Monthly Archives: October 2016

The Safe Vault (1754)


 

Fascinated I am
not by a painting of Van Gogh,
but by an iron safe, year:1754.

Funny, isn’t it to like one
so huge, and sturdy.
Its ruggedness is exquisite.

The charm lies in its structure,
firm and impenetrable.
It has many secret chambers;
its keyholes, visible and invisible,
improves security and invites scrutiny.

The motifs on the door, the brass handles,
the emblem with the words
“Dieu Et Mon Droit” (God And My Right),
supported by a lion and a horse
extend pride to its stature.

I longed to buy one.
Protégé Ramu
saw not one, but two.
He promises to buy them
for an unbelievable price,
much higher than what
I would have offered.

I probe, check, cross verify.
Is the seller related to Ramu?
must be for some reason
he is in a hurry.
I pester him. Vexed,
at one stage, he bursts out
Amma, vendam enral solli vidunga
Amma, If you think like this
you are not going to buy them”.

Suspicion is not the better
part of my nature.
I trail. I derail.
Ramu makes up
for my indecisiveness.
He concludes the deal
knowing my penchant for antiques
and my fleeting indignation.

Now, I own impregnable safes.
Do I go with Bertrand Russell?
“In the modern world the stupid
are cocksure while the intelligent
are full of doubt.”

 

The Eclectic


To see  a World  in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 
And Eternity in an hour.
— William Blake

I go not to the temple
to worship.

Around me,
the trees large and small
are a  splendour.
The tall ones
seem to reach the sky.
The broad,to
encompass horizon.
I bow.

Before me,
the flowers plain and small
cast a spell.
A bud unfurls in a gradience
as the petals elongate.
The fragrance spreads.
The bees visit.
I prostrate.

Besides me,
the meadows stretching far.
The greenery enthralls.
Blades of grass thin and sharp
flutter in the sun,
the humility overwhelms.
I pray.

Rena Calls.


A friend of mine,
Rena be her name
would say
it is not far, very near
only a stone throw,would
goad me through
make me walk a mile
not a distance short.

She will tell with ease,
it is only worth a penny
not of value. She would pick.
and show me the artefacts
being chaste and aesthetic
enamoured, I buy
the pieces worth many pennies.

Such is her charm,
the way she speaks
enlivens and entertains.
She is great and spirited
not in the mere words
Grace and poise are hers,
succeeds in all attempts
A winner she is always.

A Quarrel


This is beyond comprehension,
could be a misapprehension- a quarrel.

Not among countries
over a dispute of land, but a lasting quarrel.

Not among races
around differences, but a dirty quarrel.

Neither between communities
relating to rituals, but a disquietening quarrel.

Nor between the groups
connoting to the religious practices, but a disturbing quarrel.

Being the most common one
associated with the couple, an ideological quarrel.

Being very frivolous in terms
involving the least reasons, a clandestine quarrel.

Happens day in and day out
lasts for months and years, the perennial quarrel.

A clash of the ego, a conflict of the minds
expressed substantially in this unwanted quarrel.

The child  caught in between stays. harmed
an unnecessary evil cast  by this ignominious quarrel.

Over The Blue


The skip and the hop of the moon
over the blue, the night before,
evolved a strange phenomenon.

The run and dive of the sun,
over the blue, the day before,
garnered a sensitivity not of fun.

The tornado and its fury,
over the blue, the day before,
was a precursor to an anomaly.

The unusuality caused a calamity,
one of a kind, akin to the Tsunami,
a remnant of the day of the great deluge,
gobbling the life and the lifeless in entirety.

 

 

Before I Could


Before I could realize
my hair has turned shiny.
The darkness is seen no more,
silver overwhelms.

Before I could withstand
my legs start to wobble.
The steadiness has given way,
I am let down.

Before I could recall
my memory goes wandering.
Forgetfulness has taken over,
I am clueless.

Before I could focus
my eyes play truant.
Long and short, they dictate,
I grope in the darkness.

Before I could endure
my physique takes its wings.
A fall followed by a straightening,
I walk my way.

Before all these in the roll,
I was cherubic.
When was it? I ponder.
Oh! those days, those days…
No more of them, I cry.