Archive for the year 2017:

heartbeat


up in dead of night
i hear the fast thud
of our home’s heartbeat

walls titter coming alive
argumentatively comparing
their framed fripperies

stairs
creak and moan
for attention
..
then as my heartbeat
fills my throat i hear soft
footfalls descending…..

our evenly pulsing
walls made vibrant and
alive by us during daytime
..
come night fall
turn mysterious
gripped by shadows

I hear their heartbeat
loudly thumping
under cover of night
..
stillness of my “me” time
is thus rent by staccato
pounding of my own heartbeat

I feel you

when sun
gently kisses
swaying leaves
making them glow
I experience you
..
upon carefully treading
uneven cobblestones
I espy a tiny slug sliding
unhurriedly..am filled
with the wonder of you

I can wax lyrical.. string poems
with emotional lows highs finely
nuanced even now ..but my
addicted soul craves a hit from
the pure opium that is you
..
I glance at trees…aimlessly
wandering in fields..taking nibbles
of exquisitely colored skies overhead
and upon seeing earth in downward dog
poses called mountains …I get recharged
..
let me again feel ..delight in your tiny
soft palm reassuringly curling in mine like
it did long time ago.. let’s babble in toddler talk
once again …allow me this amazing grace my blue
beloved before these maternal sands finally run out

when sun
gently kisses
swaying leaves
making them glow
I experience you
..

tingles

re-living tingles
that’d vibrated
core to pores
I again glance at The Black
Madonna of Montserrat
Barcelona..
feeling awed
and blessed all over again …
….two days ago same tingles had
traversed in body upon feasting
my seeker eyes on the majesty
of Lord Ganesha’s form in ebony
ensconced in stately
splendor inside Flushing
New York temple
and joy had washed
over sore joints
as pain receded returning
me to the shores of holy river
Ganges where one dip
had burst open my head
chakra making me giddily
ecstatic….
such is
the amazing
grace
of my
blue
beloved
..

woe is me !

.

out of sync mind
wants body to chew
overly much….as only thing
intact is my pearly white set
resulting in much to do
in pains and aches
in hitherto newer spots
“morosely” in intermittent
dots and dashes
..
why can’t
my monkey
mind behave
as it behooves folks
my age with beastly
bodies proverbially flinging
wrenches in my harebrained
capers as planned and ruefully
executed …
..
energies spent.. life partner
lies supine trying to regain
usual bounce and smile
…beset with guilt I query
why is it you get more tired
when accompanying me as you
walked miles yesterday returning
home with wall to wall smiles?
..
he replied: you see
interminable steps do me in.. ..
walking for me is a breeze..even
better after couple of drinks
only slopes and steps
make me wheeze
now truly repentant
i slink away without
a peep
..

Amritsar memories …

Starry Night Drawing by Van Gogh

 

Beyond five star hotel’s wildest claims
a freshly made bed under myriads of stars
Is that priceless neck piece highlighting childhood’s
precious pearls strung in memory’s summers
Lying face up awed by glowing clusters overhead
chatter of whispered juicy gossip would fade and we’d
try to name the constellations rolling their names in Hindi
/ Punjabi and then comfortably in English
staccato whistling bursts from nearby railway lines
would puncture night’s cool quietude adding to it’s
choir of sound bytes intoned by three generations
as they settled down during torrid summer’s nights
…loving diamonds in the sky overhead I equally enjoyed
the light and dark patterns thrown in relief as crafted
by errant rays as they hit the pygmy grilled roof walls
rising from knee high concrete mosaic patterned
platforms in the roof for comfortable viewing
another purpose served was for lazily lowering empty rattan baskets with cash for buying freshly baked sweet rolls lathered in homemade butter as morning snacks with teas from the much sought baker who covered all the souks and by-lanes hawking his mouthwatering flavorful goods…
we’d always be on the lookout for him and with swift feet run down the stairs from the roof halting only when feet landed on the wooden platform next to grandpa’s stoop steps as we sat dangling our feet ..tiny mouths drooling in sweet anticipation eager for those aromatic freshly baked rolls… I can still sense that unique aroma as it hit our childish nostrils melting in our mouths amidst cries of joy
… on the roof one corner of that low platform also held that ubiquitous family sized earthen water jug…if water can be termed delicious then that is how I recall it’s taste …a drink from that “surahii” jug..was pure manna made by co- mingling of hand pumped water and freshly kilned clay jug giving it that unique strong earthy flavor that could slake the thirstiest throat
….there are so many memories milling in my greying topper as I live day to day swaying in time’s past tense and present tense’s hammock utterly relaxed ..catching life’s straight and..curved balls in my serenity’s mitt ..fully cognizant of where I was and where I now am
..
images: google

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