रतजगे सपनें

From Pinterest

रतजगे से

सपने, औंधे मुँह

पड़े दिन में

Food

Sourced from Google

I remember it was a week day
Boarding the bus on a busy road
Was suddenly accosted by this
Vagabond of a man 
Not exactly in tatters, for sure
But had a glassy look about him
Rumpled hair and dry mouth

Reddish in colour, quaint manners...

I shrank as he extended 
A dirt striped hand
And mumbled something like
"Didi! give me a tenner please
Haven't eaten a morsel 
Whole day long"

Spontaneity had the better of me
As I handed him the note
He vamoosed as though he was never there!

The man next to me grinned derisively
"Made a fool of you! He's a dopey... you see"

We share the day with each other
And everyday invariably 
They leave the table littered with 
Sparsely eaten plates 
I tell them, "Its a waste! 
Recall those who do not have enough
Children of forgetful Gods..
They belong to this Earth
As you and I do"

They have stopped sharing the table with me
And call me names
Behind my back, of course!
I overheard one of them, the other day...

I shun them as well

It doesn't hurt anymore
The feeling is mutual 
As usual...


Note : "Didi" is an address for elder sister

This poem is shared with Poets United's Weekly Motif Food

Sourced from Google

Incredible!!

Pic from Google

In the mystique folds of Life

I have found YOU

In serendipitous moments

Of self discovery

And realized with awe

That I am not the Only One

Who has wept blood

And bled tears

In your loving embrace

I have found solace

And in bliss of ignorance

Named it a Miracle

That I am still alive!!

Pic from Google

This Poem is shared with Poets United

Tote Bag

From Google

tote bag

rests in peace within

my memoire

बसन्त

Pic from Google

क्या राज है ये

दरमियां हमारे

गहराता सा

उधेड़ बुन

सपनों का मगर

उलझाता सा

खामोशियों में

अफसाने हजार

दोहराता सा

बीते रुत वो

गरज बरस का

धुंधलाता सा

छंद सुगंध

गीत मोह मादक

छलकाता सा

बेनाम सही

चाह? खींच? कशिश?

मदमाता सा

मीत गीत ये

रीत से परे, चित

हरषाता सा

Dusk (Haiku)

day's end

my mother's vermilion

on the sky

Foot Note : This Haiku was first  posted in Your Space of Muse India ejournal

The Old Man And His Songs

The old man sits by the road

A huge round turban like a crown

On his dome-shaped head

Layers of vibrant colours

A red and a gold robe

He adorns

Flowing like a crimson fall

Around his scrawny frame

The once-white-now-yellow yards 

Stretch from his waist to his bow legs 

Right till the ankles cling

The bow in his right hand is poised

Always to kiss the strings lightly 

Drawn on his left arm -"The Sarangi its called"

He utters and starts singing along

His sonorous lilt

Reaches up to the sky and talks to the 

Clouds dancing in sunshine

Radiant - fragrance of a gypsy land

Carries the breeze with every note

Crescendo....Diminuendo....wave after wave

Rise and fall in the resonance of his heart

He smiles as the song ends on a sweet echoing chord

The corner of his eyes crinkle

And the smile etched on his face illumine

The rugged contours, the stained yellow teeth

And the gaps in-between shimmer

The silver coins left by passers-by at his feet

In enrapture of something beyond

I ask him,"What song is it?

Where have you learnt?"

The hollows of his cheeks quiver in sheer glee

And his answer is as simple as he

"Life teaches many."

With that he arranges his bow 

Again to brush past the strings in a

soft caress

He smiles to his soul's content

Till the stars lit up the firmament

And the shadows extend deep and tall