The gale gradually gains momentum
silvery strands of lightning angrily strike the seas
boisterous clouds let loose the pelting marbles
pummeling the deck mercilessly
sheets of rain obscure the view
churlish waves crash and bang against the hull
furious foam spills over the bulwark
it is an unevenly pitched battle
the fury of nature giving no quarter
an emergency like situation prevailing
the aging ship rolls ponderously
valiantly trying to stay afloat.
I stop mid-guffaw
to find your eyes on me
and though I am not the blushing kind
I feel heat travelling up my neck
I look away flustered
but find my gaze drawn to you
you are still looking my way
is it mere caprice or an irrefutable truth
and I swear my heart somersaults
you say something
but the roar in my ears is loud and drowns your voice
I breathe in shallow bursts
none of our friends notice anything
with trembling fingers I gather my books
hugging them to my errant heart
I quietly try to slink away
Before my eyes can give my heart away.
खिड़की पर बूँदों की थिरकन सरगोशियाँ है करती
कभी धीरे-धीरे थाप दे कर, तो कभी घुँघरूओं की तेज झंकार सी।
कभी दस्तक देती हैं बेतहाशा, ढूँढती हैं मुझे
तो कभी आगाह करती हैं कि बारिश है तेज।
सराबोर करें कभी मेरे दिल का प्याला
इक हूक सी उठे और मन हो बावला।
तमाम रात चला बूँदों का रक्स
वाह-वाह करते रहे झूमते दरख्त।
भीगता ही रहा मेरा शहर दिन भर
दिलों में मलाल बरकरार रहा पर।
बूँद-बूँद कर बस पिघलता रहा आसमान
रिसता रहा गम, दिल था कुछ पशेमान।
आँखों के अश्क बह गए बारिश की ओट में
सिसकियाँ दब गई बादलों की गर्जन में।
वो जो चली एक बूँद छोड़ अपना ठिकान
वो तो बस ढूँढ रही थी मेरा ही मकान।
मैं तो बूँद सी बस छलकती ही रहूँ
प्यार हूँ मैं, बस बरबस बरसती रहूँ।
I apologize to my non-Hindi friends for my inability to translate these couplets on rain. I did try but the essence was lost. 🙏🏼
The day is innocent but the night is crafty
working overtime its spinnerets of complexities
weaving a web so intricate and labyrinthine
which welcomes with its nuanced artistry
of spangled stars and galvanic galaxies
I fall under its black magical spell
to find myself intoxicated
by the darkness
that beckons so alluringly and suddenly
I find myself spiralling into a nightmare
I scramble and scratch and slip and slide
skinning my knees and heart
just when I think I am losing the battle
my eyes flutter open, my tenacity wins
I like days; they are innocent
nights are as deviously crafty as they can be!
The monsoon is having its last hurrah
Before relinquishing stage to much awaited autumn
It arrived quietly
No drum rolls of thunder
No flashes of lightning
No rushing of clouds
It started hesitatingly
A bit unsure of self
A gentle drizzle
Testing notes
Then gradually it warmed up
Gained strength
The drizzle turned into a downpour
Steady, stacatto beats
Drenching every being
In its upbeat notes
The melody enrapturing the soul
For the finale act
Darkest clouds gathered
Lightning flashed
Thunder clapped uproariously
Creating a symphony oft heard
But with fresher notes every time
The trees bowed to its masterful display
The nature dressed in its Sunday best
Stood up for ovation
At the dying notes
As monsoon bowed out gracefully
The heart thirsted for encore.
(Recently I have been sharing poems on rains on a daily basis. This one is the last, for now!)
Hidden beneath a pile of laundry, a soiled secret
sunk under a sink full of dirty dishes, a sodden regret
pinned between the grocery lists, some guilt
swept away by the mop and the broom, a bucketful of unfulfilled wishes
sucked in by a vacuum cleaner, all enthusiasm
held down by a pile of files, weighty questions
drowned by different voices, creating cacophony
skulking behind the laptop like a scolded child
sulking underneath the smartphone, a lone desire
lost in the amazon forest of eking a living
life is bruised, battered and bypassed on weekdays;
days that are chockablock with the art of surviving
and then…
a night of languid rediscovery
unrestrained giggles, tousled heads,
teenage tangle of lanky limbs on my bed
brighten my late, lazy morning
as I follow a flitting butterfly,
trace the delicate veins of fallen leaves
inhale deeply the fresh smell of grass
and listen to an old forgotten melody
I feel life unhurriedly seeping back into me
I finally come alive on Sundays
to tackle the days that follow.
I watch the fat raindrops fall
gently they sit there bubble like
on a pool of water
their ephemeral irridescence mesmerising
and then they are gone
as I sit ensconced inside
the warmth of my abode
the transience of raindrops
a case of learning for me;
to shine in the limited time I have.
The swollen, serpentine stream was in spate
babbling and burbling it moved at a rapid pace
the vibrant, verdant valley with vantage views
was resplendent in efflorescence of myriad hues
a carnival of fragrance blew in the air
the plump, pregnant raindrops plopped without a care
the canopy of leaves feebly pierced by chords of light
the cicadas played a symphony, and all was right.
The skies have opened up suddenly
raindrops are chasing each other unrestrainedly
a cool zephyr redolent with petrichor blows pleasantly
cinereous clouds play catch and trace patterns lazily
a young lanky lad drenched to the skin
lets loose a lambada jig unmindful of his scolding kin
two girls place paper boats delicately in the puddle
a couple of pups take shelter in a doorway and huddle
it’s a beautiful, picturesque evening
but without you, it has no meaning.
I am rooting the dirt soil of my brain
looking for a wormhole for connection
Alas! All that comes to my mind
is insipid, lacklustre and shallow
I am no poetry jock to be able
to weave meaningful verses
from disparate words, with no commonality thread
so I give a decent burial to the idea of a poem for today.
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