Engraving our stories

Time passes, turning everything to memories and dust

The flesh and blood stories of all known are oft forgotten, 

Lost to the unforgiving eroding winds and water, scattered

Burying the remnants into soil forming rock and peat

Some stories are carried across

In words and songs, some in artifacts left behind

I have no fear in the treading of time erasing our stories

To you they would be mediocrity a fleeting past, like most

I will have carved our's on my femurs, come end

Vivid descriptions of you, how my soul has loved

To be discovered by an ardent avid archaeologist

To be read like folklore, of ancient tribes faded long ago

Perchance

Often our words are walled

Beyond the walls of a constant absence

That breaches at a sudden presence

Washing away sense in its deluge

Like that other day, when you called

Abrupt, out of turn

I being my absolute epitome of control 

My walls still crumbled, painting me foolish

If then you should judge me

For one interaction post peolonged absence

I have nothing to show, other than loss

And to question my own fortitude 

I wish to curse you

Kanha, I wish to curse you, for the absence you paint

I wish you would hurt, for the hurt you cause

What do I curse you with, what curse can I cast?

For even the darkest of my curses shall be in irony

    I wish you walk on a dusty road, 

    have a thorn poke your foot

    may it hurt you enough to limp

may you call out in pain to Maiyya

Yet Kanha! The thorn would melt at your lotus feet

I wish a burn as you were lighting a lamp

   In a sudden lapse of judgement, 

   may you burn your fingertip

   may you call out in pain to Maiyya

Yet Kanha! The flame shall glow brighter in your glow

What do I curse you with, what curse can I cast?

For even the darkest of my curses shall be in irony

I wish you were pounding spice

   a gust of wind blows mace into you eye

   make your eye feel the burn like mine

   may you call out in pain to Maiyya

Yet Kanha! The mace shall find coolness in your eye

I wish you were sewing your robes

  a slip of the pin pierces you index finger

  make you feel a searing pricking like my heart feels

  may you call out in pain to Maiyya

Yet Kanha! The pin cannot move for your index finger is control itself

What do I curse you with, what curse can I cast?

For even the darkest of my curses shall be in irony

For all I know, you could mock my curse, even see it through

Yet you could call Maiyya, who shall run to you

I have called you for years, yet you keep me calling

So, Kanha! I shall live this curse of living in your absence

bartender! one Dark elixir please

Who knows if I had to be honest

For if I had, would it have been well received

If not for the facades of people pleasing

The world would be awash with sounds of nay

With no regrets or remorse

When I pass by those I once knew

I can feel a sense of betrayal

Reeking from them, in silent glances

I rather call Hemlock a gift

For in its darkness are shades of truth

Unlike people's words, in toxic residues

The cup of poison at least takes me away

in her Hearth

There is nothing more beautiful

Than to find myself in a descent 

Into a lake of magma you hold

That warms every inch of me

For in that forge, I find passion

Flowing into, countless times

Floated, forged, hardened

To be moulded back again

In the absence of such fierceness 

Every ounce of me longs you

To be doused in the oil and heat

To be melted,  enamoured, recast

Into the absence of sanity

Isn't it fun, to revel in shades of disarray

Where no coherence of thoughts rise

No sentences form, no speech rises

The lips stay sealed, yet the mind screams 

Isn't that our chance meetings?

Where neither complements each

No words are exchanged, not even under breath

Our lips stay sealed, yet our hearts scream

Isn't this the rest of our lives?

Where nothing seems worth living to

No urges rave, not even the fire of raw passion

Our lips stay sealed, yet our soul erodes.

The Asylum Of Loons by the lake

It is another windy misty evening, by the lake

An asylum of Common Loons mark the coming dusk

Amidst the moon and sun's fight to stay

I ignore either, waiting for the stars to rise

The hooting Loons embalm me in their  lunacy

As if to haunt and taunt, tugging at my semblance of peace

Amidst my fight of loneliness and lone

I try to ignore them, for I await the stars

I have traced constellations in my diary for years

They seem to hold a permanence seldom seen in life

Amidst the fight of the axial tilt of earth's spin

I have always ignored them, for I camp out in Summers.

These Loons must know me by now I am sure

They seem to often walk by me, past wading the lake

Amidst their fight of curiosity and the fright of humans

They seem to ignore my belonging to the human race

Maybe that is what acceptance is, I am loon

Unlike these Loons, I cannot swim nor fly

Amidst the fight of admiration and wishing a rebirth as one

I have learnt to ignore my egoistical  existence. 

Inspiration fades to macabre

Breathing is but a curse

I for one know better than most

The others like me who struggle

Gasp and wish to pull through

Each bout of breathlessness and each choking

I wish for it to be the end 

Yet that bloody antihistamine, feeds life

As I am forced to consume it, for work calls

There could be a day, should be , maybe one

When I would let the breath pass

Wish it ceases to tease my alveoli

Bring my annoying life back

This could be seem like a lament, yet isn't

For there is nothing that I fight or live for

I am just a bored bard, out of ink and paper

Worse, out of inspiring thoughts too

Exit, Stage Left

This poet wishes to silently die, 

 abrupt, unknown, unclaimed

And to such he has put together a plan,

 sinister like

Events he has set in motion

  crafted carefully

In absolute secrecy from his own hands

Maybe a summit, Kalsubai or Salher

Then leap in a supposed slipping

Or maybe a night in spirited high

Over the limits to poison his blood

These are just a few known modes

Through which the poet seeks an exit

Yet until his vows are untied, 

 come September

He bids his time, waiting for his fix

marital marketing

She is mine, he is mine

That started off interesting

The date was saved and cherished

Then the roads felt mined

There was an 'I' that got lost

And then some eyes went watery

Parts of the joy started to cost

The rest was like broken pottery

One could debate marital demerits

Yet only the victims of it know true

It preys upon innocent minds 

And then those hearts only rue

Rebirth and Death

We die many deaths unbeknownst to us, silently altered

Changing at instances, for good or for worse

Sometimes the cadavers of our dead selves

Are often left in the sun, picked upon by vultures

It is in our nature to curse, at time's dissent 

To fight against the obscurity, swim against the tide

Often yielding woe, sometimes faux gratification

In fool's errands, regretful musings, dead and cold

I have died so many times, been born again

Yet the memories of my deaths ring profound

I can agree to time's over ruling and subterfuge

But I would forever refuse my ability to love die

Find the wind beneath our wings

We had a good run, it was exhilarating in love and living

Now we must fade like the morning mist in the first light

You and I are birds, we have soared the skies, dauntlessly

The dawn has arrived, we have to fly off alone yet strong

We flew under darkened skies, fiery ones too

Watched sunsets, as we flew into them, painted red

We watched each other, breaking each other's falls

We have become everything we both offered to have

In this final flight, as your mind has already flown away

Let me watch you fly away first, fade into a speck

Then perch one last time by myself, soak in our memories

Circle our old nest, let the winds carry me away

I Digress

I forgot to mention, my left reversing light is broken

If I was out at night, on some sleepy dark road

I would need to be extra careful, and keep my blinkers on

You see, if only one prays for me, there isn't much safety

Now we could talk about getting it fixed, Diwan auto is nearby

It wouldn't cost much for the SX4, at most about 300 with labour

I rather not change it, and keep my blinkers on

You see, I have tried prayers and it was left unanswered

I digress, this was to be a poem on how I feel about life

But then we spoke of my car, and here we are lost hoplessly

I could state the car is a metaphor for how my life is

You see, I tend to miss your love and this happens to me.

pondering upon life

Can someone tell me, where do these butterflies hide

From noon to four in the evenings

I haven't followed them enough, I would be delighted to know

Pray tell, if you are privy to such knowledge

I think they vanish, like a lover's love

As unfathomable as it could seem, it is a degree of shallow

For all the foolish attributes one speaks of about longing

Can one answer where it often veers off

I wouldn't, rather shouldn't give in to such negativity

Or hanker on wanting to course correct all things around

But then as a mere mortal who lives, feels, and loves

How can I evade the pangs of uncertainties thereof 

It is another day, the dog's been walked

She can unwind, hasslefree, but those songs

How she wishes to be selectively deaf

To tune out the barrage of insolent lyrics

She inhales deep, for momentary numbness

As if to barricade, albeit partially, and party

She is in parley, between taste and distaste

But the music, oh lord, the choices of folks

How do I know them, she introspects

Then reflects on her unrelenting candor 

Drifitng into sleep, one eye at a time

In a state of semi-trust, amomgst trustworthy

Marred in paradoxes, yet it is an escape

A way to evade and rest, a way of calm 

But truth be told

"You look worried, do you want to talk?" 

Her voice sounded worried, I was dug in deep

My head was hurting, but not my mind 

I needed some peace, so I had to shut her out

"Yes dear, I am worried we would fight"

I smirked at her, out of my need for peace

I was worn out, I had to get some sleep

So I reclined, as she looked at me aghast

She left the room, turned my study dark

I stared out the window, overlooking the park

She called out again, "Come get some sleep"

Being too tired to engage, i gently rest my feet

Some time past the witching hour, I woke 

She stood at the door, watched me light my smoke

I waved disgruntled, sent her back to bed

Dawn arrived, she packed her bags and left

I breathed in relief, for now I was at peace

I'll tell you something worth remembering

And do remember this util your last breath

A spouse may bring little joys, often to your life

But only their absence will let you be in peace

Hey Brother! Could you?

How would you know my brother?

What if those orchids have 

         forever wanted to speak?

and in the absence of a listener earlier

         they wept, in solitude, 

         bloomed and faded

waiting for a chance, to shine in the light

to share their smiles, in turn blooming eyes 

I would not know, I don't grow flowers

so i would want to know, get to know them

does a Dendrobium Sonia sing?

          it surely seems to have that face

Do Phalaenopsis suddenly spring into Jazz? 

          it has the absolute colours to

The Cattleya seem to stand by, observing                      

          as if they are the choir singers

          waiting to break into Georgian chants

Ah! so much to know, So little time too

But brother Unnath, let me know

Should you chance upon these beauties singing

          should you spy on them and find them so

Tell me their songs, maybe translate,

          I cant understand or speak Kannada

          you do, hey they are your flowers 

Maybe translate them for me, 

I would want to write

          flow in their music,

          transform their thoughts

Write a few verses, 

          find a different dimension of life.

Bik raha tha, teri dukaan par

Isme tera kasoor nahi 

Yeh sochkar maaf kar doon

Khudko, tumko, 

hum dono ko

Tere pyar par mujhe yakeen tha, 

Tabhi to bik gaya, teri ek awaz par

Aise to aukaat ka bada guroor tha

Teri wafa ke liye to mai bheeg, bik, gaya

Har us chaurahe par,  jahan magroor tha kabhi

Dho aaya ro kar, toot kar, rengte

Tere pyar par mujhe yakeen tha,

Tabhi to bik gaya, teri ek aawaaz par

Aaj tu jo hai, mai tha kabhi, dilo dimaag se

Shayad tere pyaar mein wo kabiliyat thi

Suna tha pyaar mein rooh badal deta hai jism

Tu jo thi, mai nahi ban saka kabhi

Tere pyar par mujhe yakeen tha, 

Tabhi to bik aaya, bina lafz giraaye

Sugary Dreams

White polka dots on blue, wrapped around her high

And her black curls flutter, gently in the night

She rambles, in volumes of slurry words

Smiling with her lips, behind the teal pillow

It's twenty past two, and the night seems too young

Yet in her her head, the morning bell has rung

As she lights up another blunt, she wishes time would pause

And maybe by a chance, the sun would keep the dark

She knows too well, that in a few hours from now

She would head home with half a mind

And then she would wait for another dawn

To find the other half she assumed was lost

Tomorrow For Sure

I would hate to oil those hinges of my oak wood door
The creaking has become a routine to my chores
When I water my garden hedges, and dandelions
I remember that I must oil the hinges, but forget
Now it has become a routine, the forgetfulness too
Each night before I sleep, I deem to do it tomorrow
Like a host of other lapses, and slip ups that happen
I spend my day, waiting for betterment to arrive
Whereupon I would alter the perception of myself
Only to forget that too in chasing my harrowing past
To rinse and repeat, and promise myself again
Such are the days that I have spent, almost illicit
I know these are my false virtues, malformed habits
Of fraudulent musings, and weak-willed reaching outs
I shall begin another day, pseudo proud
Feel ashamed of failings, feel better next dawn

Generic Days

The mind has been empty, void of reasons 

And then there are thoughts, a wild steed

Traversing fiery bushes, jumping over ravines

Inducing exhilaration, sometimes, not

Like an old box file, of old records, moth eaten

Coffee stained papers, smeared with lipstick

In shades of mauve, scarlet reds, blood like

Stuck playing like a broken record, pin and all

The sun of lament has set, drying my will

Crumbling like sun dried tomatoes, atop pizza

Just before it's thrust into a wood fired oven

These days are simple, there isn't much to think

Except cooking a meal, or of mixing a drink

Unlike those old days, of watching stars fade

Dusk to dawn, distanced, in each other's ears

And chance meetings post, to be in an embrace

Those days were not simple, but beautiful

These days are simple, the sunsets aren't pink

Gently isn't love in wild

Her skin feels like Ivory, ablaze and sintering

In the pursuit of a racing heart, rumbling loud

While her fingers close around mine, we find us

As her knees hold my hips, clasped 

In her heaving breaths amidst moaning

Is a spiral of ecstasy that paints madness

Into my mind's hungry eyes, awakened wide

That wishes to swallow her with my eyelids

Her voice tantalizes my body and soul

In every moment of her calling my name

She is, the goddess of lust personified

Imprisoning me to touch and taste her

In between kisses, where our tongues taste

Exchange words we each convey bewitched

I feel her engulf me, sweat and blood

As we make love like a raging firey storm.

Wanderlust

Working around everyone's schedules

I forgot I had left my own aside, carelessly

If this was selfless, this was self harm too

For my mind has forever been a wanderer

I bow to no man or woman, nothing stills me

My feet are wheels that wish to roam endlessly

For the years that I had imprisoned my heart

My soul woke up, wishing to breathe free

I was born a vagabond, my heart flies high

Into the clouds, over the misty mountains

It wishes to roll upon the sun kissed sands

I seek my release, uncharted, unclaimed

For those who wish to walk along

I have this offer, it is my heartfelt song

"Know yourself, Know it in the sights you see,

Touch the lights, soil, air, breathe the imagery

ramblings

The Women In STEM

Make mine a cauldron, a melting pot of pure madness

Where chaos falls to order, where order is chaos

Make me a recipe of the universe soup, full of wonder

Amid Raman's scatter, Jocelyn's pulsars

Back then when a woman's place was in the kitchen

Catherine cooked up math, she wrote the recipe

Thus Neil, Buzz, and Michael were served the moon

They looked at us, I am sure momma must've felt proud

As the men ponder upon the stars,like moms they pack

Some help us read better, some help us understand

Sabine and Katie help us believe, setting the mind free

They invoke within us,  the fire of vehement curiosity

Those that make me whole

The crabs were excellent, I agree

As I paused mid bite, you both looked messy

And we three pointed fingers at each other

That was a beautiful evening to remember

That dork was as cranky as ever

You crabby, and you know me as a king crab

Yet the three of us are an uncommon fit

Like the elements of some perfect storm

As we sat on the cliffs late that evening

Watching the seagulls, by the lighthouse

When the sunset painted the skies orange

We blended into one continuous silhouette

The post dinner walk was just as mad

We three seemed to be connected at the hip

I wouldn't have been wrong, if I had thought

A soul can exist in three distinct instances

the sun and sand of past

The southwestern sea is a raging beast

Of lovely sands and unruly waves

My memory is of dainty feet, searching shells

And running into me doing just the same

While we both have been generally alike

I hadn't realised, how much, how very

We seemed like two rushing waves

That crash into the beach, foaming mid swell

The dinner that night, the long walk post

The night you and I awoke to us

Much of the rest is a wilful blur, for reasons

I retain your infantile sleep on my chest

Brighter sounds of young hearts

Are often heard in the valleys of love

Many have ventured, few have returned

And a lot has ben said, a lot more penned

Critical is a heart, once bitten

For it reeks of pains from smitten

Steady your heels, if you wish a run

On the road of the treacherous turns

Yet I assure, for to love is to yearn, 

Often though love fades too fast

Return now, all those fragile of heart

The others, run ablaze and fight to last

Styx and the boat

Won't break my soul 

Nor will your despise 

 Or the hurt of absence

neither your finding love 

 My missing of your gentle touch

Neither your abjection

Neither my unending trepidation

It could break though 

 Crumble, if you fall, 

I have broken most 

  that often is in the past

Yet now knowing full well

 I will be denied to

That knowlegde, the stark truth

 Keeps me fragile

Like glass

Awaiting shattering, 

 

Further

 More

Ferry's Wharf

Paper boats in mud puddles, in July

Just after the rains, joyous evenings

The gentle wind blows ripples, moves the boats

Until the paper soaks water, sinks slowly

Paper boats are fun, they last for a while

They never overstay their welcome

For eyes that have cried at their drowning

A hand has promptly floated another one

Those fun moments of rains in our childhood 

Are moments that remain with us on Styx too

I haven't been there, but we will all get there

I just hope to bring paper sheets for our meet

I make excellent paper boats, strong ones too

So when we are rowed, fret not one's drowning

I shall run my hands on your head, pacify you

Set afloat another one, watching it sail through

Evening, with a chance of showers

Evening egrets, bring seething regrets

Into the hearts that ponder in love, drenched

Wanton cravings and petrichor serve only none

A lover's absence is a gust of wind mid rain

That makes the heart and bones shiver

Those in search for these bygones, writhe

Singe their heart in embers long cold

Pity falls, and crouched behind lonely walls

Lies hearts that have been lied to of hope

"Come hither, come forth" is often a calling 

The darkness of all's end sings to such souls

One should know better, to walk along towards

For there is nothing better the future holds

So they ask often

"Tell me darling, 

   tell me soon, 

   tell me true"

Why is it that my smiling heart ,

  is now embroiled in rue?

Their cries are best unheard, for lost loves do

They ask of things that strike one's soul

If I was the one that broke a lover's heart

My soulful conscience would hurt me too

Ramblings

I am busy

  don’t keep asking please.

    Having a mad day 

     Ritesh!

I find poetry

  In every thing you say

    How does it feel

      Muse!

It is a Thursday

  The brain is frozen

    The summer melts us

      Both

The world wants a piece

  Of you, of me

    I want to hear words

      Your's

This coffee was good

   I thought of you

     Missed you, again

      I

       

      

 

Flowers fade, at the end of May

One needs to realize, love doesn't really exist

For only birth, pain, hunger and death does

And we seem to subliminally enslave

People under false pretenses

Those we term as ones we love

Are of no value once they overstep

If love was so real then pray tell

Why does one feel the angst, lf remorse

Writers and poets are vagabonds 

They roam roads and their sense are seldom found

Like a heart seeking to express

Trekking along the Kaas or Pushpavati valleys

Only to know these are momentary musings

Come Monday and reality shall bite

love peddling is a lost endeavour

Hark and barrage, if that is your comfort

Whilst you peddle the failure of humanity

Stating love transcends, or is eternal

Be in the know, it is a fool's errand

It would not be for it's on my deaf ears

It would fall on a deaf and mute soul

One riled and riddled, soiled and muddled

Extracted and doused into perils of futility

Even a spider would know, when to give up

Yet the heart of man has forever forgotten

It has tried to make, and into reason 

Knowing the truth of such obnoxious vile

If you want the answers to such

Then meet me beside the melting stones

The earth regurgitates what it has long melt

To discard again like a broken toy

While you may call this a cycle, and or time

I know of this as an silly engagement

Built to capture the fragile nature of man

I seek not such wanton fragility

ramble

Maybe its starlight, maybe stardust

You are made of dust, I am made of light

For to be eternal, one needs to be dust

I fade out, absorbed by you

I know there is a universe of reasoning

That negates your need or desire to reach out

Casting my calling to dimensions of irrelevant

Yet, I seem to yearn for you in any possible way

I have written words, they have often meant

This one sounds silly, seems almost a lament

My intrusions only seem to invite your ire

To only hasten my perpetual fall from grace

Single Malt is For Singled outs

I set my tumbler, always to the right side 

A splash of lemon, on six cubes of ice

I pour generously, splashing just precise

Molten sunset, in my silent nights

Then I dip a finger, sprinkle one for those

Who have left me half way, without goodbyes

I dip one again, sprinkle one for love

My love's sunset, and I am fresh out of life

The whiskey helps, keeps me all numb and nice

Barricading the hurt and pain, just to suffice

Yet the brain under the drowsy spell sings

For a broken soul like me, is but a surprise

If my drink runs out, should my glass be dried

I will drink my last, hidden behind your frame

For nothing else seems to make the cut 

To drown my lonely soul, and I have tried

Postulates

If I was a firefly

 you would be the luciferin

 My soul, oxygen

 Consumed by you   

 Causing twinkling light

If I was a field

  You would be the sunflower

  My soul would nourish

  Consumed by you

  Following the light

If I was a cask

  You would be whiskey

  My soul would flavour

  Consumed by you

  Emulsifying the light

If I was anything

  You would be the all

  My soul would have yearned

  To be consumed

  Becoming the light

Indebted

Would you know, and it may be pointless too

If I faded away, didn't rise one dawn, sudden

You wait knowing, I would intrude, as always

Then wait to find nothing, for days and days

Would your mind want to know, investigate?

Where someone so much in love had faded?

Would it be good riddance, to my intrusions?

Or would you at the very least say a prayer?

I know it is ungrateful of me, to even think

For just your thoughts should be good enough

Mine, about you maybe even uttering my name

Should make me feel blessed twice as much

blues and whites

Dendrites, 

mine, 

you graze them 

Each and every

In your gentle setting

I feel 

every fragment of me

   exploding, in unison

    Into millions

Of fragments 

 like porcelain

Shattered

And then

 You rise

Make me whole

 Sans cracks

  Renew me

In shades 

  of blue and white

  Entangled 

   In your thoughts

Waiting, 

 In bated breaths

  Falling into a spiral

 Of rebirths

  In madness, 

   of love 

    Of lust

   Often of longing