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Thursday, April 26, 2007

OF A FREE BIRD...

ek svachand panchii ke par-on mein chipa aasmaan ka vistaar
yatharth ki dor se pare....aseemit aakankshaaon ka aadhaar...



of a free bird...liberated , undeterred,
of the wings of freedom ..unending, untethered,
the eternal romance of flight with the skies..
the indefinite equation where no boundary applies..
the sacred forbidden route to a chaos now identified
the weird shape of the cloud of thought forever justified
the journey with no promise to return
the care without motive or concern
of a flow , an inundated movement
independent , unbound, resurgent
of a lost sense of what "ought" ,
of an ecstasy of a choice since forever sought
of words that melt held notions,
that challenge hidden questions...fuel discussions..
on a vast canvas in a stretch of infinite dimension,
a newly painted interpretation that seeks no affirmation
of a flood that enriches as it engulfs in entirety
of a deep bond not corrupted by a displayed affinity..
of a thoughtless love...of a thoughtful solitude
of a victory celebrated..with a loser's attitude
of letting go all caged and imprisoned in the self somewhere.
no more the nervous glance..now a piercing stare
abandoning questions ..an elopement with the answers
to forget the words that formed ...to appreciate the jumbled letters
to experience an inner revolt ; to be wary of acceptance
to turn back and, with pride, reject the inviting entrance
for once..to follow the inner steps with closed eyes
to let go of reality for the imagination that flies..
to visit her land...to know her soul
to begin the journey.. to forget the goal
to borrow some dreams from her again
to speak in my own language..without having to explain
to see everything as she dictates
as my shackled expression she liberates
across her..beyond her
to..conquer , to..surrender
in the whirlpool of a comforting illusion
in the long awaited flight for migration
of my first desire..of my last will
of an escapade with freedom.. of the nascent thrill
a melting dream of wax wings...carefully moulded and sintered...
the first flight to the blazing sun...of a free bird ..

Monday, April 16, 2007

THE FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND..

like the unnoticed continuous rhythm of breath in each passing moment,
like the quiet monotonous acceptance of each nameless event,
like the inability to distinguish between the voluntary and the fated,
like the forgotten description of what you had once owned and created ,
like the dance steps that cease to define movement,
like the similarity forcibly assigned to the widely different ,
like the order imposed without a rebellion,
like the prosaic alikeness of all of a million..
like the music that has a dull harmony without a soul,
like the pendulum that oscillates without a particular goal.
like a stuck chord ;like a frozen drop
like a marathon walk; like a sudden stop
like an unfamiliar comfort in a dull similitude,
like a nonchalance smeared over a thinker's attitude
like an unsaid agreement with circumstance,
to float and live in a self chosen instance
like the frozen expression of a portriat to keep
like the unrest in emotions sent to a cosy sleep
like a thought arrested ;like the past visited
like a little present ;like the many gifted
like a bit of yesterday like a bit of today
like all together...the same..everyday
like the definition of average ..
like an unexplained bondage
like discovering an identity in being lost
like the comforting numbness of a winter frost
like a stillness not followed by disaster
like a tomorrow that will want no answer
like a direction beyond identification
like a journey without destination
like lots of thoughts sans organisation
like a chronic disease that eludes prescription
like a strange locking into a shy stability
like a surprising pact with adaptability
like an innocent laughter without derision
like a complacence inspite of a blurred vision
like the unwilling slow movement towards an impending change
like the settling into an odd warmth..unknown and strange
like a contentment without purpose and form
like the heaviness in the air before a storm
like an insecurity masked in resignation
like a half-heartedly conquered apprehension
like leaving for the waters ..away from your land...
like looking back...in a thoughtful glance... at the footprints in the sand..

Saturday, April 07, 2007

IN A LITTLE BASKET..

each day..I knew it was going some new way..
I wondered if I could hold on time...I wondered if it could stay..
I somehow remember again today..
how a part of me..to it I gave away..
the first gift..I dared to give..
the first wait..I chose to live..

painting a soiled canvas or dressing a scar,
admiring the petals of a crushed flower.
vulnerability of power
thirst that preceeds a long awaited shower
smile that mocks pain
helplessness that struggles in vain
folds in a crushed paper ...which can never be erased
the crisp originality of first dreams..that reality never brazed..
the first cautious step ...the insecurity in confidence,
the excitement to begin walking...the weakened self defence
in the expanse of my palm..to collect and hold tight..
my most precious treasures..my wrong and right..
a million words , carefully chosen
a dried leaf ...of that winter season
my sketches in time,
my first nursery rhyme,
my notes on life...dated long back,
my dreams , my beliefs...from that sacred stack..
my sea-shells ...my bedtime stories and tales,
my coloring book..my collection of old cards and mails.
the pitter patter of a someday rain ,
the rhythm of a faraway passing train
steps carved out in wet soil,
"wrapped"... a part of me in a silver foil...
I dedicated all this...I put it in a little basket ...
to the flow of the stream i then gave forever..my treasured casket..
no assurance, no confirmation
but I still wait ...in sheer anticipation..
an isolated untarnished optimism demands of me..
to trust that in the turbulent waters...a reflection of myself I shall someday see..
I wonder if it even remembers or thinks..
as deeper each day..my hope and my casket sinks..
I do not seek a forced retrieval..
I do not want a deliberate recital
But someday..I want it back..untouched preserved
my submission of self...that the waters never deserved...