The Pine Trees

They reach out towards the blue sky, sometimes crystal clear, sometimes cloudy and sometimes dark in the days like night. 

Hold the earth firmly with their roots, embracing mountains. Stand tall at the edges of the roads, winding like a serpent around the hills.

Loaded with beautiful cones hanging from branches like earrings worn by  Goddess Nature.  

With their intoxicating distinct smell, they embody beauty and sturdiness at the same time.The stark straight trunks of the trees, visually endow strength to the mind and heart.

Pine trees, make one acknowledge how one can brave all hardships and still  stay strong, firm and flourish if they have the support.

Support of the environment around them, their soil, their climate, their air, their temperature and how we need to preserve all. 

Just like humans, if they have the social support, they thrive, they prosper, they live with better morals, values and stronger character and it all needs to be taught and preserved.

Resurrection

The sky  descended upon the paddy fields, resurrecting the earth with a kiss from heaven.

Luxury

Looking at the western sunlight of the setting Sun, I wonder, 

no matter how the day has been, 

this time of the evening never disappoints. 

Enjoying the daily show of the burning red Sun,

dipping behind the buildings,

from the luxury of the dining room,

I wonder, if this is all that I want.

Be free

Be free,

like the air, the sunshine, the river.

Take a leap of faith, do not fear.

Great! If you are caught by someone.

Otherwise, get up on your own.

Do not be made invalid by pain.

Of loss or failure or rejection.

Try standing up on your feet.

For life to let you fairly treat.

Free your heart from expectations.

Do not be bound by limitations.

You can surely touch the sky.

Only if you would let yourself try.

 

Rewinding

Resetting the clock of routine, in a village.

Rewinding, revisiting how it used to be.

Childhood memories springing up.

Refreshing walks amidst the fields.

The fragrant smell of wet mud.

Encountering the familiar but forgotten odors.

Greens, till the eyes can see, yellow of mustard like sunshine.

Tall symmetrically planted trees creating fascinating geometrical patterns.

The simple food made with utmost care and love.

Stray pups running in the narrow lanes.

Beautiful calves, staring curiously at the passersby. 

Life seems to slow down here, the traffic, the noise, nowhere.

Chirping of birds occasionally disturbed by the sound of tractors.

Time seems to pause here and conciousness of being, jerked forward.

The good poet

A good poet writes poetry for everyone, still,
writes as if you are the one being talked to.
As if the words on the paper are meant  just for you.
As if the emotions are only for you to be felt.
The love,the longing, the pain the heartbreak all for you.

Who writes like you are being held in an embrace tightly.
As if you are safe inside the blanket of the woven poem.
As if the world spins around only for you.
The life, the lessons, the gratitude, the prayers all for you.

It's like magic! uplifting people, giving them hope.
Making them look forward to another day,
waiting for life to keep happening,
In a brand new way.

Winged Visitors

Red-billed blue Magpie.


What joy the couple gave!
When they came visiting.
In the times of social distancing,
accepting the offering of strawberries.

Photography Credits Go To Meenakshi Bakhshi.

Thoughts in captivity.

Holding my thoughts captive for a while,
for they are different from other's.

Like the Shrew, they need to be tamed,
till they learn to be more obedient.

Kept in captivity, till they refine,
learn to gracefully merge with society's norms.

Will set them free, when they can mimic pretence,
 will be able to pass on as acceptable, with ease.

Sleeplessness

Sometimes, late into the night, when nothing works, I music myself to sleep.

Earphones in the ears, at a gentle volume, the velvety voice of the singer, slowly stirs sleep into the veins.
The drums beat with the heart. The strings unstring the nerves.
The piano sedates the  reluctant sleeplessness, into the world of dreams.

Words slowly start slipping away from conscienceness, melody  breaks up as mind starts to doze.
Random thoughts swim incoherently, in and out of awareness.
Like the touch of an angel, worries, restlessness starts dissolving.

The silence of the night is wiped away, the loudness of the active brain dulled.
Eyes refuse to open again, finally sleep embraces, bringing the day  and night to an end.

The Monsoon sky

 Bluest of blues, the true blue. Trustworthy and loyal. A Royalty. Mixed with purity of white. The Monsoon sky.

Pre monsoon-4

Monsoon is round the corner, when you can hear peacocks  screaming, first thing in the mornings, instead of cuckoos singing.

When ants work persistently and can be seen rushing to their hills.
When the Sun plays hide and seek throughout the day with the clouds.

When bolt of lightning cracks its whip without any rain.
When winds are stronger and blow away the dark grey clouds.

When all the old leaves have already fallen off and new ones start growing.
When the cracked Earth sizzles upon receiving an abrupt short shower.

When people remember to carry umbrellas to work but forget to bring them back home.

When the farmers scan the sky everyday and hope for the right amount of rain.

To the young adult

They say, your inner thoughts are your most loyal friends.
Inspiring you, motivating you, giving you strength to carry on.

Unfortunately, they are your most dissuading foes too.
Discouraging you, demotivating you, sucking the strength out of your life.

Control your own thoughts for you can't control others'.
Instill positivity in your own mind, for you can't remove negetivity from others'.

let your own thoughts guide you, let the light inside your heart shine through.
Don't give others the power to penetrate your soul.

People are people, some love, some hate, some are calmly indifferent.
Their words, their actions should not be given precedence over your own.

You are who you are, for you were meant to be like that.
Cherish yourself, value yourself, be your own ideal.

No one but you are the protagonist of the drama of your life.
Be happy, be peaceful and applaud yourself.

Summer bloom -4

Pomegranate bloom

The Seascape

Cool clouds embrace the warmth of the  setting Sun golden, turning the ocean to liquid molten.
White froth of the waves, slither on the golden sand, quenching its thirst again and again.

Coyly hiding within the descending dusk,  ever evasive horizon waits for the sky to rush.
To hold on to it one last time before they merge, for a while, later to diverge.

Last impression of the Sun floats on the ocean like gold, time slips away quietly, difficult to hold.
Sunshine withers away slowly, fading the sight,  can hardly fathom the beholder's  immense delight.

Dusk finally descends, engulfing sky and horizon as one. When one cannot be made out from another.
Only Dawn has the magical key to separate them again. When the Sunlight ignites the sky and ocean, and boundaries remain...till dusk again.

                                      Photo Credits Go To Shaishav Agarwal

Chasing time- 2

That time of year is here. Nostalgia personified. Time to count blessings, looking back and pondering what all happened. What all could not happen and what all could have happened.

As if it were just yesterday, the same day, the same time. Same flowers blooming, same migratory birds nesting, same temperature, rain, snow, chill in the air.

Like a flash it went by! Every wish sent to people, like it was written yesterday. The same parties, thankfully  surrounded by the same people. Some new additions surprisingly seeming like old acquaintances. Same cheer in the atmosphere.

Same emotions wreaking havoc. The same homeless, cold people on the roads stirring deep emotions within the soul. Same sense of helplessness, restlessness and pain.

Same sense of joy and pride watching your children grow. Love, companionship amongst young and old in the family. Same sense of gain when a new member arrives in the family. The extreme sense of loss felt like a huge void, everytime remembering those lost.

Years passing by, one at a time but like on a speedboat, zooming past. Memories merging into each other like a dream, senselessly mixing people , events from past and present together.

Like a joyride, rollercoaster years, same posts, photos, comments, likes on the social media. The decorated Christmas trees, the dancing , singing , drinking, New Year's Eve parties. Identical situations yet...

The year is brand new, time lapsed, 12 months gone, countless breaths drawn. Mind absorbing pain and pleasure like a sponge. Countless moments lost, countless moments acquired. Bonds formed and broken, relationships strengthened, weakened.

The familiarity of "Sameness" embracing in comfort. The excitement of unknown giving sense of adventure. Family, friends giving  love, hope and the strength to go on. Go on chasing time!

Love is...

Love is...
Like the air, invisible, untouchable but paramount to life.
An emotion, a void filled, completeness, paramount to happiness.

It is...
A feeling, a whisper, a simple touch, paramount to survival.
Like a fantasy, an imagination, a dream, paramount to ambition.

Love is...
Family, friends, a society, paramount to continuation.
Celebrations, festivals, customs, paramount to joy.

It is...
Like a soul within a body, otherwise just muscles, bones, blood and nerves.
Love is paramount to existence.

September-2

The sky is getting clearer, clouds beginning to disperse with winds of change.

The wind is getting cooler, Sun beginning to shine more often over the mountain range.

Days and evenings not somber anymore, grays converting into vibrant landscapes.

Wetness drying up, no more downpours, colours popping up like lady's drapes.

Relief from heat, break from the rains. Seems like the Earth is ready to exhale.

September

Bunches of red, contrasting with greens of leaves.
Little flower umbrellas, sheltering insects from grieves.

Cool September breeze, giving respite from the heat.
Making flowers blossom, getting ready for Autumn greet.

Veteran leaves turning yellow, saying goodbyes, ready to let go.
Magic of Autumn hiding within each fold, forests waiting to transform in motion slow.

History

History, peeping coyly through the windows of far forgotten forts, palaces and temples.
Doubtful of how it is remembered, how it is twisted, how it is altered to attract and serve tourism.

Looking with pride at the palaces and forts standing their ground for centuries.
Awed by the river that once embraced and blessed all, now swallowing sins of people. Worshipped, for soul cleansing, while choking her.

Remembering the tenderness with which the sculptors chiselled each design. Caressing, worshipping each goddess they carved out of stone.
Recalling the rustle of the silk skirts of Queens, following their feet. Soft, tender, adorned with heavy tinkling anklets.


The reverbrating sound of the brass bell at the entrance of the temple. Recollecting the fragrant, colourful flowers she offered  with her eyes closed and soul awake, pure, in reverence.

Remembering the blinding reflection of swords shining mercilessly in the first light of the Sun.
The Sun, the sword's metal and water of river turning into gold alike.

How it was, how it is remembered now. How was it written by whom? How it was kept true and intact, how it was changed!

History, like an old lady remembers helplessly, peeping through the windows of palaces, forts and temples.

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