Routine

From sunset to the oceans' swell,
they rise and we know it well
It happened, and happened again;
is this how we learnt it all

Beauty Contest

O Thee, why aren't those white clouds drifting,
instead dangling over your shoulders.
Blue waters beneath, sky grey above,
is this by design?

Ah, that dilapidated stairway,
from the fine sand to the land,
augment the ambience than anything else.
Is there a greater motive?

Why are you, O Mountain, daubed in green,
Who chose that color for thy gigantic bulge,
Is that haze near the peak,
a ruse of yours or those white billow's?

As my eyes devour thy beauty, my body shivers in joy.
Bedecked like a cosmic bride,
Are you running for a beauty contest?
You may win all the pelf of human kind

Rise O Sun

Rise O Sun ! I await you on the shore of sea
Ye shalt not give thy light, just to see creation of thy mercy,
Ye shalt not rise to remind the call of duty,
Ye shalt rise to the joy of birds and wild flowers; eternal beauty

Fall O Night! Let the stars peep out in cloudy haze
Ye shalt let them shine, for my delightful gaze
Ye shalt not fall, to hark dogs' howl, remind men to rest
Ye shalt fall to wake my chimerical zest.

Fly O Bird ! Not to forage for thy nestlings
Ye shalt fly to please thy wings
Ye shalt fly to reach heights of ecstasy
Ye shall fly, not as a policy.

Rise O Spirit ! Lead my self to thee,
from this hell of queer apathy
unto thy garden of compassion for brethren;
a culmination of everything earthen.

My Shadow

You appear so near, yet so far
No one can hold you dear;
Through all my life, you've been
Whenever I have seen

You grow and shrink, as I blink;
the rate by which the sun does sink
Still you are there right at your place,
even if I flash a ray of light, over my face.

Your dark tone typifies my sinister soul,
But you don't take any colour, despite my howl !
I'm bored to see you in the same dark tint,
a shade that often makes me, with fear, wilt

You walk along, wherever I choose
neither do you whine nor do you screech.
Why are you with me ? I know not a need
for you, to do any of my deed.

Dream?

It was an iridescent dream, I chose to pursue-
a golden chariot galloping towards the sky,
rising above the present reality, to enjoy the power of elevation;
a pursuit of that I could either fathom or neglect.

So attractive was the gleam,
that I hastened to leave my own ground
Not with a jot of empathy for those
I always held so near in my life.

Sun, surely shines, but it also burns,
a fact that just missed my mind.
What's a lesson that's only in text
and ain' t in the lab of life.

Every sunrise, I rise to this reality
with a solemn prayer - Every consequence
is a manifest of my conscious choice,
to pursue that which I fail to fathom or neglect.

Treaty with a friend

O friend! My friend! you've been the pillar
of strength that withstood the quakes of my life's vicissitude;
you've been the much needed light
that illuminated my mind in times of darkness.

O Friend! My friend! When I asked,
'How shall I repay the debt I've thus incurred?';
You sought rectitude as the currency,
which I, ever readily, concurred.

O friend! My friend! whom shall i blame
if your modesty camouflages my tribute
as a travesty of our agreement.
for I alone know the truth, the real truth!

O friend! My friend! I now seek to pay the penalty, yet again
on your own terms, without the slightest penitence,
for I alone know the truth, the real truth!
But I confess unto you that I've dropped the weight of prim
to embrace the warmth of your intimacy.

Image of an oblivious woman

An old lady, probably an octogenarian, squatting on her bare foot, resting against a lamp post, in the fading sunlight of the dusk, was weaving a bamboo basket. Unmindful of the crowd, the hustle and bustle of the market place, there was a sense of priest-like sincerity in her task. Her hand was masterful in handling the rough fibers of split cane, the material used to weave the basket. She seemed to possess such perfection that never warranted her to observe her work. Whenever I saw her eyes, it almost seemed to be lost in oblivion. I could not escape that sight of artless craftswoman working with such high spirit as to ignore all constraints, yet so detached as to avoid indulgence.
In the background stood a tall multi storey glazed shopping mall that vowed to satiate the affluent squanderers. While the edifice was trying to mock at her fragility, the blatant apathy of the fellow brethren who passed by her was like a blasphemy to the common religion of human compassion. Fighting all these odds, her spirit of perseverance was a symbol of indignation against the failure of the much espoused human virtue.
Unconsciously, this sight had a bearing on my mood every time. It had a cathartic effect on me, the reason I longed for it. Her face had effulgence that could only stem from a life of piety and sanctity. She was not begging money or material, but her face had an imploring look. What was she imploring? Mercy? Emancipation?

Life has been about contradictions and conflicts, an idea which I am almost inveigled into. This image only helped strengthen the idea which I did not like, but was almost convinced. While a part of the society embraced modernism (both pros and cons) with stretched arms, here was a woman who fought for her existence even in the twilight of her life.

I was now used to seeing her everyday from the comfort of my seat through a semi-opened tinted window of my bus. One fine day, an incident happened and it shook my conscience. I had left my office a little late that day. So, when I crossed that lamp post where the old lady usually sat, the sodium vapor lamp was brightly shining and it was well past dusk. A young man, whom I presumed to be her grandson helped her get up, which was not unusual. Then, he held her hands and crossed the road just in front of my bus. To my utter dismay and shock, I realized that she had not the power to see the external world. A lightning bolt ran down my spine, I felt like being woken up from a sweet dream and thrown in the open to face the brunt of reality.

Many of us might have witnessed such incidents, but with an education that has been successful in molding a strong saddle that's highly enduring and effective that has also bestowed a blindfold, as if to improve our performance in the perpetual horse race, does it enable us to ask the right question?
While the present system may have made it inexorable to pursue goals of personal acquisition, isn't it perilous to exult the same?