I had written this poem in 1998 in the memory of a friend and it was published in The Asian Age in 2000.

Mahananda

 

 Mahananda, you left us at a loss

on the stage of the world

leaving incomplete your act

in the play of life.

We had great expectations

in your performances

but, alas!

Cruel destiny

played his role ruthlessly.

The tree that had borne you

is drying with grief,

its agony and wailing

has created a deep dark sky

and it rains often

whenever winds blow across.

Ah! What meant life to you?

Nothing, but the cruelty of time.

You were the bud

plucked before flowering.

Whom do you blame?

Time, god or destiny?

No Mahananda, who says you died?

No one can kill you,

no one has the right

to do so.

Life and death are two

shores of a river and

you have just left

from one shore to other

and it’s our inability to visualize

your world

because of deep waters

and tides

and also we are afraid

of our own life.

 

 

 

 

 

The Asian Age, 2000

Sparrow Haven: The Forces

Sparrow Haven: The Forces: The Forces Calls in the Distance Shadows moving in Peeps and Squeaks get closer The Forces are Gathering The Feeders are Filling Not Fast ...

Sparrow Haven: The Forces

Sparrow Haven: The Forces: The Forces Calls in the Distance Shadows moving in Peeps and Squeaks get closer The Forces are Gathering The Feeders are Filling Not Fast ...

Silent song

  

Twinkling stars were not ready

To go behind the spreading clouds

And moon seemed fighting

Intermittently to show

Its milky whiteness

And my heart was rejoicing

Breathing deeply, as if,

You were close to me.

Cool breeze was blowing

Rhythmically,

Gently pushing the leaves to sing

And dance with its tune.

But trees covering their bodies

With shawl of darkness

Were almost shivering with cold.

Time had stopped to witness

Nature’s game of hide and seek.

Nearby silver mountains

Were also glittering

With a few bare black spots

Indicating their newness, just as

They had been taken out of mine

And then there was silence

A laudable silence

Everyone could feel

And if had little knowledge of

Nature’s tongue

Would be overjoyed

Hearing that.

Excitement for the moment was at

Its zenith

And my heart was

Wondering in the heavenly

World of dreams, as happy as it should be.

O! Mother, I was reborn in your lap.

 

 

 

The Asian Age, 2001

 

 

 

 

I had written this poem in 2002 and it was published in State Times, Jammu.  It was gloomy atmosphere of J & K. .

Hellish heaven

 

Last Night

In the dream

I walked into the heaven

Just to get surprised,

Surprised to be greeted by

All odds:

So many houses,

All empty and destroyed,

Bloody and muddy,

Broken walls and holes,

Here and there

Peeping eyes,

Hungry faces,

Orphaned children,

Widowed girls,

Old people

Crawling as worms,

No voice

Just whispers.

 

I ran to the other side

Of the Heavenly river

But there too was

A land devastated and deserted

Like a war field:

Only cries and wails,

Miles and miles,

Frozen faces,

Parched lips,

Eyes turning into holes

And cheeks into pits,

Skeletons and skeletons,

And ghosts and ghosts.

Oh! God!

What happened to your heaven?

Or am I in the hell?

Why so many people are crying?

Where is the melody of heaven?

It is just wailing …wailing…

So many orphans, so many widows?

Where are the young couples?

Are all dead or sent away?

Is this heaven?

Or hellish heaven?                                                                             The State Times, 2002