the sands of time.........

A victim of the wind,
and smothered under the feet of all humanity,
does not thou wonder,
Why the creator of all world did give you existence??
Was it to traverse wherever the winds lead you?
Only to rest on all objects,unworthy and ancient alike....
and there too being always undesirable,
and dusted out of each resting place.......
Or was it to form whirlpools and twisters,
and assert and ferocity of mother nature?
Causing death and destruction unknown,
only to be cursed and dissolve back into this earth....
Or was it to shelter the dead souls?
Discarded by life and shunned by lords,
Which found place in the creases of your veil alone,
Only to decay and quench the appetites of worms therein......
Or was it to blot every adorned object,
with the fingery patterns that the children ,
doth design upon you??
Only to be cheated out of thy sleeping robe once again.......
Or was it to harbour rocks and pebbles??
Or to be the nuptial bed of roots and lower creations??
Or to tickle the senses of mortal vehicles,
With ur aroma,when the petals of water doth wet you??
O thou dust! forever seeking surface,
Why dont you question your maker,
for giving you no kith and kin and some form...
Some identity of ur own??
for why do you exist.......
sans purpose, sans shape, and sans soul.........

"one of the reasons why we crave love and seek it so desperately is that love is the only cure for lonliness, and shame and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only lonliness can help u find them again. Some thruths about you are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you......."
-Gregory David Roberts(Shantaram)

The Unfinished Woman....

Walking through the muddy streets,
Indiffrent to the swarms of buzzing bees,
Gazing at the stony world,
With her glassy countenance...
Whilst the statues remain engrossed
In their mongering menace,
Blind to the rusty cries of "Amen",
there goes The Unfinished Woman!!

Towards her house she turned,
but found it all disjunct.
Plunging into each discerned face,
Unable to locate nothing except hollow space...
Again towards the door she ran,
The Unfinished Woman!!

She reachd the sacred temple
Scrutinising the adorned dieties there assembled,
Watching the stolid statues,
Worshipping the non-chalant ones...
Not finding any solace,
Amongst the glowing grace.
Again she retreatd back,
While they tagged her as an unholy omen,
The Unfinished Woman!!

Passing the melancholy giants,
She went to rest in nature's lap.
Noticed lovers cuddling through the wilderness,
Found herself in another trap...
She searched beside her,
Hoping to find someone there,
But all she grasped was the scented air.
She traced her steps back again,
leaving the passionate souls to burn,
The Unfinished Woman!!

Tired and morbid,
Lost and sordid,
She slumped onto the flaming pavement.
Watching the encroachment of the greasy granite,
Into the lutes of stony flesh...
Failing to relate,identify or to express,
Staring straight into the shining sun,
The Unfinished Woman!

the journey away from life....

And the world passes by...as i stare out from the barred windows of my eye,i see the lustrous green mingling wth the brown of the earth,the visions cluster and dismantle... like autumnal leaves drifting on the ripples of the springly winds...in one frameless glance we attempt to summon the green,the blue,nd the brown...And yet all is lost in one instant, for the pace of our journey ahead is too rigorous,too mighty to halt and sucor up the juices of life...and visions after visions arrive...enthralling,quenching,interrogating nd demanding...but alas! all momentry for what are these trivial landscapes compared to the terrains we are to embrace...the terrains of wealth and the joys of luxury, the slavery to flesh and the pains of maintainence...no certainly these crystals arent meant to be collected...just walk by them and on them.....
We are too caught up in gathering the illussionary mirrors with which we adorn the walls of our lives...and at the loci of these closed and impregnable walls we stand, seeing ourselves all around... in every myopic mirror...WE are the nucleous of our existence....for the silver glossed glasses dont reflect the other side,what lies beyond the twilight....

So engulfed in the concentric circles of the self are we that we've forgottn to notice the trembling of the leaves in the soft breeze, the stooping of trees in spring, the sliding dew drop over a slippery leaf, the rustlings of nature, the dancing in the rain, the beauty of sleep under some shady tree, the writing of poetry in some rocky trove, the prismic colours of the skies after the rains, the gentle brush of the waves against our feet, the caresses of the wind on a winter night....
We pass non-chalantly the old man selling sculptures on the redlight, we never seek his eyes for the stories they have to tell, we walk by the young pauper ignoring his hands and the brutal destiny engraved there in, we never glance at that little girl selling bangles and remain forever oblivious of her divine beauty.....

So occupied with ourselves,we even ignore the most vital of questions...wot are we aspiring to achieve, what heights are to be conquered and what joys to be tasted at the loss of so much? What destinations in life are we walking towards ,leaving the essence of life far behind...lurking somewhere in the paths we have traversed...trampled under our hurrying feet............

the empty vessel....

Hollow and deep,
Cracked beneath the surface,
And mourning in its wrinkled fate,
It stares at the sageway of life...
Far beyond its reach now.
Blackness breeds at one corner,
In other shadows,death resides,
Together they mate...
And bring into this dark pit,
Engulfing voids.
They are born deaf and dumb,
They dont wail and grin...
They only glare and buzz.
Through the seeping cracks,
Embers of oblivion exude light,
And in the deepest attic...
Dwells the question of life.
Its black holes consume the starry nights,
And drowns all jingle of the trinklet...
Its dry lips forevr parted for that droplet of fire.
Hollow and deep,
It breeds on ripples of memories,
And breathes the stale flesh in the air...
Its scarred surface rocks in monotony,
Sans rythm...
Hanging from the slippery rock on the cliff,
Is this empty vessel of my eyes.

The Morning Stroll

The long,folding road lies ahead,
Reluctant feet take their infant steps,
Stamping plain the mud and the hopes embedded in it...
The head rises to catch a glimpse of the glowing sun,
Speeding to claim its throne,
But the sight is reprimanded back again,
For the pebbles on the road have overnight grown....
Cautious boots attempting to carve a way,
Fair feet now clad in black soot,
Dangling from them is the ragged past of so many,
Spread across the path is a future already regretted....
But from these torn scraps the present is carefully plucked,
And to heaving bosoms dearly clutched.
The stench of last night's sins,not yet disposed,
Mingles with the aura of someone well known dwelling by...
In the dirty streets repulsive ro the eye,
The gaze presently traces the sky again,
The sun now reaching its peak...
Reluctant steps fasten,
Leaving the sinister lane behind,
But encrusting on the tomstone of memory,
This solitary morning stroll.......

The Chained Flight.....

"We can deny the past but we cant escape its torment because the past is a speaking shadow that keeps pace with the truth of what we are...step for step...until we die."
-Gregory David Roberts(Shantaram)

A long walk on a rainy day...along the outskirts of the forest...crumbling on pebbles...sucked in by the luscious green...numbed by the aroma of the wet mud....feeling the winds caress your soul...you walk with contentment on your face...a feeling of being free...free from the shackles of despair and worldly subterfuge...and as you gulp in the the rustic air, you revel in this flapping of the soul...this solitude which opens the sageway to a phosphorus, prismic tunnel...and you enter with a sense of exhilaration....your pliant steps cautios and your trembling limbs hoping to emrace freedom therein...in this silent rendezvous between you and nature...you and yourself...you and your soul...

And this exultation siezies you...encapsulates you in a mystic haze...a musical trance......you catch the glimpse of a solitary bird perched on the cross of an abandoned church......staring at the 0range skies...and the wilderness seeping unchecked through its sinister boundaries....and you get engulfed by a mist of harmony...as tranquil as a bride's wand of flowers...as serene as a priest's rosary... amidst this island of free spirits you float on tides of Edenic bliss,like a blade of grass adhering to the whims of the wind...sans chains and bounds....sans conflicts....sans the sense of the world.......

Along this twisted road of spiritual festvities your step suddenly encounters an impediment...a trench full of auras so human...and you stop dead...the voice brings back to your mind some long forgotten events...some locks long sealed...and suddenly a chain reaction of remembrances is unleashed...you frantically search your haven of freedom...the bushes remind you of your orchard of unyielded friuts, the sky of a picturesque painting dangling on some distant wall...the solitary bird opens the flood gates of remenicences of a flight taken years down the lane...the closed gate of the haunted church opens on the central page the memoir of the tale of violation and broken hearts...the reigning cross screams of blood and supression of of the spirit...the gentle rains shove in front of your eyes the torrent of some other season...the aroma of earth induces the frangrances of some hunger quenching food had in some other trajectory of space...and you enter the terrain of concrete life now..the impoverishd old man seeking shelter in some gutter reminds you of your first dwelling...the roving beasts of some ancestral fields...the moving traffic echoes the stunts of some film seen years back...the sight of lovers tingles the senses with caresses of your lost love....the vision of some magnificent mansion arouses regrets for not being able to be inside...the darkness of a passerby's eyes makes you shudder at the thought of some unforgettably tenebrous night.....

And your mirrors of illussions shatter and you walk again...this time not floating in fantasies but treading on broken realities and a sardonic smile conquers your face as you realise the futility of your desprate searches...the prentenses of seeking freedom...the chains fastened hard to your soul everytime you claim to be free...and ahead on the road of life you walk...letting the one and the only truth seep in....that you can never be free....for whrever you go you carry your own burdens...a load you cannot shed...cages you cannot open...locks without keys....there is not a free soul on earth for no one can unbound oneself from the shackles of memories.........

BLACK.

So many hues...so many colours...
among them...black.
black,the shade of darkness,
the shade of nightmare,
the colur of death,
the colour of myth.


black,the splatter of night,
the robe of blind sight.
the colur of stony eyes,
the colur of artifice.

black,the mood of the last fight,
the trembling fright.
the flavour of the exasperated sigh,
the tone of the long goodbye.

black,the passing hour,
the creepy waxy tar.
the asleep baby's cries,
the guilt of a pure conscience.

black,the sorrows platter,
a whore's character.
a maniac's fears,
a war widow's tears.

black,the king of the subconscious,
the madness of the mongring menace.
a woman's needs,
a politician's deeds.

black,the long forgotten past,
the obsolete wheels turning fast.
the colour of anger,
the hollow bells of danger.

black,the lurking pain,
the regretted disdain.
the flesh churning in the grind,
the emptiness of the mind......

He or Us within......

He is alone,
but He is brave,
He will survive,
but He has no bread....
He can walk,
but there r no roads.
He can plant a seed,
and He can let it grow....
but it takes long,
as the growth is slow.
He can heal
and He can kneel
but He is tired
and He needs rest...
We dint give Him a chance,
so He is dead.....

He is Us
and We are Him
and He lives on,
for We cant Die...
confusion treads in,
He can survive ,
if We let Him.
and He can win,
if We let him....
He will say
that We have Him,
He will dream,
and We will see.
We will talk,
and He will think.......

but He will be gone
if We dont trust,
and winds will blow,
and We will be lost.
remember He cant swim,
but We can drown........

I AM ?????

Iam the sorrow at the corner of the room,
Iam the yell in the middle of the crowd,
Iam the soul awaiting its doom,
Iam the irish stumpy and stout...

Iam the bullet in the gun
Iam the leaf on the ground,
Iam the stranger on the run,
Iam the wolf blood hound...

Iam the tear in every eye,
Iam the explosion and anger,
Iam the dead star of the sky,
Iam the guardian of danger...

Iam the the warm liquor trickling down ur throat,
Iam that half burnt cigar,
Iam the saviour of ur drowning boat,
Iam the voice distant and far...

Iam the lady adored and respected,
Iam the whore used and discarded...

Iam the crimson blushing bride,
Iam the widow with dried tears,
Iam the current against the hungry tide,
Iam the maniac's unknown fears...

Iam thehelpless and the brave,
Iam the shield and the sword,
Iam the master and the slave,
Iam the inaudible loving word...

Iam the the ruler and destiny's slave,
Iam the guilty voice within,
Iam the flowers scattered on the grave,
Iam the unattempted sin...

Iam the master of the puzzle,
Iam the crack in the glass,
Iam the light falling falling drizzle,
Iam the humanity,scanty and sparse...

Iam the blot and the grace,
Iam the crutches of the lame....
But Iam the one one without a face.....
And Iam the one without a name................

The empty house has been occupied again. The lights shine there and voices so very human make the air heavy as they flow to reach my ears... There is a sense of bustle,of activity, of haste...where a few days back there was just the settled dust,torn curtains and darkness... things change...now there are green leaves with glistning dew drops and the flicker of a phosphorous light, like the sunbeams dancing, rising and dying in the eyes of stone......

And whenever I peep into this once hollow, now echoed in attic,a shiver runs through my form... Almost a tinkle of expectation,of this negetive anticipation that my past will rise up from these breathing bricks...that dust will swing into an avalanche so living,that cobwebs would whisper,and the torn curtains would rustle like breath... The sound of a bride's wedding dress trailing behind her....and there would it be...rising up from the ashes like a phoenix.......

this polychromasm of mind creases my soul everytime i look through the window of my empty room... And all my soothings to my soul that this deamon of past days shall sleep and no morning bells shall awaken it are washed over by this void... This empty black hole with the knowledge that this whirlpool of memories shall never leave you...it shall trail behind u...like a snail...like a bride's wedding gown..........