The levels of color

 

The string is severed to terminate

As  myriad hues of the dreams fade

The flight of the paper amidst clouds

When it dazzles silently after grey rains

My colors reflect the vivid rainbow

Now the fall towards the muddy ground

With an eye on the rising colorful sky

While it is I who falls every now and then

The sky somehow appears to rise everytime

When it goes away so far from me

But my fall is  never a crash to ground

I hold myself to remain afloat as long

Sometimes I drag myself on the sky

Between her invisible layers of air

Just to live a few moments in the sky

Before the inevitable happens

Like one last long look at the castle

Before the pompous  surrender

The last flutter holding the clouds

Even when the wing is crippled

Memories , they suspend the time

The ruminating of past events

Even when truth stares us in the face

The knocking at a deaf man’s door

For the mind is full the past din

The levels of color to a blind eye

One blindfolded by prejudice.

 

Delhi

22.25 hrs

2167

11.7.24

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sprinkle dry

 

 

Amidst the flooding downpour

The meadows flush like drains

While their furrows are inundated

The slant of the foliage is evident

A result of heavy adulation from skies

Like the praise of a fascinated lover

Fills the beauty with an  unfounded vanity

Somewhere in this unrelenting splurge

One wrinkled hand trembles to stretch

But fails to raise his empty coffers

These are my dreams and desires

Buried deep into the soil of my soul

Whereas the earthen pot is indoors

Some outrageous drops from heavens

Fly in the blowing breeze to tip toe

And spray upon  my parched veins

A little before they shrivel and fall

Moistened by the dampening drops

And now eager to die without a rustle

Anxious to touch the falling drops

Bound to the ground I never shook

Waiting in the desert amidst an oasis

Like a cloudless sky lost in a sprinkle dry

The timid efforts of a hesitant mind.

 

Delhi

11.7.24

0.03 hrs

2166

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The care taker

 

 

The Master handed over keys to the new inhabitant Jeevan.

Jeevan was a young lad with no major impressions in life, almost like a blank canvass . The Master had ensured some basic items of sustenance,  furniture etc were available to the occupants .So Jeevan started his first phase with minimal consumption. However, one fine day he woke up amidst commotion outside his house. There were new neighbors who had shifted in the morning. Their lorry carried some ornamental  furniture and showpiece items that were being carried by many laborers and placed inside the house. The screeching sound overflowed into his silent abode. Jeevan sped off to  work. However  , he could not help but think of the new neighbors and their belongings.  By the time he returned in the evening their house glowed in full glory , replete with spectacular items basking under focus lights .

Jeevan groped as usual to switch on his lights on return . In the process he also stumbled upon some furniture in the dark. He opened the windows for some fresh air but the first thing he could clearly see was the neighboring house. He sat on the wonted cot to sip some water. Somehow he was restless tonight. The room appeared to be dull and dim. He tried to sleep the whole night but rather found himself calculating how much money he could spare so as to match those who had set new standards. He was not sure of how much more comfortable or useful the new items would be but it was a race now ! He decided that he would get adequate rest now only on upgrading the house.

So the next few days Jeevan spent in ppeeping into their house , feeling how  he was no match for them  and planning for the new items. Finally after a week he could avail an emergency loan and got some equally decorative furniture . Now he was an equal in the race.  All this while, notable to mention is that the neighbors were not even aware of this competition they had landed into with someone.  However, it will not be wrong to state that basically these decorative pieces were eventually to make a statement of their affluence and  class.

When finally  Jeevan excelled in his job he found there were more things to buy for which he would work harder for affording them. So eventually Jeevan was struck in a vicious cycle , unsure if he was enjoying these things or rather latter were making him work more ! By now Jeevan’ s house was decked up so well that it hardly could be identified by the raw form he had moved into.  However, sometimes Jeevan fondly remembered those days of freedom and leisure when he had more of life and less of things .

One day the inevitable happened. The Master ordered him to just leave the house in a few moments . Jeevan pleaded for some time to carry the furniture he had amassed with so much of hard work. The Master would not listen. He said these signs of prosperity were of no use and he would have to restore the original version only.

 Sadly there is no rewind that we have in life. We are caretakers only and need to return The keys someday. The house He gives to us needs to be taken care of. Life deserves to be rich and not look rich . The sooner we appreciate the better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The precipitation

 

Slowly the swooping cloud swallows

The sublime peaks that caress skies

Draped in lush greenery with a river

Meandering down their widening base

Outlining the grey twists of an uphill  road

The strenuous climb and an effortless fall

I sometimes know not which one to choose

And often stand still in an attempt to decide

The droplets spray on my thoughtful face

Often thinking about what to think often

The precipitation of the descending clouds

And dew drops of the climbing peaks

The profuse perspiration of panting life

And the silent droplets of a soulsoaked eye.

 

Returning from Katra

2165

18.47 hrs

4.7.24

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The fairy with a broom

 

 

Adorned now by an honorable title

The home maker still does the same

What the neglected housewife ever did

The droplets that swoop on placid waters

Vaporize in the simmering day long sun

Over and over again in a vicious loop

Lost in rechristening to be found in margins

Like an invisible root of a resplendent bark

She runs the sap and supports the flora

The chirp in nest sings a song close to her heart

Armed with a  broom and a laptop in her hands

She deftly womanages the chores and the power

The mirror that reflects her smiling face

Absorbs the resilience and tatters on opaque side

Enroute Jammu

2.7.24

19.15 hrs

2164