YOUR DEVIL'S STORM AND MY GOD'S LIGHTNING

YOUR DEVIL's SERMON
the wounded...displaced:
flies feeding on skins of men
carry food to baby flies,
aren't wars encouraging,
nourishing the food chains
of predators,
of the wild and the human,
or the human wild
or the wild human?

THE DEVIL's STORM
there is a storm coming
to fulfill your desires,
dark clouds are innocent-
they inhabit your dreams,
make you powerful
smogs amidst.
unleash your hyenas
into the world of lions,
pray for the storm
for the storm shall
be your sole savior!

MY GOD's SERMON
Aren't you tired
Of being sad?
The comets have fallen,
Wish for a miracle...
Ah! Miracles are not untrue...
They wait for you
To believe in them
For they are born
From the faith within you.
And you...
You die a sloth's death
Every day, fighting
Against the hyenas
You have unleashed
Into the world around you!

MY GOD's LIGHTNING
Carricature!
Yes, You...
You pray to the dark storm,
Submit in fear
For the Evil has injected
Fright into your life,
But have you not witnessed
The lines of fate
That crack open the storm?
Like bright swords in the skies
Annihilating the greyish airs
Like an avatar of Franklin's kite!

WHEREVER THE NIGHTS ARE

We shall meet
wherever the nights are,
guarding the lilies
of the newborn Spring,
caressing the shy breeze
as it turns into a wind
that whistles through thatch
on a starry night,
offering mothers tunes
to sing to
their little monsters
with red, fair cheeks,
and toothless smiles!

We shall grow old
wherever the nights are,
waiting for fireflies
to cure the darkness of the wild.
Stars never twinkle down here,
winged yellows sparkle without fear!

What is lost is still there,
memoirs of roses bookmarked,
romance beyond the class hours,
or tears of teenage love,
in hearts that may skip a few beats
but never miss the parade’s call!

We shall love
wherever the nights are,
pacifying each other,
quarreling on alternate days,
and loving back more…
just like the moon
that dies out in a fortnight,
and is a poet’s sacrifice in the next!

We shall always be there
wherever the nights are…

BALLOON SELLER

Image by Silvio Zimmermann from Pixabay 

End of festive days,
smiles, high-fives and yays.
Everyone shall return
to their warm homes
untouched by gloomy air
a percent of which
fill my balloon pairs...
My balloon pairs...
They trap your gloomy air
tied around tight,
not to escape into the wild.
The kids shall have fancy toys,
back to their homes, masked in joys
but they shall miss my balloon pairs
until the year brings the festive fairs!

SPARK OF LOVE

Image by Jackson David from Pixabay 

your cheeks will turn red,
the winter grow frozen,
when I hold your hands
amidst the pavement crowd,
masked and quick.

whispering mothers,
yelling storekeepers
chaotic footsteps
and chirping sparrows
all shall be insignificant!

I will hold your hands
as we walk unheeded
through the stores downtown,
and you shall fall in love,
one more time, ten years after!

DIAMONDS IN MY POCKET

Image by 3209107 from Pixabay 

I followed the trail to my past
with no answers at present.
Dull, remorseful life preyed on me
like the droughts prey on farmer's will.
I walked hesitated, 
hoping for no gold
when the seas threw plenty 
of stones on my shore...
I picked them up,
stored in my pockets
for reasons none
I can boldly explain.
Along the night's darkness,
I walked into fear and fright...
and then the stones glowed:
my pockets had diamonds of my life!

THE MARICHA TRAIL

First appeared in the May 2021 issue of the international e-magazine, Guwahatian. 

[This tale is an imaginative account of the author, based on the epic Ramayana.]

“One should not run in search for gold, Sita. You are my jewel, and all my life, I wish to protect you from the clutches of greed!” uttered Rama when Sita urged him to go in search for the golden deer which she had just seen from a distance.

“But I wish to have it in my arms. Its dazzle has beautified the skies of Panchavati. Will you not fulfill this desire of mine, Rama?”

“The journey towards achieving riches without values is the biggest trap of destiny, Sita. No wonder the deer may seem alluring to you, but deep within its quest must lie a sinister truth which is waiting to be unfolded in the screams of greed!”

“You overthink, Rama!” Sita looked upset, and Rama could sense the darkness that was about to follow. His human self filled his mind with the need to impress his woman, while his godly being understood the gamble. To resolve the conflicts of his mind, Rama closed his eyes, and tried to bring his avatar to power.

Just then…

Oh! Wait!

Just then, he saw white dots swimming in the darkness of his closed eyes, and moving towards forming a bright dot of energy in the middle as if it wished to guide him to the truth. Rama focused on the brightness which glowed amidst his meditated blindness. He followed the energy to the realms of Panchavati where he saw the golden deer. It looked like an incarnation of Lakshmi, his true better-half, and it persuaded him to be hypnotized. Its skin was softer than silk, and eyes innocent as himself. As Rama moved closer to hold it, it ran away towards the banyan. Rama made several attempts to befriend the beauty but to no avail. The trap was real as he had warned Sita! What an irony! Now he is trapped in its trail.

Rama did not wish to return from his meditating quest for the deer. He went further into the grove guarded by the banyan. After a while, he saw the deer transform into a demon. He could recognize it. It was Maricha. He hid behind one of the trees, and watched Maricha take out a potion of golden sparkles, and drink it. He re-transformed into the deer, and Rama understood the story. He prepared to shoot it when he saw Lakshman and Sita coming from the other end. Both encountered the deer, and were baffled at its beauty. Before Rama could warn them, the deer quickly transformed into Maricha and attacked Lakshmana. While both fought, Rama ran towards them but his pace was restrained by the magic of illusion. He saw another man appear from within the woods behind, forcefully hold Sita by her waist, and disappear back into the green veil of magical misfortune. Maricha killed Lakshmana, and disappeared too. Rama shouted in despair…

…

…

“Rama,” uttered a voice.

“Rama.”

Rama came back to his senses and found Sita worried at his screams in meditation. Rama realized that only he could slay the deer, and not allow the events which he had seen in his guided sleep to occur. To direct the fate of events towards a different future, he said to Sita, “I will bring the deer for you. You must stay here with Lakshmana.”

Surprised, Sita smiled in joy. But it was Rama who knew deep within his heart that if he did not move then, he would lose his brother as well as his beloved.

He moved into the forest in search for Maricha, and the Maricha Trail beyond the banyan changed the course of destiny in a similar but a very different way!

IN MY SUMMER BREATH

the world turned bold
on a surprising note;
the grey turned green
like a wishful dream,
the cup of morning tea
held on to its heat,
winter was now asleep,
there bloomed my spring!

the ink did not blot:
like witch’s blood it flowed
until it touched the edge
of my notebook’s page.
I tried to restrict it,
the notebook:
did I fold it.
alas!
motivated like a soldier it moved,
no sword dared to halt the pen’s truth!

where were we?
between winter and spring, yes,
when the world grew daunting:
the cuckoos grew tired of singing,
and the crows of cawing,
big vessels were sinking…
I have waited since then
to bleed some ink on my page,
to cure some rust on my sword,
to trap some love in my summer breath!