Thursday, May 24, 2018

Reading The Cloud Messenger

Wasted by anguish
she would be lying on her bed of loneliness
drawing herself together on one side, 
seeming like the last sliver
of the waning moon on the eastern horizon. 
By my side her nights flew by
On winged moments in rapture's fullness; 
now they drag on, heavy with burning tears.
( Meghtadutam, Kalidasa)

May be it was the shape of his beloved's favourite beast
Bent down to butt a riverbed that inspired him to poesy.
May be it was the memory of his lover's sandalwood body
Or the grief of separation from her that made him sing so. 

Whatever the reason might have been for him to compose,
He thought of her long hair without adornments or flowers
Drawn together in a single sweep in the long absent months,
He sang this musical erotic message promising rejuvenation.

He thought of her beauty that made him err in his daily duties,
The early hours of the morning when he spent hours with her, 
Which he didn't want to forsake and plucked the holy lotuses,
Which he did before time just to get punished for one long year. 

When the rainclouds burst on her, he wants her to see his love
All written in the eight months of longing, just to be with her!

Pic Courtesy: Blog at wordpress

Thursday, May 17, 2018

For Marriage


As spring unfolds the dream of the earth,
May you bring each other's hearts to birth.

As the ocean finds calm in view of land,
May you love the gaze of each other's mind.

As the wind arises free and wild,
May nothing negative control your lives.

As kindly as moonlight might search the dark,
So gentle may you be when light grows scarce.

As surprised as the silence that music opens,
May your words for each other be touched with reverence.

As warmly as the air draws in the light,
May you welcome each other's every gift.

As elegant as dream absorbing the night,
May sleep find you clear of anger and hurt.

As twilight harvests all the day's color,
May love bring you home to each other.


John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

Monday, May 14, 2018


For a heart like this full of love for wandering in the serenest places on earth, each and every picture of natural beauty is an invite. The cascading waterfalls that astonish, the beautiful mountain-tops, the endless beaches and patches of green everywhere.

May be on a day like this, looking at this beautiful earth, I may not write a word but only sigh and think; for what to write about a work of art that is beautiful more than any word can describe. Yet I sit at home and dream of visiting all these wonderlands after looking at their pictures.

It might happen that one fine day, I will be able to wander as long as I please and as far as I please. But right now, the travels occur in dreams that carry me to these imagined places of delight.


Her heart is large enough
To hold you close to her;
For she is not of this world.

She is foolish in her ways;
Poundwise or pennywise;
For she is not of this world.

She didn't give me a staff
Nor a bag for my journeys;
For she is not of this world.

Nor enough to nourish me
Like the others did theirs.
For she is not of this world.

But she loved me enough
To let me learn by model
To learn lessons my way.


All I wanted was a book of recipes like yours
Like the one you kept like a hidden treasure,
On special occasions, you'd leave the kitchen
Smelling of spices, roast chicken and plum cake.

The wild shopping spree just before Christmas,
The cake-mixing at midnight done together,
The written recipes followed to the last line
The spontaneous tweaks to the plans that I make.

This book of magic is abandoned after this loss,
Though the Christmas flavours linger in the air,
Goodwill, happiness and merriment-the first time
I had celebrated Christmas with flavours at home.

The secret recipes, the love of wine and laughter
All are lessons that I have learnt from you, mom.

Saturday, May 12, 2018

Leaves in his hair

 Image result for leaves in his hair

The tiny yellow leaves in his grey hair made me feel a stange tenderness for him. To run my fingers through his hair and to feel a strange closeness that hit me like a thunderstorm, the first time I gazed into his eyes.

May be it was because he was waiting under the trees, may be because though he said he didn't wait much, but his eyes flickered with a strange delight when he heard my footsteps. When he looked up every time, it was like I could hear the roar of the thunderstorm.

I don't think I need much except this roar of the thunderstorm daily.

Summer Rains (for the same old muse)

There are no songs of the summer showers without you,
There is no summer tedium that doesn’t burst into rain,
When a good old love like ours is remembered in time,
When your wet hair and shiny eyes can bring a downpour. 

In that summer of uncertainties a billion decades back,
When it scorched and blazed into unquenchable fires,
We might have stood at the same crossroads unawares,
We might have been the chemistry that burnt a world.

Still, I remember how the songs burst into summer rains,
Still, I remember how you will never say what you want,
Probe me just to find out what I am thinking right now,
Yet not recognize may be it was about you that I thought.

The words remain concealed in our sacred spaces forever,
The few random lines of poetry that fails to give recompense.

Reading The Cloud Messenger

Wasted by anguish she would be lying on her bed of loneliness drawing herself together on one side,  seeming like the last sliver o...