Take I and discuss I
Her life and freedom,
The restrictions upon her,
The things she can do,
She cannot,
The do’s and dont’s for her,
But she too a soul,
She too a mind and heart,
She too a spirit,
She too has a life
Pulsating within,
She also after a man.
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Divine, Cosmic Consciousness,
Creational Force,How to, how to approach Her,How, how to invoke HerMantric Devi, Syllabic Devi,One who is Speech,The Alphabet of Language,How to, how to approach Her,How, how to?Dispelling darkness within,Discarding avarice, greed, lust,One can, one can DeviWith a sacred heart,Sacred and sacrosanct heart.
I saw
Shiva lingaIn a dreamMystically,The supernatural auraLuring meFor a worship.
Burquawalli, couldn’t you recognize me,
Cast a cursory glance over me?
Even after India’s freedom,
Why are women, widows and childrenIn a neglected stateEven after the tryst with destinyLiberated from the shackles of slavery?
Mukhamantri on coming from Harvard, having delivered a lecture
People saying it’s no less than a matter of jokeThat he really a great son of the soil.The villagerly people, a mass of illiterates, fools and rusticsDebating and discussingHe has really brought glory and fameTo the nondescript villageThat a son of the soil went to Harvard as for lecturingBefore the expertsAnd how did they hear…
Searching for wild irises
Going by the way,Marking the beauty ofNature and its phenomena,The panorama clad in mysteryAnd fineness.But sometimes trauma and bad timesTake overAnd it comes in the life ofEvery human beingWhen he needs to survive and sustainSomehowEven though under hardship and suffering.
In Gender studies,
Culture Studies.
Burkhawalli,
Just one word saying it all.
What sort of character is she?
Suppressed, oppressed,
A tortured self
Or a liberated one in spirit?
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Take a dip into the river,
Early in the morning,Warm yourself with fireNear the ghat,Do the hasty namaskarShivering with coldAnd get ready to takeKhichdiMost likely at noon.
I think the world is mine,
As I have come to realize it,I am a traveler from farAnd have to go there.
And smiled I
Clicked he the cameraTo catch it withinThe smiling faceOf mine.
The poet with the mobile handset talking with,
With the help of the mechanical, electrical, electronic or digital mouse,E-mailing, faxing and scanning and sending,Putting the poems on the internet with the websites of his own.
The yellow-legged green pigeon
Flying in droves,Coupling withAnd in pairs,The hariyal,The parakreet,The yellow footed green pigeonflying overTo the tree tops,Perched on the branchesLooking strangely,The hariyals,Green hariyals,Yeello-footed hariyals.
Risking his life, comes he the snake charmer
In a ganjee and a lungi or like that,Half-clothed and half-fed charmerWith the snakes into the bamboo basketsKept one over another,Hanging by the bamboo pole over his shouldersThrough ropes at the two endsContaining inWith the cobras ever ready to hiss and hood forthBlackly, white and brownish,Caught in the bushes and the anthills,Fields and fallows,The tree…