Archive for September 2, 2016

Memories of those delicate tinkling bells,
casually fastened around calloused feet,

take hold of my waking moments,

and fling my thoughts back to a distant time,
where folk-songs were heartily sung,
joyful, yet hopelessly out of rhyme.

I barely saw her, a construction labourer perhaps,
hauling bricks, cement, anything, on a scorching Delhi day,
while in the semi-shade of a Gulmohar tree, her infant silently lay.

A cacophony of thoughts such as these swirl around,
yanking me away from the now, to my cow-dung littered childhood playground.

Now, a lifetime of displacement has hushed the jangling chorus of the past,
to a faint trickle of sounds, as distant as an ocean heard inside tiny sea-shells,


I know, that the orchestral nostalgic crescendo, rises, dips, and swells,
as tantalisingly near, yet a world of time away, as were the tinkling of her ankle-bells.

sidestepping shrapnelled

shards of jagged life



deeply veiled

fleeing from salivating strife

sewing a tattered soul











a patchwork of forgotten lies spoken

a wellspring of

dreams broken

flung to the winds

cast away

the wanderer …

committing the crime


every bend

attemped rhyme

to inure time


upon endless



to bury pain

on cue

to mask loss




on cue




to paint on

the wanderers smile …

she comes to me,

offering solace, gentle words whispered in my ear,

she placates me,

her words a tender caress, dispelling fear,

she seduces me, as sure as she breathes fire into my soul,

she teases me, offering glimpses of the promise of being whole,

she heals me, when i’m down, battered blue black,

she picks me up, shuffling my self as bones achingly crack.

in love with her, i know now, without her, i would not cope,

in love with her, i know now, she is abiding hope,

hope lives,

hope breathes,

always … …

my wishes are simple,

desires few,

gazing upon a leaf,

nourished by dew.

my wishes are simple,

dreams hardly grand,

hearing birdsong in this desert,

together, hand in hand.

my wishes are simple,

my heart calm,

resting with you ‘neath this palm,

years rattling bones,

wrinkling skin,

greying our hair,

ever so thin … … …

what are we if not tinder, unable to rekindle the embers,

of hope,

what becomes of us if we stall, if we choose to lay down each time we fall … …

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