The news came today!

Death,

took with it -

the bitterness of our past,

possible joys of meeting again,

all those dreams we once shared

but

Your memories,

it can't take away.

In a preordained moment
as real as it can be

We met for the first,
nothing that I remember now,
neither I got anything new to say

nor you had a thing to ask!

The time was as ancient as
the age between us
we were just destined to meet
the way it was!


Three steps in the road
and I looked back,

standing beside the old Iron Gate

You were waving bye,

and in that passing moment,

I knew

we are living in wrong times

we have left so much behind!

Maybe,

One life is just not enough.

We shall meet and we shall depart,

with a possibility that

we'll make it better next.

I wrote this poem for a woman who changed my views towards life and love -

I think I knew love!
When I saw that dreamy look in her eyes
and felt something strange inside,
it was when we bunked classes
just to wander around in unfamiliar streets,
it was talking endlessly
sitting in that ancient wooden bench
of the friendly park,
and , feeling heavy in the heart
as if nothing has been told yet.
It was in sipping coffee silently
wishing not to disturb each other,
it was in arguing over small things
like even the design of her new pendant.
Or, when we had to share,
the little money we had
just to pay the rent!

I think I knew Love!

So, dear, is it Love-
When we call each other friends'
and send funny SMS'es
we talk this and that for long hours
even while sitting miles apart,
and write short, crispy private messages
just to stay in touch?
Is it Love -
When I feel so scared and weird
to call you every time
simply for saying hi,
and what about the emptiness
after we say bye ?

Wish I could invent a very new word
not yet used,
pure and expressive,
a word so clear and sure
to give a label or a tag
just to name the feelings of adequateness that I have .

Just between you and me
I can't call it love
It's a word so soiled and overused!

Love-

You call it

Weird,

Strange,

Irrational,

at times sheer madness.

But, if not for all of these

won't it be something else ?

or something else-

what I saw

in your expectations,

yearnings,

in your vulnerability,

the long silences,

your overbearing pride

and the sincere openness ?

I still don't know if it was love

I had seen

or just some silly dream of mine ?

I do not know if it was sadness

I could see

in your eyes-

was it a drop of tear ?

Your lips as silent as they always are,

just a little hesitant

or was it something else ?

I don't know if it was so easy for you

to end it all,

or actually it was and it always

is so simple to close and forget ?

Only for these unanswered queries

I still breathe

and I shall wait.

Sometimes

Sometimes it's good to drench in rain
to get cleansed of dirt
and of inhibited thoughts.

Sometimes it's good to read a poem
to be drowning in the words
and forget about pleasures and pain.

Sometimes it's good to plant a tree
to put a life for someone
and feel the touch of nature.

Sometimes it's good to be just me
to be a child again
and stare at the sky.

Sometimes it's good to cry
to do nothing about it
and just let it be.

"One day you might see yourself walking alone on a new path. No one seems in sight. No one seems to have walked the path earlier.

Don't give up midway. You are on a right track. Go On. Reach your dreams.

The reason why you don't see anyone is because the world is following you."

Your eyes

swamp me like the tsunami.

Your fingers

are writers,

creates so many stories.

You

are a distant star

shining, unnamed, unvisited.

Yet, my love

You seem so near!

------------------------------------

She

Shattered dreams hide

beneath her eyes,

her lips tremble..

But then

all she says is-

"How are you?"

---------------------------------

Winter Time

Tiny drops of the wintry rain
are creating music in my room,
and,

my windows are open.

Your warmth if I have lost,
let the cold enwrap me

..................................................................................................

And a tribute to a village where I have never lived :

I was lost,
and carefree,
amidst those unknown faces
meaningless talks,
in that smelly, crowded little compartment
of the last mail passenger !

I found myself,
and peace,
in that corner last seat
of the rickety old bus,
my face covered with grey dust,
I felt
the earthy smell of the half-finished, graveled road!

I found sleep
and life,
in that bamboo charpoy
under that ancient tree
near the familiar pond.
A muggy noon it was.
I could feel fresh mud!

I wish it is me

Poor, lost and just being happy.

.......................................................

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