Silicon Valley

in the valley of heart’s delight,
quality of life on the demise,
homelessness on the rise,
we keep shut our eyes,
as if everything is working fine,
we go on with our lives.
blessed by nature in abundance,
we take everything for granted.
reward success with stock options,
and measure success in terms of
square feet of our homes,
and latest models of cars in the driveways.
we discuss about vacation homes while many go without,
consumption is king for the haves,
for the have nots street is one pay check away.
as we go merrily through our day,
the heart, from the valley of heart’s delight
crumbles and turns to dust.
alas, in time the silicon also will slip away.

Moonbeams’ walk

Wrote this poem today morning and then translated to my mother tongue Assamese (Axomiya). Posting them in the same sequence here.

Have you seen
the moonbeams walk?
sometimes they
light your paths,
sometimes they
cast shadows,
sometimes they fill
your heart with joy,
sometimes they make
it bleed raw,
sometimes they get lost
in the glitter of city lights.
but when the moonbeams
walk into your heart,
keep it safe,
because on the darkest night
of your life,
you will need the moonbeams
to navigate,
and light your path
with fireflies.

জোনাকৰ খোজ

দেখিছানে কেতিয়াবা
জোনাকে তোমাৰ লগত
কৰা বিচৰণ?
কেতিয়াবা আলোকিত
কৰি তোমাৰ পথ,
কেতিয়াবা ছাঁয়াৰ বোলেৰে
আকে পট,
কেতিয়াবা আনন্দৰে
উজলাই হিয়া,
কেতিয়াবা হৃদয় কৰে
বিষাদে ভৰা,
আৰু কেতিয়াবা জোনাক
হেৰাই যায় চহৰৰ
ৰঙচঙীয়া সন্ধিয়াত।
কিন্তু কেতিয়াবা জোনাক
যদি সোমাই তোমাৰ অন্তৰত,
সাঁচি থবা আলফুলকৈ,
জীৱনৰ ঘনঘোৰ
অন্ধকাৰ দিনটোত,
উজলাব তোমাৰ পথ,
জোনাকী পৰুৱা হৈ।

Time Not A Healer: A set of Haiku

Gently flows the creek

Time flies like arrow forward

Lonely lover waits

*****

Meandering trail

Rushing creek sings lullabies

Jilted lover cried

******

Summer heat rises

Languorous mid-day slumbers

Wounded heart drips slow

******

Creek just a trickle

Time marches on relentless

Bleeding heart searches

******

Dry creek lost it’s way

Cruel time not a healer

Lover’s broken heart

Wild Jasmine : A Ghazal

Couple of days back I posted a poem in Assamese (Axomiya) in my Facebook timeline ” খৰিকাজাইঃ এটি অসমীয়া গজল” with a brief forward. My daughter tried to do a Facebook translation of the piece and the result, to say the least, was hilarious. Suffice is to say that if it was permissible to sue for loss in translation, then it would have been OK to do that for murdering the language. It is our fault that though my kids understand Assamese and can speak, at least the oldest and the youngest,they can’t write or read the language. So it is for their benefit that I translated the piece along with the brief forward.

I like to listen to ghazals. To tell the truth, as I don’t understand many Urdu words, sometimes I miss out in understanding the real meaning of many ghazals. I still listen. Whether correct or not, I do hum the tunes in the bathroom. Sometimes while working in the kitchen, I do whistle over the ridicules of my better half. As per her, there is no one in the world who is a worse off-tune singer than me. Oh well, I am not aspiring to be a Jagjit Singh*. Anyway, till about four years ago this was my only relationship with ghazal. About four years ago, on my blog I read an English ghazal written by my fellow blogger, Jane Dougherty( Jane Dougherty Writes ) whose blog I follow. I had no inkling that ghazals were also written in English. In short, it was through Jane that I made my entry to the world of writing ghazals. I first started writing in English and then translating to Assamese and now I write sometimes in both language. I do not have any formal training in writing ghazals and so traditionalists may say that my writings are not ghazals at all. Well, I have not stopped humming even though my better half insists that I sing off tune, so why stop writing even if someone says it is not traditional. I am not dreaming about becoming a Ghalib.
The original Assamese ghazal was written a couple of days back.

Wild Jasmine : A Ghazal

Opened the window, wafted in with the breeze your fragrance,
Memories of a rosebud of spring bygone with your fragrance.

Remember the parched earth caressed by the first rain, that subtle sweet fragrance,
Scented wild jasmines bathed by the rain smelled of your fragrance.

Wind is blowing strong scattering the books on the table all around,
Shrivelled petals of wild jasmine inside the open pages, I smell your fragrance.

Closed the book gently, lest the jasmine blew away
Futile attempt, heart filled with jasmines saturated with your fragrance.

I shut the window or the storm may cleanse my heart,
How shall I live a lonely life if wild jasmines lose your fragrance?

You are long gone, address unknown, do not know where you are now,
Poet’s heart is empty and like a madman searching in jasmines your fragrance.

July 24, 2020
San Jose, CA


*Jagjit Singh, the “King of Ghazals” was an Indian ghazal singer who passed away in 2011

Naked

Slowly rising steam from the cups of
steaming coffee
camouflaged your apparition.
As your lilting voice spun
mystical stories,
My mind slowly disrobed you,


exploring all the nooks and crannies,
tracing every curve, rise and fall,
undulating hills and the flat valleys.

Try as I might to turn my eyes,
I could not avert the magic of your eyes,
and sat transfixed.
As Dr. Jekyll, my conscious mind, constantly chastised
Mr. Hyde, my sub-conscious,
I struggled to keep my focus.
Ashamed of myself, as the lascivious
voyeurism of unbridled libido
drove my mind to uncharted territories.

The warm sands of the beach
spreading the heat to our naked bodies, and
as we lie side by side,
I bared my mind to you,
and was mortified to see the hurt
on those turquoise eyes of your.
As you gently took my hand
and looked me in the eyes,
and put my hand on your bosom,
I could only see the unfathomable deapth
of the ocean to drown my lust,
and I died a little.

We walked hand in hand and entered the sea,
the water around us evaporated from
our body heat.
Lying there on the sands ,
with the canopy of star studded sky
as the roof, sea breeze encircling us, and
darkness of the night clothing us,
we slept on each other’s arms,
with the waves singing lullabies,
gently caressing our feet,
till dawn’s golden lights bathed our nakedness.

The steam no more rising from the
stone cold cups of coffee,
no apparition floated in the mist,
and then I saw the unfinished question
in your eyes.

Now that I bared my heart to you
in all its stark nakedness,
I can sincerely say,
I can not promise the earth and the moon,
neither can I promise a future unknown,
only this I can say with all honesty,
to give my everything, me,
flawed but with heart burnt by fire of hell
and turned to pure gold,
ready to take your hand and
walk to the edge of eternity and beyond
by your side ,
and ask nothing in return,
for this is not a deal.
And if that is not love, then I know not
what love is .

As you got up to take leave,
with a twinkling in your eyes
and smiled,
I could see the hint of a promise,
for which I can wait,
what’s a life time when eternity waits.

Then the apparition was gone.
As I took a sip of the cold coffee,
a divine warmth radiated through me.
I bared my soul and I feel
naked no more.

The Key to Memories – set of haiku

once adolescent 

romantic exuberance

ah, spring in the air

*****

words overflow, joy

love, pure and unbound, to share

luxuries of youth

*****

chest of memories

keys thrown, lost, bleeding heart weeps

passion takes roots, waits

*****

summer follows spring

harsh life, a dormant passion

hardy roots grow strong

*****

superfluous keys

memories of youth bygone

the tree grows stronger

 

Thy name is compromise

When a whole life was spent

Clipping the wings of heart’s desire

And mind locked in a vault

Guarded by the lost key

Of pursuit of happiness

A search futile

Ignorant of what’s being searched for

The little morsels spread to entice

Does not make the heart flutter

For a promise of bliss

Embraced a fleeting moment of peace

Price that I pay

In perpetual silence

Misery, thy name is compromise

A barren desert does not bloom

My mind seeks solace

In places I dare not tread

A wall of vain emotion

It can not penetrate

Silent is the suffering, the

Melancholy of solitude

As bleeding heart weeps

Nonchalantly go you

And I wonder when

Destination remained same

But the paths diversed

Small peebles became roadbumps

Perched earth hunker

For some soothing shade

Alas, an elusive rain cloud

Passing by

A barren desert

Does not bloom

Love is not blind

Those who profess by

Love at first sight,

Are also the ones

Brainwashed by the notion

Love is blind.

Like a fine wine

Mellowed by age,

A taste enhanced,

And value soared,

Love that has withstood

The test of time,

Seen the ebb and flow

Of life,

Good times and the bad,

That’s the love

That thrives.

The wrinkles of time,

Unkind to the beautySkin deep,

Dims the sights,

Enhancing the glow

That burns steadily

Deep down in the heart,

Whispers,

Love is not blind,

Love is not blind.

Wasted

Somewhere between aspiration and expectation,

The river of life got dammed.

The stale water is pungent now,

Ripe to be fished by the powerful

To fulfill their ulterior motivation.

A bud that did not flower, never came to fruition,

Lost forever to humanity, a malodorous fragrance, putrid,

Wasted blood caked dry by the blazing sun.

As the hypocrites  responsible for the mayhem rejoice,

Shouting to the high heavens for the glory of the martyred,

Somewhere a lonely heart weeps for the wasted soul.