in pursuit of…

Square was the mind.
sharp edges, rough
too different.
the world was smooth, round, curvy.
no place for the mind.
the heart… had no shape.
only beats, to let the world know
it is there…somewhere.
the world was happy, busy, loud.
no time for the heart.
wandering mind met the heart
on its way
to find a place,
on its way
to hell…
to seek god. or to ask anyone.
so the story goes, they say,
mind lost its shape
heart found it
and the price, nothing….
just to lose their
souls….
nothing…well almost.
so lost they are.
still hidden. no one knows where…
to seek god. or to ask anyone.
or to be sought. who knows.
the world was happy, busy, loud.
i was happy, busy, loud……
i was the world ….


the lost mind… rhythms from the past

Rabindranath said that past memories are always of happiness…
(pardon my poor effort of translation). Now i got a glimpse of that
while going through the pains of forced introspection of life for the
only thing that matters now (for the uninitiated, these are called
resume points :D, and so sad that is ). I found a yellow piece of paper,
half-torn with two short poems (If i may call them that) scribbled on
it. And behold, there is my signature beneath (the egoist i am ). almost
fifteen years ago and poor english. But you know what Tagore said. so,
where else than to keep those preserved than here……


A Few Words of A Flower

I was a flower / of a tree
Many bees came to collect / honey from me.
Butterflies came to me / to play on lute
Other insects came also / to play flute.
In my childhood, when / i was little
Also that time i had / scent a tittle.
But one day, I fell / on the earth,
That time i thought about / the time of birth.


Sun and Moon

The moon gives us light/ at time of the night
but the sunshine is brighter / than the moonlight.
Why moon gives us light / I don’t know
why sun gives us shine/ do you know ?
Darkness comes after / sun set
i never see the sun / to late.
Sun and moon are / two brothers
and the stars are / the others.
Sun begins his work with / ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’
They are the prisoners of sky / like the beast of zoo.


that is me fifteen years ago….  not good , not bad, but
a mind of my own… now in the process of losing it….

this is his story…

i met a man once
he was from our world
you know the kind…..
hopelessly romantic, eyes dreamy
tides after tides of noises in his heart,
yet silent.
this is his story….
he loved a girl from the other world
you know that kind too…
more beautiful than the word can ever mean,
talking like whisper in dreams
smile to die for.
so, my man died for that smile.
well, that’s not the end of the story
this is just the beginning, he said
the beginning of another saga
to know that dreams
are just that…dreams
sometimes.
and he said, so long
my friend…
and vanished… in the darkness
left me wondering
the end of the story…..
but you know,
this is his story….