Evolution or Devolution

The euphoria about a house
 built by a rich man a decade ago,
 pictures highlight its grandeur,
 the floors 40 in all
 with three helipads,
 gardens, car parks,
 ball room, banquet
 kitchens, bedrooms, 
make one raise the eyebrows
 not out of awe  anyway.

It is his privacy, his wealth 
allows such extravaganza
not any of a concern 
to the ordinary who 
wants a roof over the head
the latter will pass the area 
without curiosity, least admire. 
An unnecessary painting
 by the media  which 
does not inspire but  distract   
the otherwise contented mind.


Passing Through The woods

It is a way into the woods
where silence seems
to be the only
one seen and felt

As I walk through
the dense forests
I espy the huge trees
nestled close

allowing no light
to pass. They appear
to hold each other firmly
throwing out a proximity

which pronounces a bondage
as if one will not
let down the other
whatever be the outcome.

The togetherness creates
a warmth, a cordiality
allowing no anxiety

Each one seems to tell
the other ” I am there for you,
no worries”. Admiring
the oneness, I stroll

through the thickest areas
where the magnitude
of affability overwhelms
where contentment rules.



Getting up at 2 in the morning
brooding over the day’s events.
 I  sense a dull pain in the legs 
symptomatic of restless 
leg syndrome.  Straighten 
and twist the leg
 that most hurts. At times 
 let out a sob. An hour 
passes the clock strikes 
3 and then 4,  Listening 
to the tick tock 
I stare in the dark,
 Silence unfolds. 



The Input And Output

It is as though
I am passing through
a storm.

I feel being ambushed
the winds and rains
confine me .

An experience I have
never undergone,
a bit crucial.

The heart pounds
as the rains rage
with a vengeance.

The shiver down
the adrenaline
knocks me down

like the hurricane
dashing on the
window panes.

I sense an exasperation,
a throw out, a deceit
somewhere behind,

encompasses, places
me in a situ, a dilemma,
The winds blow unabated,

hard to regain composure
I watch the external fury in fear
while the internal tears me apart.


It Is Called Life

It is been a contradiction 
 a meaningless one,
 just being with each other 
 creates a frustration
 bringing a dissatisfaction.

Tempers rise up with 
tempestuous acceleration
 books fly, cups dash  on the wall,
throwing tantrums at each other 
the couple  swear  not to see  each other.

Like the dew the controversy 
vanishes in the morning.
The day dawns, off each goes  
on their way with smile writ large,
life turns meaningful again.


It Is You

an allegation
slung at me
every day with anger.

“It is always you”
an accusation
targeted at me
each day with hatred

” it is because of you”
a kind of admonition
holds me aghast
all days.

“The opportunities
that would have come
have fizzled out
because of you”, he screams,

is it me? really me
who owes responsibility
for his debacle, as he quoths,
both in transparent and latent,

It is his his mind the creator
of all troubles I see
nothing other, he is prejudiced.
I do not know the reason.


Day In And Day Out

the phrase hooks me.
Right from school, 
where my teachers 
sighing used to say 
day in and day out 
we tried our best.

That keeps ringing 
in my ears as does 
the school bell
manually operated 
 by Krishna, the one
who was assigned 
to pull the long

Another synonymous 
delivery is that of 
the temple bell which 
strikes to the accompaniment 
of “Om, Om, ” , The sound 
reverberates as each pillar 
resound the sacred chant.

Day in and day out, as I see,  
we work, bathe, eat, 
envisage  no change
 in the regular. Monotony
 settles , Life moves on without
 a kick,  an accomplishment 


Not Anymore

The growing anger
hooks me . Seething
at the atrocities, those of
who wield their power.

and at the ones who
show off their wealth.
practise inequality,
nurture racism,

blast at whoever
comes in front of me.
unmindful of their stature
and status.

Let things go as destined,
the placidity, I derived
from the mountains
which stand aloft.

sustaining, harsh winds,
heavy rains, never once
allowing any such
to hamper her magnificence.

As the carbonate ddrink
pops out with a noise
when uncorked.
I shout, scream,

till my voice is lost.
Even after, I tremble
with anger cursing
the inhuman behaves.


Disaster Syndrome

The swarm of bees
the batallion of insects
the herd of worms
come from nowhere
cling to the rose plant
stick on it so firm
as if held together
by a bond.

The plant being fecund
heavy with flowers and buds
quivers and quavers, struggles
to escape from the fastening
failing which it bows to pressure
the flowers droop
the petals fall down
the buds shrink.

The bees suck the nectar
the insects allow
none near the plant
the worms eat the roots
causing an havoc unprecedented.
The rose plant, stands
helpless alike the one
caught in an ambush,

The helplessness is striking
Can one identify the pandemic
which one encounter?. Apprehension
creates a dilemma. The withdrawals
being the bees, the agony likened
to the insects, the annihilation
synonymous of the worms,
humanity acquires the tedium
of the rose plant,


The Uninterrupted Flow

The river bends 
 flows with a chatter
 the hyacinths float
 while the fish swim
 in glee.

The cranes dive in
 bury their long necks
enabling the beaks 
to pick  the fat worms 
and  gleaming fish.

The frogs down there 
croak and cry  unpleasantly
 hopping up and down
the tadpoles following 
 in a queue.

There comes the fisherman
 carrying  a long hook 
  and a close knit net
 throws them to catch 
the sparkling ones.

The river flows along
unperturbed by the bustle 
streams  steadily making 
beautiful turns and twists
a sight to adore.