Monday, June 22, 2009

Power-cut debates

Over the years, like old clothes
Our arguments develop holes.
You would have made your point across
won the argument for the day in college.
But now when you look back on the debates
there are gaps staring at you.
Gaps that were once covered with emotion.
You have moved on since then
From the twinkle in the eye to bifocals.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Flying colors

Sometimes the wind is such that
it doesn't tear away the kite
instead stalls the flying colors.


I know that there is this world, other than myself
where I am just emulating a million others.
But there are differences that I can feel
in the seeming similitude.

In the early morning silence where past
wakes up and chats with me over coffee
there is a specialty I can feel.
One can call it a pedestrian illusion.

Over the years I have translated
the cryptic messages on the milestones
into success, failure and their variants.
Now I have invented ignorance of these milestones.
Still I go along, not as a timed arson
but enjoying the timelessness of things.

I know it is an illusion and all those theories.
(I know the word "ephemeral" too)
But somewhere I should start showing peace
I should cease to contend and be content.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

In circles

The world goes around in silent circles.
What do they matter in the grand scheme of things
These little tragedies of Sophocles.
Theaters across the universe are jam-packed
with plays like these and mainly these
till the actors are down, wrinkled and cracked.
How is your thing different? Does it involve the gods?
Restive questions from the audience. Then it's announced.
"This one has lot of hope" and everyone applauds.
Hope is heavy on them after all these tragedies
But still, is an intoxicant with
a strong spell like the elixiric remedies.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Some memories

In the racks of thoughts
some memories are hidden books.
Sleeping behind the slanting volumes
they seem to be out of place now.
But back then, there was a purpose
which is now forgotten.
A calculus text in a psychology row
that is what I wished for that
memory to become. Untraceable and
unconnected is what I had planned.
But now years after, my thoughts flow
in search of that memory like rainwater
in search of a depression in the plain surface.

Thursday, June 4, 2009


On the ramparts of Olympus
there is a chess board spread.
Pawns are being sacrificed with tact.
It is time the king shows up
with his much awaited single step act.

Far down the hill is Sisyphus
still rolling his boulder
while Atlas is suffering
from an aching shoulder.

The idle gods come to life
with Homer pouring out his epics
Vesuvius has bad stomach
and Pompeii is turned into relics

Brahe is losing sight and
is misplacing the heavens.
He is calling with hope
to hark his grievance.

Davinci is still dabbling
while Newton is eying the apple
and Galileo is grappling
with old age in a prison.

There are Socrates and Plato
awake round the clock
discussing reason and rationale
and the right dosage of hemlock.

The game is heading to a deadlock
and the next move would take time.
May be eternity, may be now
Zeus is stuck.