ये जो काली यादों में मेरे अश्क़ रिस्ते हैँ 

अलफ़ाज़ों में घुले दर्द किसको दिखते हैँ

स्याही में कभी अश्क़ उभर कर छलक़ जाता है 

कहते हैँ लोग कोयले में हीरा चमक जाता है

The old strap

 

The time with a scratched old strap

Often slips down his wrinkled wrist

As he recalls the same events decades later

Everytime there is a similar stimulus

For the past still surrounds his cage of bed

Warding off new events as they fail to trespass 

The sheath of wonted memories and emotion

Still vivid in the canvas of unreceptive mind

The meadow still sprouts tender life within the wood

The sap runs deep and spirals to the shedding bits

Often he gets hurt after a fall somewhere

But continues to stretch with the same zest

Forgetting that he branches are no more 

 Turgid with flesh to bear new fruit.

Sometimes there is the old chirp

That flaps back to the deserted nest

To dangle upon the woody twigs again

He smiles and pulls up the old strap again

To tick on his swollen wrist and fading pulse

The siren of an ebbing dusk on a grey shore.

Enroute Dehradun 

2350

6.5.26

15.57 hrs

The control

 

The vagabond breeze fills life

In the wayward waves of sea

While we tend to control the thrill

By dipping our palms in their design

The sea listened with a trumpet 

At the wonted shrill pitch of mahout

Today the tides break the fetters

That bind it to a frivolous shore

And crashes into the darkening woods

The mutiny of the unpaid loyalty, though,

Footprints camouflaged in another type

The tusk prods into the lush foliage

Unmindful of the shrill threatening pitch

The farm of cane is parched presently

But it holds promise of cherished fruit

While the clouds strike silver lines 

Into the greying noon in the day

Dumb, deaf and immobilized in the sludge

The beast of a disgruntled mind.

Mumbai 

01.12 hrs

2349

5.5.26

The conflict

 

A speck of vapor swirls upon douzed embers

While a flame had once crackled beside

The constricted bend that splattered

The truant drops from a gushing  brook

But now they overhang the lively vale 

Pent up within the grey strands in sky

Their breath swoops to caress the ashes

That smoulder upon a demised  pyre

Lit once along a brook that splattered

On the flame of life somewhere within 

The conflict ends with no side to rejoice

Though sometimes the thoughts precipitate

The drops descend  not in the gushing brook 

But in the vale to ooze out now and then

Amidst the constricted bends of sight.

Enroute Mumbai

2347

4.5.26

19.30 hrs

The destination to commence

 

There are treasures that entice dreams

By their resplendent sparkle that winks

Often to add glitter to an ever eager flow 

The gush to fall from gorges to the delta

That ends with a poise of strangulation 

By the closed clutch of accumulated silt

Drowning only to find the cherished jewel.

Amidst this paradox of the twirling path

Where the origin and destination mingle

For the grave swings and cradle is buried

When the courage finds a crevice to sprout

The search that confounds the determined mind

Is to find the destination to commence.

4.5.26

Enroute Mumbai

2346

18.21 hrs

The overflowing cup

 

The fleeting moment gasps

Like an over galloped horse

The infinite benevolence 

With an incessant pouring 

Has left no margin for breath

To resonate within the emptiness

To recline in the nothingness 

For the flow is always beyond brim

The canvas is heavy throughout 

With the coagulation of myriad hues

That often it feels black within

Whereas the culmination of shades

Garnered in the pallet of eventful life

Should have had incandescent strokes

While the specks that sprinkle down

From the cascade of overflowing cup 

Mirror stars to twinkle with a prank

Recline and enjoy their night in dark

With a deep breath in nothingness.

Enroute Mumbai

2348

20.00 hrs

4.5.26

 A Bishop returning from Dubai was asked if he remembered the adjective being used for ugly  sisters in Church over there.

 " yucky nun", he replied.