Still Night

The clock strikes 10,
The stillness, the night 
turning pitch dark turns 
 me sleepy

Brushing aside the slumber
 I sit  staring at the sky
absolutely black 
with no stars twinkling.

it is great, I sense 
 a feel of tranquility 
a sort of peace, one 
of joy,

While the external  grows
 thicker in darkness
 an enlightenment  strikes 
 I straighten up in anxiety.

The perfect silence
instructs me to be modest,
 moderate, not to succumb
 to the chaotic bustle,I am in.  


Days And Months

Few days here 
few days there
  hits me hard,

been used to months 
living  in one country
rest in another,

months have turned to days
 shuttling here and there
 takes the life out of me

oscillating like a pendulum
 I switch places all the more
 reacting to the aching  jolts 

jostling with a fierce drive
 one of   an undying passion
 that makes me die almost.

the  fun I experienced
 becomes a desperation
resulting in an undue fatigue.

Well,  this being  the  life of mine 
for decades, I cross 
the years with an expectation,

a little close to  success 
leading to a satisfaction
 and joy beyond explanation.



The day drawing to a close 
leaves me in chaos.
Knowing not what to do next
 I put forth a pretext.

Camouflaging my ignorance
I  show up my preference
being the one for  peace
allowing   a fresh lease.

Circumscribing  to the situation
 hatred converges with desperation
each one accusing the other in a row
could have lead to  fierce blows,

My intervention dispels intimidation
in a way proposes an hasten
to quell the confusion
arising out of contention.

Receiving applauds for my task
 I walk quietly into the dark
wishing an anonymity as always.



The swing in the garden
 left unattended years together
 creaks and croaks  as the wind blows.,
 not being oiled and wiped for long.

Gone are the days when it used to be the pride
 swinging  with head held high 
up and down it flew in speed
 making the least noise.

One day a fluffy cat cuddles 
 slips into slumber as the swing
 oscillates gently,  The swing adjusts 
a meek acceptance anyway.

The next day, I find a flock of birds
 perched on either side
cackling and chirping 
dropping excreta  everywhere.

The coveted swing hosts 
 different species extending 
a let go attitude,  The virtue learnt
 in the most hardest means.




Brewing Assam grown tea  leaves
mixing with boiled cow’s milk
 fresh from the farm
adding  2 teaspoons of sugar
 I serve.

I see the steam from the cup
rising steady, being  so hot
 makes sipping impossible.
Having done, I attend to 
 my other chores.

This being in the morning, and 
at four in the evening,
I am beckoned. A warning, I receive.
 “remember, to give me 
hot tea”, 

Surprised at the instruction, 
I throw a sharp look at him,
 he being no other than 
my husband,  I resolve 
to wheel the stove 

to where he is and prepare 
tea, even then he would 
complain. That is how 
I am treated with no concern 
or consideration.



 The  gifts of gold plated roses,,
baskets  of  Palmyra  leaves, wooden 
play  things. may seem different,
unusual from what the  majority 
 engage,  I might appear insane 

My eccentricity surfaces while
I explain the significance,
Rose symbolizes endurance
as it sits over thorns,. The 
soft petals remain unharmed.
The hard sheaths of Palmyra
twisted and turned  creating a pattern,
appropriate for  a basket, a hand made fan,
talk of sustainability. as the tree 
survives even in drought.

The forgotten  games
 played on the wooden 
make over  illustrate 
the natural forms 
causing no harm

both to the environment 
and the participants,  unlike the 
rubber and plastic ones.
demonstrate  mental
agility, a perfection 
in arithmetic.

I hear people giggle 
behind me,  unfazed
I go about with my  practice
each occasion  demands
a characteristic endowment.


Wish To Be Like You

A cuckoo calls every morning
 hearing her cry incessantly
 articulates ” Meena, Meena”
I open my eyes reluctantly,

Unable to bearher cry  I shout 
“coming,,coming”,  gathering myself
I descend the stairs., walk straight 
into the garden,

I see through the hedges,
 look through the branches
 trying  desperately to find her
 fail to locate however much I attempt.

Her sharp solicitation permeates
 I replicate her call, she quickly responds
 without showing herself.  ” Oh! no!”
 I go to my newspapers..

read  the  day’s events,
pandemonium in the parliament,
 head on collision in the highway,
business propositions, investment opportunities

medals tally in Tokyo Olympics,
oblivious of the cuckoo. Folding 
the papers, I enter the parlour
 the shrill cry of the bird turns pronounced.

It continues through the morning,
listening to her on and off,  
 amidst my chores, I quietly
 sing, ” wish to be like you”.


The More Mundane I Turn

Every month it is the same
with bills coming in
salary to be paid
an exercise that 
will last through 
the first week,

Working like a clerk
I enter and check
 deduct the advances 
count the notes twice
fearing  that I will overpay 
by few hundreds.

Settling  quick
 I start my present month’s
 procurement, writing them
 in detail and entering them 
in ledgers, tallying input and output.
 the trial balance  is a trial.

it so happens, I flop  every time, 
either the credit  is excess
or else the debit 
outscores the credit. I do 
a vigorous check, finally
 land in a soup.

Life goes on  in such a way 
where every single expenditure 
has to be accounted  it is caution
that withholds my interest.
Never could  I spend as I like.
Wonder, if it is a curse.



A kind of feel 
hard to express
keeps me oppressed 
for hours.

It is a sort 
one that circles 
 a sensation of hunger

 physical and virtual
one leading to the other 
an emptiness in the stomach
a dejection of the mind.

Unable to withstand. 
the portfolios throb 
excite creating 
a void .

Wind like it blows
storms from within
bellows from without
 causing a natural calamity 

as seen in the external
 the damage to the internal 
turns  grave, far from retrievable 
a disaster predominant

 Mind craves for attention
 while the belly cries for food
 that being available in plenty 
 but lying insipid.

This day is largely  delirious
 a feverish trend accosts
 mangling the soul and the physic
 an existentialism  struggles to thrive.



it is a long day
tasks keep me occupied
from dawn to dusk,

Breathless I turn
sighing for rest scouting 
 for a place to relax and enjoy.

A place where I can sit
gazing at the  blue sky 
that alone, nothing more

That seems remote
 like the sky  far away
alluring and ebbing

simultaneously. akin to
building castles in the air
 groping for something

which is not there.. I am 
not zealous to reach 
the space. I require

solitude, To remain aloof 
from   know and unknown
it seems a wish out of reach.