Clouds in the valley...

As if, the clouds would drift From the Airport Control Tower crew In a modern dystopian version Of yesterday’s Meghdoot written anew   Knowing perhaps, I would sit there alone, Watching clouds broodier than me, Drifting past, going beyond Into the invisible hall of melancholy   Floor 13, in this newfound exiled land of mine I, in my bitter-sweetness looked out Staring – at the worlds above and far away Lost in despair, dismay, doubt   Until I looked down like a satrap snob Upon the peasants of my kingdom land Urchins dancing in the rain, Yet somehow, a joy that only they could understand   I descended from Swarga to the Martya lands As in another one of Vishnu’s dream Drenched in a second from head to toe, The rains falling like a cascade stream   That day, the city woke up from its sepia tones And seemed livelier than a marionette play It was there in the drenched cesspool of the lands You could see the ...

  Sakura season burst one day In a balmy scent of spring As more than winter thawed and dripped Perhaps deep within   Pastel soft, purpled and pink, Beneath the pensive blues Melting the moods of melancholy In the last of frozen hues   In the breath of a single, northern wind The blossoms came and went, Seen by a handful, lonesome eyes For which perhaps they were meant   The unseen eyes did forlorn cry, Why did they go so soon? Petalled wings glide like a swarm One hurried afternoon   But for those who saw, all time was stilled And nothing left to chance, As Sakura’s spring bloomed and died, Eternity in a glance…   07 th August. 2022   As a chilly winter limps away, first signs of spring arrived as cherry blossoms seem to have blossomed hurriedly - this afternoon, I looked them in their eyes and an entire evening passed away…

  Evocation in those enigma eyes, I wonder, whatever did you see - The rise of canvas on these walls? Colours to rule all eternity?   Hundreds of years that carved these rocks In ochred walls that silent fell, Alive, yet if only you could come to life What raspy stories would you tell?   Would you whisper jewels on your grace? Sapphire, emerald sheathed in gold, Or would you speak of nirvana cells Before the grime and dirt and mould   That bracelet, necklace, turban green Did they come from Scythian lands? Will our tainted ears even understand The peals of your cymbal hands?   You avert all gaze, we mortal souls Are not meant to hear your speech, Perhaps in hallowed walls of time, Renunciation it is, you teach   The sangha long has left these hills, It is a wonder that you stayed, For those who can, there’s a lot to hear In the words you never said…   06 th August, 2022   Inspired by...

  The howling winds ring still in the ear After long the hills have dried away, In a restless mind, the earth is calm Yet the monsoon clouds billow in grey   The rains in the ghats are emerald green The moistened memories deep within, Melancholy seeps from the broken walls Where once the forts would the Deccan reign   And the youthful streams have scoured a path Not just in vales and ridges old, The water runs deep in submerged minds, And in dreams that float on, yet untold   The cascades plunge through the folds of time, Some rise even with the banshee breeze, The seasons stop, the cycle breaks Yet the mizzling memories never cease   What did I lose in those igneous traps? Why pensive runs each cloudy day? One drop of rain sets forth a sea, And drenched are my deserts of far away   A whisper floats from the western ghats, - It’s not what we lose in the rains that flood Rather what we find when the earth...