Clouds in the valley...

  Like tear drops Rolling down, The Spanish moss Trickles too - Down branches and twigs Tendrils of longing Holding firmly To the tree of lost love   With time The tree is full Of the old man’s beard Its soul though Still drowns in melancholy As the moss Sobs silently But you and I just see growth – We claim, ah, the art of nature…   19 th March, 2026

  I stare at carved panels And wonder - Is this how Sanchi would look Trapped inside a hall? Two thousand years of history At least some have been preserved The surreal work of the Sungas A lost world carved in stone   But most people rush by - They don’t even know what these ruins are, Like any other debris Gathering dirt in a showcase But if you touch a piece of stone Perhaps the lotus, the wheel - You will get transported To the Bharhut of golden times   A large stupa, ornate gateways And the Buddha’s last remains - Maybe you can see its birth Piyadasi’s dreams, a Hellenistic touch; But careful - one wrong breath, Or a grumbling whisper And they all come crashing down; Bharhut reduced to ruins   But wait, do you see it? A reliquary left behind Its path hidden in these very rocks Breathing life, whispering the truth The treasure visible to those alone Who can touch the lotus blossoms Of a long-forgot...

  Winter’s Kolkata Full of restfulness On the Memorial’s greens; Some are active, Busy clicking - The marbled wonder Wrapped in Makrana, Victoria Memorial – our eastern Taj (The professionals seek its reflection In the Memorial tank)   But you fixate At the very top – The wings The trumpet, The laurel Ah, the Goddess of Victory You understand my curiosity ‘She alone was allowed To disturb the illusion of symmetry’ Angel wings moving with the wind   ‘But once in a while Even the goddess is stuck Against the whims of the universe’ I could see the angel reflected In your shimmering eyes ‘But she stays – Wings spread out, Ushering hope in the metro ’ Perhaps, the seraph smiles That only few of us can see…   14 th March, 2026   The Victoria Memorial in Kolkata was conceived after Queen Victoria’s death in 1901 by Lord Curzon, drawing inspiration from the Italian Renaissance style and the Taj Mahal. ...

At Rabindra Sarovar You wonder How is it, That this vast lake Has no sunset birds?   This expansive lake - With lily pads, lotus ponds - Yet no flock at dusk Perhaps they need no closure But I don’t voice my words   The sunset came and went Like ourselves - Blazing only to dim, Yet, those missing silhouettes Stirred your inner restlessness   In the dying yellow Of the skies You have given up When I smile And point up to the last of rays   And you stare Eyes wide open In disbelief Not one, but three Large ‘V’s of cormorants fly   All at once One above the other. Unlike me, my city succeeds As we silent fade In the last rays of a sunset sky…

  Toc-a-toc Toc-a-toc Toc-a-toc Mid-day’s heat: Somewhere, In the midst Of the city’s din If you pay attention You can hear Above the hawker’s cries Beyond the truant kids A coppersmith at work   Not bidriware But the barbet Tinkers an old dream Reminding faintly Beneath this veneer There is another city Of Mango trees A kingfisher in the shadows And Chatim’s delight, The sepia city seems to stare From an old photo left behind In a musty book from yesterday   But all of this Clouded by the gasoline Of tomorrow’s Kolkata Still shouting: Cholche na Cholbe na Receding softly If you sit up and listen To the coppersmith’s world, Awakening us anew Toc-a-toc Toc-a-toc Toc-a-toc… 12th March, 2026

  Cloudy days - How long will they keep painting my Sky? Time and again, they come Bringing the smell of wet earth From the past, As much as unseen memories From the future   But what if, They are not here to romanticise? Rather to get over with: The red earth saturated so much That the inland seas from yesteryear Arise once more To enrich the land not our own   Let it bleed Let Eromanga rise again Let the fossilized memories Come to life again That we are set free To roam the desert sands Where a new adventure awaits…   8 th March, 2026   The Eromanga Sea was a vast inland sea that existed during the Cretaceous period, covering much of what is now inland Queensland and South Australia. At its height, it stretched hundreds of kilometers, creating a rich marine ecosystem that preserved fossils of marine reptiles, ammonites, and early dinosaurs. Over millions of years, the sea gradually receded, leaving behind...

  Clouds come to the hills Not to the seas, Yet your cloudy eyes appeared On Nagaon’s sands   ‘Who comes to the beach On a rainy day?’ You could have said, But you too were lost   In angry waves, howling winds The foam of lashing seas, Under inky blue skies Bringing waves of rains   Redemption, indeed In that deluge above, In that flood below Nothing for the eyes to hide   And then, you smiled You realised: It was never About the hills or seas One could be either   It is the rains that unite Dissolving all emotions Until it’s just you and me, Left behind on a cloudy day…

Purple lights Of the Howrah Bridge Ferry caught in the rains And we, in our nor’wester That first kiss Without the kiss While dancing in the thunder And hoping the journey never ends   But summer’s storm brings short relief. At the busy Howrah Station I turned back And time split, a part of me still there On the ferry Tasting rains, looking ahead The other me, awaiting clouds Under purple lights that fade away…   4 th March, 2026    

  At Leura, I stare At the Bridal Veil Falls - Summer’s rains Have breathed in fresh life And the valleys echo With the waterfalls roar   Blue clouds billow On the horizon, White smoky breaths Of the green jaded hill arise And the mountains wake To the mizzle of March   The Western Ghats Come back easily. The same colour of the clouds A nor’wester in Calcutta Or the wetness of Shillong What rejuvenated memories   But I stop myself – Isn’t it enough looking back? How long will I pass the present With the eyes of a distant past The memories, though beautiful Become a burden   The waterfalls remind Sometimes it’s good to flow ahead The arrow of time severed, I smile Leura is beautiful, The Blue Mountains are a bounty I wonder what the next village reveals…

  To all my friends who lost themselves – like me - in the Western Ghats   It was in the Ghats That we discovered Eden. If paradise could drizzle Wouldn’t this be it? The sky - with every shade of grey The earth – with every shade of green In between, us colourblind souls Drenching in a spectrum Of waterfalls that bled the hills.   I am removed, but what of you? Do you still seek cascades Every time it rains? Or have you succumbed To the summers of your lives? Was it ‘me’ that dragged you along? Or was it ‘us’, our restlessness Calmed only by the grandeur of the ghats?   Perhaps we have grown old But somewhere I know We are still there, seeking waterfalls, In the rains that never stopped We are still there, climbing wet earth Finding our own footsteps Yet wondering, where have they gone? The dreamy explorers of yesterday’s time...

  If I had to go back To find the both of us today I would return To Konkan’s golden sands. Those endless stretches – Harihareshwar, Diveagar, Vengurla, Kashid Countless more.   If you go there, You will find me Already there No footprints But a smile on the face; And that smile will continue As you come forth; Perhaps you too will smile   The day behind us, Just the calm of a late dusk The last sliver of the sun And a lonely boat Melting into the Arabian But the skies all aglow Reminding us It was always a beautiful day   The sea breeze will waft The casuarinas will sway. Both of us silent Because there is no need to speak And the Konkan will dream As it has always dreamt Even when none of us Were ever around…   26 th Feb’ 2026              

  Kalsubai remained unconquered; Wanting the list to stay alive, I kept a few boxes unchecked So many hills and walls scaled But the highest peak – Was kept aside for tomorrow   Tomorrow never came; The Ghats receded in the background Other cities came closer And my rain-drenched hills Of emeralds got lost In necklaces of yesterday   What a tug of war – You, who lived for today Wanting to plant a summit flag; I, who dreamt of tomorrow Let the clouds sail away Afraid they would end in rain   I wonder who was right? The tomorrows left With a puncture Or one yesterday A fulfilled jigsaw hanging In the emptiness of being full   But Kalsubai watches and smiles, Whatever we would have done, It would remain unconquered – Ourselves scaling only those parts That were already there, Deep inside our hearts   20 th Feb’ 2026 At 1,646 metres (5,400 ft), Kalsubai Peak is the highest point in Maharas...

  They will tell you Beyond this frontier, lies paradise: Goa – The colours of Bohemia The aroma of the sea The suntan warmth That chilled beer on the sands   But, what if the gateway Was paradise too? An invisible border divides the mind For Tarkarli watches quietly – With its rivers, houseboats Coral seas and Sindhudurg   It smiles – That rustic coconut calm Is not for the mindless tourist It is for the quiet nomad Exploring, not following Discovering, not ticking   There, at the very tip You can choose to melt In bucolic silence; The journey down south cut short But what is infinity less one step The winds blow even at Tarkarli…   19 th Feb, 2026   Tarkarli lies at the very end of Maharashtra just before Goa – while tourists flock to Goa, the beauty of this gateway is just as mesmerising

  I   ‘We will miss the train,’ I had cried, But you had to see the caves, ‘It will hardly take us time,’ you lied And we climbed All the way to a nearby hill An old gatekeeper quiet And cicadas, summer’s shrill   ‘What is there at all?’ I mocked ‘Why bother dragging me?’ The old man, unimpressed, rasped ‘Whatever you want to see’ Wasted tickets, camera out We walked to empty caves The same old nothingness Desolate walls, rock hewn empty staves   But one cave of them all The only one with carvings left, For this, a hundred rupees? The tickets, a silent theft Yet this one was full of art – A detailed scene of horrific war Death, army, a king with no heart   This king though felt deep and close Despite that evil in his eyes A familiar face, I had known forever – Was this a dream of lies? And who was that taming him? A monk, a Boddhisattva on a hill The king entranced, he drops his sword He has...