Clouds in the valley...

  Kati Thanda–Lake Eyre, located in the remote deserts of northern South Australia, is the country’s largest salt-lake and lowest natural point, lying about 15 metres below sea level. Most of the time, it is a vast, shimmering expanse of white salt crust, dry under the fierce outback sun. Because it sits at the heart of an arid inland basin, Kati Thanda fills only very occasionally—usually when heavy monsoonal rains fall far to the north in Queensland, sending floodwaters hundreds of kilometres down rivers like the Warburton and Cooper Creek. In rare flood years, the lake transforms into a shallow inland sea teeming with life: waterbirds flock to its shores, algae bloom, and the landscape turns from stark desert to a dazzling mirror of sky and colour. But as the water evaporates under the relentless heat, the lake soon returns to its dry, silent brilliance until the next distant rains arrive. A major flood event filled Kati Thanda in 2025, marking just the fourth time in the past...

  As silver creeps into The amber of our autumn years, We often wonder, look back, At the long tendrils Of dreams that we had woven When we were blessed With time and will and hope   But as we step into The throes of wakefulness These wispy dreams of yesterday Shred away like stray clouds Or dissolve In a moment’s taste Of sugary candy floss   And we realise The tendrils needed more - Those walls of support, Coir sticks of jutting luck, A trellis of dangling fatefulness And lots of garden smiles Beyond brooding days   In the last fading sun though Somehow, all seems awash With a tinge Of abstract gold And we see beyond The potted plants of garden sweat The planter boxes of our times   We see all those saplings Dispersed with time Arriving, thriving, unexpectedly Creepers, climbers, ramblers all A pair of nesting doves Hovering bees, the lacewings Who called this, their homes of small ...

  Like a lance, it looks up The first agapanthus In the backyard Always special –   As a vanguard Promising more of its ilk To run wild in the garden With summer colours   That rich purple Will paint the green of bushes all A ballast of hues December warmth   They collude, don’t they? Just when the jacarandas Are done with their insanity The agapanthus strikes   Baton of blooms passed They will carry the colours Deep into summer’s heart Long until the solstice mirth   It is the first one though That melts your heart Almost always Unexpectedly seen   Popping up One hot sultry day Like a long, forgotten friend Sending a sudden text And you remind yourself She’s still around Usual self And remembers me   And you smile, One more winter Has thus passed by One more year of wisdom spilled   Now, one more summer Of heat waves Balmy rays Laced with agapanth...

  One winter took with it Three seasons of mirth, And my garden – desiccated, Looked more forlorn Than my hidden heart But such is Life, We are always looking In the wrong direction   For in a hidden corner I found, Evidence of life as well, Growth, a bit of jubilation, Sheathed in emerald An abundance of chlorophillia In the tininess Of my succulent garden   The Burro’s tail Had through winter Descended like Rapunzel, While the echeveria And the aeonium Grew in floral whorls (Now that my garden Was bereft of blooms)   The Haworthia Grew many a tail While the agave shouted almost For a bigger lair of earth There were many more From the nameless ones That grew in one winter of Neglect and disregard   Even when the leaves have shed The world keeps growing Be it in the emptiness Of the deciduous outside Or the cornucopia Of succulents inside Perhaps, they don’t test themselves But...

  I light a single earthen lamp of gold But deep down within, I stir: If myself in exile, what is it I revel? Which Dandak celebrates light, I wonder How longer more, we never know Ayodhya is far, and the years run slow   The flame flutters, it sees my heart But it steadies itself, and speaks in soot: You light the lamp, to not celebrate But to burn the flame and glow the truth To tell the world, you have fire still To let regents rule while you choose to roam And you light the lamp to remind yourself After all the wars, awaits a home….

  On yesterday’s hills, The alpenglow of sunset Radiates like molten gold; Yellow, orange, red A flurry of colours Dance in the mountains’ fold   For a brief moment, Just after sunset Bleached are the colours all, A sheen of white wraps the hills And gold turns to silver In the whitewashed evenfall   If you ever lose your way Or get drunk In the melancholy of your fortitude, You have permission To return to that argentum, TO that broken interlude   In that last dash of daylight When the sun is already lost You will find the last lines Of our songs of day Still humming with the tunes Of rhododendrons and mountain pines   But to your surprise You will find them unfinished They were never really done Deliberately left lacking That one day, you return To write what you couldn’t learn   Racing against time I know for sure You can finish the song, Perfectly wrapping What we started Bu...

  Here we are, You and I, In our separate worlds alone, You in your endless climb Of corporate hills, Me, in desert lands unknown   Once in a while though We both stare at stars, Your cityscapes, My Milky Way, Wondering of each other In a world, for long now sparse   What if…Perhaps…If only Would it have hurt To write, to hint, to something say? Scared of getting burnt, That we would never speak again, But silent are we even today   But never mind, We knew it all along, didn’t we? Rejection was not the fear Rather, we were scared Of acceptance, of something bigger Than what was already dear     To grow enough to crack To climb enough to fall Envy that would split - Instead, we chose To remain mediocre A distant lamp lowly lit   We chose The love of loneliness That we have something to heal The loneliness of love Unrequited with moistness We can forever feel   S...

    On Saturday evenings, Mumbai, I would often be alone – My consultant room-mate, over-zealous, Would refuse to be flown Back to base, and I Waking up groggy in the evenfall, Feeling lonely, morose, melancholic Would wonder what to do at all   That is when, one dusky day, I wandered off in the lanes afar, Stumbling on an ocean of spice, Rainbow colours in a sea of jar Glow of turmeric, powders of gold Chilli in scarlet, cinnabar red Cumin, cinnamon, anise in brown And cardamom pods in pistachio-jade   Heaps of hues, as if Holi was here, Gulal gathered in the gloaming’s glow But more than the colours, the whiffs ablaze Waking me up, steady and slow The air suffused with a pungent sting Piquant aroma, even acrid a bit The colours, the smells that brought back warmth Just as the market lamps were lit   It turned my norm, each Saturday lone To head to the market, the storm of spice To shed my world of ...

  I stare at a wall, Melanin black, Proving its name, Only that it is a stack Not just of rocks But also of time, Where, millions of years In symphony, chime   For when you look close, Trapped in its layers, Are shells and bones Petrified wares Staring back at thoughtful eyes - Life in the rubble From Permian   times Trapped in a bubble   As if herein was the sea A mass, alive Herein they swim Therein they dive Primitive forms, Frozen for good Watching the aeons As they silent brood   Whispering, if you hear Time is a lore - A frozen tale, That doesn’t pour And you and me, Locked in its arms Are fooled by the stars And their swirling charms   The seas rise and fall The skies turn blue But we were forever here And so are you And this frozen wall Is a crack on its face Where time seeps out And nights turn to days   The world forgets The lands move on And Pange...

    We all learn it the hard way: Through disappointment - When others fail to appear When all along, We were never strong To face alone our fear   We all wait like Harry - James’ patronus will surely come It will come rescue us at last, But James will never come His chapters were over Long ago in the past   And only when The Dementors take it all Except the last gasp of breath That we realise We need our own patronus To save us from our death   Heroes in our own book We are not meant to watch – To be spectators who can wait We must star in the stage of life Our own patronus alone Crafting our strands of fate   This is the only company We all have, Singular journey of our own All other masks Distant stars While we linger all alone…   7 TH October, 2025