Clouds in the valley...

            For three nights now, the pirates trailed           The ship in Kalinga Sea,           There was word, it held a prize           From the rich Tampralipi             Kanalal, the pirate lord,           Couldn’t wait to lay on it, his hands           He wondered though what were the gems           Being sent to the Lankan lands             The most precious gift it was,           To Anuradhapura and its king,           What was it, the pirate thought,           Sceptre, crown or ring             The slaves rowed fast, and very soon,  ...

  The world has started growing old, in this cycle maze, Sunlight wafts with orange now, though shorter are the days And somewhere lies an emptiness, with which the heart, it grieves The smell of darkness everywhere, save for the ruddy leaves And yet, the winds assure you, though crisp and cold and dry (The world, the wind or perhaps me – one of us a lie) But I go back to my autumn gaze, the leaves drop one by one When winter lies inside the eyes, summer’s not the sun   And yet, the winds bring mirth again, like the refrain of a song Lighter feels the shadows now - with me you lift along She speaks with autumn in her eyes, you have to cheer them all, The chain of life is a bonded gift, don’t single spring or fall And unless you sing with all of them, the seasons will not flow - For then the sun will always shine, the clouds will come and go…  

The battery of my phone was nearly over – 1% of the charge would definitely not be enough for the last 10% of my journey given it was a new route I was exploring. I stopped cycling immediately and tried to take in the directions displayed on my phone so that I would have some indication of where to turn next. But it was too much to take in, with too many turns, twists and traffic lights. I tried hard to memorise, but the phone conked off and I was left stranded. Two thoughts immediately came to minds: the second one - let me narrate that first – was that we have become too dependant on technology; instead of trying to look for naturally-existing signs and honing the directional knowledge in the compass of our minds, we have too easily surrendered to Google Maps. In a different way, even without Judgement Day, the machines seem to have taken over. Let me now build a bit more on the first thought that came to mind: even after 11 years now, I told myself, with a sigh: woh saala Nishant ho...

The traffic lights turn red, And I, the busy man I pretend to be Look beyond my excel sheet On the taxi driver in front of me   A dark-skinned man, he had a smile, A kind of glow on his happy face, That kind of glow not met by needs, But by the peacefulness of the everydays   And yet, beneath, the veneer of smile, Melancholy floated in forlorn eyes, Time aside, that watery depth That comes with pain, that makes us wise   A chit chat here - my laptop shuts (The glow he had also boomed in his voice) ‘Where are you from?’ I had to ask ‘Sudan,’ he replied, ‘War, sir, I had no choice’   That familiar tale that doesn’t change No matter how much time is wound up past – The wounds will heal, the clots will dry But the scars and pain will us, outlast ‘Khartoum?’ I ask – he’s lit with a grin (It was the only city my geography knew) But here, his past drew empty looks, And he had respect for the informed few   It se...

  Dusk descends on the city of Lights And where would you rather go? Let’s walk by the banks flooded with art And see the river’s sluggish flow   The bridges criss-cross – some decked with locks The city is in love, beyond its pains, Notre Dame agrees, Come inside, And hear the music of my colour stains   While Charlemagne asks, See beyond -   My city has much you cannot see, The dust settles, the sounds then freeze And colours are found under a grey melee   A poet strives to break his block A painter channels his tears of stream, While Shakespeare becomes a tourist trap, A lost soul hopes he can write his dream   The trader wonders if he can pay his debts, A vagabond wonders, which arrondissement ? Egalite , the city smiles – beneath the jazz, The world, a veneer of scars and flaw   But there’s joy as well, eternal love Hands held soft in their secret spots, The Seine knows all and weaves through t...

  We are where we always were, The circle that we are, The horizon is but a blink away, The near, sometimes far   And yet we feel we’ve come this long We’ve conquered many lands, When all the while, the river moved Us stuck in golden sands   The colours of the world will change - But, they are not, for us to claim, They are but part of the seasons’ flow, As the land remains the same   Mirages daub our kingdom walls, Dreams our daily prayer - One blinking move of nature’s eye And we’re back to where we were…   5 th March’ 2022   The lands are drowned in nature’s tears, as floods engulf the surrounds of the city. The rivers in particular are in full swell as the dams overflow and the banks gasp for breath. The historic city of Windsor, 30 km from where I stay is flooded by the overflowing Hawkesbury river. A bridge I walked on, just a couple of weeks back, is now under water such is the volume of summer’s storms. O...