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Monday, December 2, 2013

Nights are Young

Nights are young but days are old
Old, older than the skin covering my bones.
As ancient as the endless pit that lies beyond the eyes
Why does gravity its strength belie?
Why only half way and not pull us down deeper?
The force feels sharp underneath the feet.
But outside there are no visible signs.

So we keep moving on, and on and on and on,
Darkness is warm but cruel is the dawn.
Nights are young, the young sleep sweet
The others just stare at the clock and keep time with its beat.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013


Is that gold I see; glittering on the crest-leaves
                         Of those far-away trees?
Are those broad trunks, swathed in silver skeins,
                         By invisible, dancing fairies?
The heavens are shrouded by a rich black mantle;
                         Timeless, deep and dark.
All will soon be blown away by the winds;
                         Washed away without a mark.

The roar of the thunder, deep rolling growls;
Will smother even the fiercest wolves’ howls.
The brilliant flashes of blinding white and blue,
They are not a magician’s art, they are immortal and true.

I revel in this show of power, Mother Nature’s rage.
More than all the, light and sound, display of this age.
Pomp and splendor devised by mortal hands;
One day in near future, will be wrenched away,
From the very pedestal on which it, today, stands.

But in your angry growls, Mother;
 I find solace and peace.
Your dreadful dances of light, Mother;
Lulls my trembling heart to sleep.

Monday, June 10, 2013

My City the Way I Want it to be

I pay no heed to your sneering, scornful pity
I will always love my beautiful city.
Where all are hailed as “Dadas” or “Didis”
Whether they are on foot or riding their Mercedes!
Made from three villages only a few centuries back,
My city is bound to be off the beaten track.
Its skyline would inspire Shelley’s skylark’s song,
Through the streets Eliot’s “insistent feet” trample along.
Fervent speeches are made here, on porches and in malls,
While rats and cockroaches entertain in the town halls!
“Hookahs” are equally popular in cafes and in slums,
Feet tap unconsciously to the beats of “tablas” as well as drums.
My city folk are not always as sugary and sweet,
Many varieties of which they love to eat;
“Singaras”, “Luchis” and “Cutlets” are their favourite too,
If you offend them I wouldn’t want to be in your shoe!
The pious and the aesthetes flock at Kalighat, Nakhoda and St.Paul’s,
With the less spiritual, night clubs, bars and the parks crawl!
Cynics may complain that it’s no longer Lapierre’s joyous city,
But it’s still the city I want it to be, from now till eternity.