled

The Verse that the aspiring poet had tackled!

All metered and paired and cut to measure

Then fitted and rhymed to the poet’s pleasure !

A passing glance showed him to be ordinary

So inconspicuously plain and hardly exemplary.

Wearing tattered clichés and ideas drab,

Tempting words, his hungry eyes did grab.

The oblivious poet in his euphoric daze

Did not see the Verse writhing, under his gaze.

He saw a new born gurgling in innocent content

Smiling at the world with naive intent.

As the Verse lay floundering in vain

To free himself, of this regimented pain,

The poet looked on with adoring fatherly eyes

At the ends meet, after several infantile tries!

As the Verse was gagged with sturdy Rhyme

He lay struggling in Rhythmic grime.

But the poet wore blinkers upon his eyes

And the desperate Verse soon gives up and dies.

The Words now mourned as they all stood around

The unmoving Verse, still ,shackled and bound.

The Park Bench

24 Sep 2007

Singapore National Botanical Garden.

The park bench sat in a shady nook.

The still emerald of the lake it did overlook.

It sat there peacefully, quietly beckoning.

Its inviting solitude all for your reckoning.

Side by side an elderly couple, now animatedly sat.

Talking of Life now and then, of things this and that.

Soon it got warm and they were off on their way.

Then a young mother came along around midday.

As she cajoled her baby into eating his lunch,

The older one watched a squirrel giving peanuts a crunch.

The early evening, two sisters brought along

Story books to read and songs to sing-a-long.

As the sun set, casting long shadows to the ground,

A much-in-love couple had their arms wrapped around.

Soon it was night and the park warden went home.

In a blanket of darkness, the bench was tucked in by the gnome.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008


A pearl
Glistening softly and bright
Iridescent in the morning light
Lay quivering on a leaf’s brink
For the sleeping bud to drink .

एक कली
फैलाकर पंखुरी , अन्गदाइयां लेती
ओस की बूँद से फ़िर वह नहाती
हवा के झोंके मे है कपकपाती
चमन मे खुशबू अपनी दे उडाती
A scent
A mere hint and oh-so mild
Alluring like a playful child
Rides the gentle summer’s breeze
Then nestles against the towering trees.

यह पेड़
शाखों पे पत्ते हरे
जैसे मन मे विचार भरे
कुछ सूख कर पड़े पीले
कई खिलकर फूले फले ।

Monday, February 18, 2008

Picture Perfect

The drops caught square on her dimpled chin.
Hurrying and scurrying as the rain did begin.
The dust and the leaves the wind began to scatter
As the rain drops turned to a steady pitter patter

She pursed her lips , her brow creased into a frown
Her admonishes, the thundering did drown.
Exasperated she thought it was the last straw
When instead of the brolly the camera he did draw!

She stood , hands on her hips, getting soaking wet .
Seemingly annoyed, but indulgent yet.
Her wind swept hair , her shirt a bit askew.
He took a deep breath for the familiar smell he knew.

Her arms outstretched as she now beckoned to him
His eyes turned dim and wet at the rim.
She stood perfectly still with edges of silver.
A flash, a moment , of Time a little sliver.

His hair now peppered with memories , his clothes not so dapper.
His finger gently traced her face on the faded glossy paper.