Sunday, July 26, 2009

The wandering mind stops......

Crowded thoughts at the taking off on a journey. Missing some. Remembering some. Voices , calls, and all is peace again.....

Their Children,
then grand ones happen;
They thrive, immersed
in the trials
and tribulations of the ,
living of these.
Sometimes wiping tears,
sometimes indulgent,
sighing in content.

And soon,
the heart is deaf
to the will of the mind;
It is time to go
and they leave
those they
have cherished;
Having watched them grow
through the mist
of days gone by,
boys to men,
girls to women.

in far off lands
as another set of folks
step out to
begin their own lives,
Oceans away,
here in their own land
the rain has cleared
the clouds part
urged along by the wind
like a curtain at a heavenly window;
There is a light,
I look up,
and see them there.

"Go forth"
they say,
pointing the path,
"We will be with you
in every prayer recited,
every song sung,
every delicacy served,
and every flower
that will adorn
the garlanded necks."

As I get off
the bird that flies me,
I sense fingers,
at the shoulders.
They watch
those who have come
to receive me,
smile to themselves,
happy at the
and nudge each other,
watching their youngest
bustle around
His sister has come.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

The Show : Off or On ?

In response to this post by Braja of 'Lost and Found in India' on those "perceived" to be showing off :-) Pictures by Braja

Only the beholders'
sharp astral eyes,
the "showing off";
While some sit,
electric on the wire,
looking this way and that,
ignoring the neighbor,
Watching the world
Go noisily by.....

And one swinging type,
unable to watch
the world in chaos
simply slides around
the wire,
to watch
a peaceful sky,
no buses, no honks,
no garbage,
Just the sky....

But two inquisitive types
peering down,
remind you,
about Life.
That it is time
to swing back up,
and join,
the mainstream,
the suffering ones,

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Building up......his nest ?

In response to a wonderful post about early morning activities at constructon sites in upmarket Mumbai, where the construction staff is almost always from mofussil rural India, outside the state.....trying to earn a living in the face of unrewarding agriculture.....

(Picture (c) Franklin McMohan)

Listening to the bark
of the helmeted one,
His eyes
over the scaffolding
He sees
a field in the wind,
a stationery plough,
a quiet dawn,
presided over by
a giant banyan tree,

And a wisp of a woman,
saree tucked in
a cloth wrapped lunch
"Take this,
your lunch,
I know you'll be late
You have a meeting
with the Rain God..."

And he shudders,
as a firm hand
on his never-give-up
***"Chalo chalo,hurry up,
Aaj slab puri karni hai....."

***"Come on, hurry up, the slab work must get done today"(translation from hindi)

Learning from flowers.....

A comment on this
post about gardens where those colorful ones that delight the eyes, those simple ascetic types that enrich with their perfume, and what the garden has to say about it all....
(Photos courtsey: Kavi)

Those who cannot speak
learn to share
their best;
Riotous brilliant colors,
nodding petal heads
in agreement with
little jasmines,
whispering excitedly
hanging out in groups.
They have no limitations...

But we talking types,
blind seeing types,
fight on
about color,
and shape,
and size, and name.
We are so intelligent,
we never learn.
We are the mistakes.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Confusion technique

Read as a post here . (Commented as below).

Milton Erikson, an American psychiatrist and writer, apparently referring to the "Confusion Technique" used in hypnosis, says , ""Until you are willing to be confused about what you already know, what you know will never become wider, bigger or deeper." .

They throw pebbles
In your pond
of knowledge;
The ripples, spread
and dissipate,
like your confidence,
a wider,
going deeper
in confusion......
No "technique" to it ...........

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Rose Lessons

This was a comment on a poetic post ( "Sleep of the Dying", by Braja of Lost and Found in India)

The Dream,
of a rose,
The petals flutter down,
Resting in the arms
of Mother Earth,
enriching it,
for another day;

What pervades
as it looks behind,
a perfumed chorus
of the remaining petals,
who have learnt,
that to flutter down,
Means you rise up
To learn your lessons,
and again,
another life,
another day.
Not a Sleep of the Dying
But a quiet Praise
of a wonderful Life...

Thinking Rivers.

The Riverness of Life,
post birth,
down the heights,
to a shining sea.
The impish gurgle
dodging rocks,
as it flows and falls;

Then, a long trek
The Predictable Plains.
Flooding emotions,
Drying minds and hearts;

Opening up
to grateful farmlands,
swaying trees,
for effluent thoughts
and trash ideas,
spoiling the innocence
that once was.

And finally,
Loaded with it all,
Meandering slowly ,
Struggling through the
obstacle silt
of the Mind,
carrying all the
Garbage of life,
spreading it thin,
emptying it all,
In the great beyond,
The Oceanic
Mind of God....

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Dangerous Dangles

Commented as below, on this blogpost that describes living dangerously...... Photos courtsey Kavi.

***"Zara sarkoon ghyaa"
creates air space
out of nothing;
This anthem
sung by those, that
gracefully leap
on to someone's shoe,
balanced by one hand
clutching the window bar,
a face in your armpit,
an elbow at your waist,
your nose
smelling parachute oil
glistening on someone's hair;
Blooming at the bus door
they travel,
buying tickets ,
money and change
passing hands,
And as the lumbering bus
takes a sharp turn,
they perform,
as in life,
a sine curve
the uniformed one,
taps his punch, and says
####"Chhutta nahi hai kya ?".....

*** Marathi translation of "Just shift a bit, will you ?" or "Move it! will ya ?"
#### Hindi translation of "Dont you have any change ?"

Friday, July 10, 2009

All about Hope.....

Comment made on this post , (by a blogger , describing the ocean currents etc., after a trip to the Cape of Good Hope, SA). Photos courtsey Vivek Patwardhan.

Its all about Hope,
Good Hope,
that there will be Peace.
Two flowing thoughts,
one hotter than the other,
mixing in peace,
as they dash
against the rocks,
but still together.

This land of gold
and sweat and blood,
The mines shimmer
in the winter dawn,
As the sun
in benevolence,
pours its warmth,
Good Hope
and concern,

On the Proteas,
blooming in welcome
for our friends,
Vivek and Sulabhatai....

Learning from Penguins (Blog Comment)

Comment on this post based on a travelling blogger sighting African Penguins. (Photos courtsey Vivek Patwardhan)

Ebony and Ivory,
Depends from which angle
Your eyes glance,
at the play
amidst the rocks
and the sea....
Creatures of nature,
the call of Mandela,
on the Color of Man.

Ebony and Ivory,
Even the penguins know,
as they nod
at the lazy seal;
They belong together.

A new career with granddaughters.....(Blog comment)

Posted on reading thoughts on twitter ( a perceived inability to walk 4 kms, and a desperate wish to do that on skates) by an about to retire grandfather-blogger who is on a trip to South June 2009.

Seconds are still seconds,
No one comes first
Minutes traipse along,
As you stir your coffee,
Watching the South African veldt...

Thinking of years gone by,
Someone's tears wiped,
Someone's good times
celebrated as though your own,
A rainbow of a career,
Leading some,
teaching some,
Writing the story.

There is no prize for
four kilometres,
on skates,
But there is a prize ,
for someone,
patiently helped
with four sums....
Four dictation words...
Drawing a bunch of flowers,
So she can give you
Your real prize
in a bouquet...

The second Bloggers' lunch

Written on the Occasion of the second Bloggers Lunch, attended by Kavi, Vivek, Sucharita,Harekrishnaji and me....April 2009

Like an E-college with a real life cafetaria,
Once it was Andheri, now meeting in Galleria,

Routine hard work and activities in the house,
Family activities, with parents, children and spouse,

Spare time blogging and commenting on the world,
Your sympathies, your hobbies, and attitudes unfurled,

Some folks just connect on the basis of some words,
Career,kids,politics,food,medicine, even nerds,

So they meet and enjoy cuisines of different sorts,
Talk about bloggers they've met in different blogger ports,

Photos are clicked which maybe your grandkids will see,
"Were these really your blogging friends?", they'll ask me...

Nothing common in age, profession, language, and size,
When we meet, though, there's a twinkle in all the eyes.

Most waiters gape at this weird oldie, motley crowd,
Lunching amidst fashionable folks, all so posh and loud,

But like a college picnic that happens just once in a while,
Memories will be blogged, commented, and sent into a file.....

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Is it or Isn't it Love ? (Blog Comment)

Comment on this post (About whether something is or isnt love) by Braja of Lost and Found in India

Blinded by the color,
Crushing a smiling blade of grass,
refusing to smell the flowers,
Turning up a nose
at the Rose,
She blindly forges ahead...
The fruit, languid on the branch
ahead, beckons,
She takes a leap
Into the lap of a branch,
Heavy with fruit, she leans back,
And the branch crackles,
Thudding back on the ground...
The little boy who carefully
limbered up, watering the grass,
playing with the Rose,
smiling at the squirrel,
Sits on another branch
swinging his legs,
And wonders,
Who is happier ?

Typical "worrying" mother (Blog Comment)

Comment on this post (about her mother worrying about her health, from across the seas) by Braja of Lost and Found in India.

Strength flows
in your DNA,
across continents...
Healing is on,
Worry recedes;
And she wonders
At your weight loss,
Not knowing, that it's
But natural,
it's a BIG weight off your mind....

Missing her father....(Blog Comment)

Comment on this post (On her memories of her father and her missing him) by Braja of Lost and Found in India.

The fragrant blossoms of memory
Enliven the sepia
An indulgent smile,
Some anxiety, for those
he watches over,
her wellbeing
her health,
And as he inhales the
scent of the jasmine garland,
that surrounds him
he envelopes her
in a hug
he smiles at her,
blessing her,
happy that she is well
once again ....

He hasnt gone away; he is still with you.

On her choice of India.....(Blog Comment)

Comment on this post (on her choice of India ), by Braja of Lost and found in India. (Pictures courtsey Braja)

Little Seedlings
sprouting a green,
Fresh babylike, growing up.
Soon a soaring tree,
battling the cloudy skies of the mind,,,
twisting, turning,
The branches lean over,
weighed down
with karma
but sprinkling flowers
All into the neighbor's yard....

And like Satyabhama asks,
"The Prajakta planted in my land,
Why must it bend
and shower its flowers
Orange and white
For the neighbor?"

A lilting melody
And she looks up
to hear Him smile and say
"The fragrance pervades,
Orange warmth
White for peace,
Your Dharma and karma
Its here...."

The Red Sumo (Blog Comment)

Commented as below on this . (Pictures courtesy Kavi)

Big cars,
Mini hearted owners,
Tow trucks invisible
through closed eyeslits,
And so they sight two bipeds
with the largest hearts ever...
Surely not for free,
but for making them pull,
(as they say on the back of trucks),
Sumo wale, tera mooh kala....

Spoilng the Parallels (Blog Comment)

Commented as below on this . (Pictures courtesy Kavi)

A steady, faithful,
dedicated, rise ,
in a symphony with
those around.
A straight and simple life,
hurting none,
Eucalyptus in the air....
Till the noisy bipeds arrive,
To spoil the parallels,
Clutching a trunk,
Plucking a branch,
to the thumping music
of the word.
And the narrow path,
disgusted. tries to shrug
and fails;
due to the weight of Preity Zinta :-)

Unchained learning (Blog Comment)

Commented as below on this (Pictures courtesy Kavi)

The unchained melody
of twisting ignitions,
coughing to life,
lightng up
the faces,
polished toenails
pushing and revving,
to accelerate
as the clutch engages
the attention
of the sisterhood
on scooters....
Not chains,
but hands held,
All together,
In unchained learning
To forge ahead.

Driven by the divine ....(Blog Comment)

Commented as below on this (Pictures courtesy Kavi).

****Its written,
but those in Sigma-6,
obsessed with returns,
brush it aside....

Nishkaam Karma,
The proud fanning
of devotees,
the biceps dazzle
in spiritual strength.....
Day after day,
As the wheel turns,
he quenches
the throats,
parched with hope
and nostalgia,
a scratch of ginger,
few drops of lemon,
And they are ready to face,
Another Day,
with no expectations of any
of their labour....
Their own puja
to the One Up There.....

****in the Bhagwad Gita

Back Home....(Blog Comment)

Commented as below on this

The Sun beckons,
The Stars pull,
Flying high,
Zipping past,
Time scampers ahead
those little signs
that some miss,
Because they watch,
But don't see.

But you respond,
to the call of the Earth,
The joy of the green,
As the water expanse
stretches its arms
to meet with the snaking roads.
You fly
but powered by longing
of a son,
plans of sleeping
in the lap of Nature
feet firmly on the ground.
And she slowly walks in
with a steaming kapi,
eyes wet from something else,
that says,
"Rest your mind, son,
So,You are back !"

An "English" Challenge (Blog Comment)

Commented as below in response to this

He minutely revels,
As the vowels preen
around the consonants,
A smart celebration,
Of a brilliant
but emotionally barren mind...

While the wide eyed
binds your mind ,
with Peenat,Bred,
posing for a
Camera-Caste no bar,
Plats with Dust Pins,
All Here,
not even on hire....

And as the scholar,
fingers the dictionary,
you enjoy,
a gourmet meal,
hospitality reloaded,
regrated finely,
to reach way inside....

Mind Mango Musings

Life is a set of travels through a bunch of squares. Sometimes, again and again, one gets back to square one. But one learns to learn. And if you try hard enough, you get to avoid the snakes to climb up a ladder.....

The Mind Mango
ripening in anticipation
of someone's
golden future;
Wishful foliage,
Green and hopeful,
Blossoms nodding
on an indulgent tree,
Unfolding ,
hopeful of the fruit,
of the effort......

shifty rains hoodwink
your logic,
Dark but willful clouds
Parching the blossoms,
you remain,
a slogging tree
struggling to
push the sap to the leaves
and branches,
and although skeptical
at the roots,
urging the blossoms
"Wait! Dont give up !
These days too shall pass
and life will be ,
Sweet and Golden Yellow,

A dog's life.

Read this. And then this . Then marvel at the availability of Rs 1600 crores (1 crore = 10 million) available for the mollycoddling (The Bandra Worli Sea link) of the automobile lobby. And the pseudo-urgency of erecting statues in the ocean (at a similar cost), in honour of a king , who would have been aghast at the skewed priorities of the Powers-that-be today. When so many other things cry out for help.

Some are dogs,
Some live that life,
Both watched by those,
Drunk on Power...

Some led by chains,
Inhaling, as the ozone
masks the evicted,
undigested, documented
Stiff rules now,
Drop and Pick up,
And the chained ones,
wag their coiffured tails,
and smile,
wondering about
The Powerful,
The Shameless Ones.

Far elsewhere,
chained by the have-nots
but chased by life,
She ventures in the dark
of an eerie dawn,
others alongside,
tumbler in hand,
seeking a place;
Eyes darting,
Seeking relief somewhere,
an airy promenade,
but wild growth,
Fear creeping around,
beside a station wall.

again and again
drunk with power,
They provide for actual dogs,
and ignore
those unfortunate ones,
treated as some...

A frustrated lament

Once a tough minded tree
Reaching for the skies,
Her raised arms,
leave an unprotected trunk
Susceptible to the axe police.

Cuts on the surface,
Thrusts into the psyche,
She tries not to crumble,
Sheathed in a leafy wrap....
As Ill laden clouds,
Threaten the mind,
"You dare not grow
without me,
No standing at ease
Just a life long 'Attention!'...."

And as gardeners, and greeners
watch in despair,
She becomes a Sunflower,
blindly following
a lying sun
in connivance with the clouds,
Eyes wide shut,
The mind as blank
As a sheet covering a sofa,
Constantly wiped creaseless,
destroying reality,
A deafening deadness of mind.....

And the burning sun
Peers from behind
the murderous cloud,
and rejoices,
As one more layer of her mind
and dies.....

A Day in the life of ........

Those potholed roads lie flat in apathy,
As she lumbers across carrying the load,
Of humanity,

Revving up with a sneeze,

A delighted exhaust blast,
She siddles up to a busstop.

Tired faces at windows,

Nose on the bar,

watching the battle to enter,

The right to a Square Foot o
f Steel,
As other feet fight ,
umbrellas as weapons,
Dripping the pollution of the skies.

Some polite moves,
Some leching eyes,

Body contracting to one side,

She clutches her purse,
and the child holding on
to schoolbooks,
Wet behind the ears,

Shoes stepping on
her sandaled feet,
The toe ring hurts.

And the brown uniform,

taps his punch on the seat rod,

Calls out , and beckons....
"Sir, cant you see,

This is a ladies seat,
Ma'am, come forward..."
And she puts the child ahead,

squeezes against briefcases,
and limbs

Clutching her purse
Getting ahead.

A sudden pothole,

A surprise jerk,
They fall backwards,

They've lost their place,
but fall unhurt,

tumbling over a base,

Cushioned by the humanity
of Mumbai,
Packing the monsoon buses.

They dust themselves,
tucking in dishevelled thoughts,

Collect their bags

and Thoughts,
Clutching the rods once again

Ruffling the hair of a child,
Who stands again with his mother,
Facing another schoolday,
Another bus,
Another crowd,
Another rain....

The same life...........

Climbing minds

It stands
Erect at the peak
supreme in its simplicity,
Holding out its arms
in welcome
A refuge from a troubled world,
A troubled mind.

The paths are many,
Through dappled meadows,
Arched palms,
And dark woods.
But the two climbers,
see different things,
In the evening gloom.

He, of the mind full-of-worms,
Striding across creeping plants,
Snapping branches like
One day he would his mind,
Hitting his stick on the stones
pretending it was her,
Ensuring that she would get lost,
And he rushed ahead,
Missing the path to the peak

She could barely stand,
Trembling with more than fear,
She dissolved onto the floor,
And tapped around for support;
A small clearing with trembling hands,
shows a covered step,
So a bit closer to the top,
Somewhere, a lopsided smile,
The trees are charmed,
The branches bend to escort
As she struggles across the
clearing steps,
A short breath,
she spies a bud

Face up to the sun,
waiting for a new day,
On its own.

The slow trudge to he top,
Limbs tired , so too the mind,
But the mixups in the brain
have cleared, like the air
after the first monsoon rain.....

Nature has its own court,
For offenders of the mind,
They are lost in the woods
Worms all over their mind,
Parasite is as parasite does.

Excruciatingly tired,
She sighs as the house nears,
A door swings open,
Friendly faces at the window,
beckoning her to a new life,
Where a troubled mind
Is patted asleep,
Comfortably fed,
And she nods off,
To wake up to a new day,
Amidst her new friends
The mind in smiles.....

For a brave lady........

Resplendent in her prime,
Green in anticipation,
Swaying the silk in her leaves,
The breeze turns her head,
Branches twist in agony,
Painful dangerous bends that
leave some memory on the soil

Time and again she tries
to feel full and green,
The storm subsides
leaving the hurt;
Rainswept fertile minds
and grasses,
under the weird gaze of the cloud

The cloud she thought her own,
in its blackness
Darkens an already fearful mind,
Diseased spots of doubt.
What if the leaves just fall,
And leave a rigid trunk,
A dry leafless life,
Stems withering in the sun
Tremors of Agony...

The rain comes blowing in,
clearing the cobwebs of her mind,
Washing the leaves clear,
As tears drip down the trunk....
To embed below;

The cloud smirks, it has lost
the trust and love of the greens;
Slapped by an angry wind,
it rushes beyond the hills,
Leaving a tired but hopeful tree,
tickled by the nudging blades of grass,
growing up,
holding out a hand,
to say, we'll face it together.....

Someone's "Stepping out".....

A little shrub, facing up,
All alone, amidst the seasons,
They came and went, and then
One day it took root
Reaching up to the sky
Gurgling in its growth ....

The sky is closer,
The sun is a friend,
The moon winks in confidence,
As the arms turn to branches,
Laden with growth,
Green and blooming....

A thing of beauty,

Some say, and it smiles,
Happy in its greenness,
Held close by the brown trunk;
Narrow waisted,

flowering into a canopy of Comfort....

The time for fruiting is near,
The wind and clouds hold hands,
As the rains drizzle in agreement,
There is growth once again,
A coming out into the world,
Reaching out to the sky,
Basking in the Sun...
And the warmth in life....

(Written for someone, just coming into her own. I wrote the poem first and actually found the graphic later. Looks like it was meant to be....a girl-tree reaching out to the world......)