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The dancing search.

On the city pavement he is dancing

And singing with a vibrating string--

Entrapped, the bird is crying.

Dancing and dancing, white beards flying.

His voice filled the air-- broken in despair

His composure radiates peace and pleasure.

What dichotomy is this, pray, will you talk to me?

Why son , with pleasure all your queries I answer.

What do you do? Where do you stay? What do you say?

-- I travel and travel, stay under the blue sky

For ages my thighs flowered,roads showered blessing.

I sing what I sing..... the bird is crying.

Afraid? No I'm not , alone to move ahead.

I'm told the king of kings himself is my shade

And shade for all who move ahead

And explore the road sans fear or hatred.

Purpose? My son, purpose? I'm in the search

Pulsating with the sea foaming around

I surf through the miles of urban labyrinth

I search the purpose, my legs never homebound.

No, I don't foresee my search's end

Though I ever pursue the road and every bend

But why bother, my son , why bother

Search and find the stories that matter.....

*********************************1***************************

Loser and mother .

Wood she saw the trees too, whole and parts she suffered both

Mornings early, nights late, sandals mended hundred times -

Noons she walks on molten asphalt

Evenings in kitchen -in fire and water, she makes food - succour to life

Never waits for thanks, neither given by her man -what guilt her face reflects.

Wood she saw the trees too

But no wiser.

For she gets no fruit of

All her labour.

Ever so soft, so gentle though
Timid and shy, the week deer
Knows no bargains, shrinks in fear
Even if she pays her bills due.

Failed, she failed on every count, even at night
Her man in mount she takes but nothing comes out.

At midnight- all asleep- she stares at her child
Forgets everything in soft moon light that defy
The unkind city's great might.

********************************2*******************************************

The detergent guru.

Home he returned, the Management guru

High above the earth where no pest dare

Only bipeds flourish in conditioned air

Home he came, the arrangement guru.

Quality time, quality time he will spend

Morning he taught meditation, skills of relaxation

Incessant meetings on tactics,strategy brilliant effigy

Of brand and product that stand apart.

Sixty minutes of quality time prescribed

So he reaches tomorrow the preset target and exceed.

Sixty minutes flew past as fast as time, of nature, does

Did he savour the milky flavour of her baby? or the mother-

Could she with all her endeavour, fragrance and lure

Turn him into a lover, give him the sweat of pleasure?

He loosened his ties only to reach the bed

His musings, waiting for the sleep to descend:

Thousands of tons of detergent I sold

Will reach millions to- morrow, if I be bold.

*********************************3***********************************************

Urban Joy.

Four geeks meet on a city street

City silicon lights on

Friday evening brightly shining

cars flying

past them four pals

Two lads two gulls

In search of joy they meet.

Five days they spent in typing iostream.in

iostream.out and cold codes in between

For them faceless blokes who can't count

Allot hotel rooms or keep trace of account

And for those who want to enter

every detail of every body in a computer.

Blocks of meet they consumed, dairy fat and Kohinoor rice

Endless cups of coffee, power naps to feel nice.

Now is the time to spend, spend the life at weekend

Now is the time to revel, revel through the night's veil.

Last weekend it was hell of a fun

Agrees everyone, shall make more memorable this one

Their bikes roared, one pair in each

Towards discos, or binge or..........

Next week and the week after and ad nauseum

They will pursue pleasure, gleeful or glum.

******************************4***************************************************

Urban dream.

Sitting in my cubicle, furnished by man to the hilt

Vividly do I see the country God built

Or so they say; lying by the poolside in Bengal's bush

on the soft green grass tender as love's own breast,

Long coconut palm rising high

Desire of the earth to mate the sky,

Soaked in cool breeze humid affection I get.

Day passes by without any how or why

Flowers blossom and dry, my own eye

has been witness once to the magic

The grace and mercy that she offers

conquers grief or makes it less tragic

Lust, keenest of desire, passions raw

crossed the border, turned into love I saw

By the time the dust raised by homebound cattles

gave twilight the splendor and color of dream

as evening approaches, spell of darkness settles.

One by one the women kindle the lamps, beam

Of soft rays gleam in web of spider's thread

Again and again I shall come to the dream

Even though tossing in ambition's urban bed.

Impressum

Widmung:
To my wife

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