Life and Death

Sunset,
Crimson is the sky,
Twilight creeps,
Dusk crawls across,
Darkness.

Death,
Is it so,
As life ebbs,
Will darkness crawl?
Oblivion.

Dawn,
Fingers of light shoot,
Gently rises the sun,
Dawn rushes in,
Blazing.

Soul,
Free of the body,
Floats free,
Unknown beckons,
Peace?

Day,
A new beginning,
Chaos reigns supreme,
Busy for what?
Clueless.

Life,
A series of steps,
Mundane and exhilarating,
Exhausted, long wait,
Ends.

Questions Futile

Life is like a flowing river;
Are you life, I asked the river;
The river did not stop
To answer,
It just kept flowing;
My dejected sigh
Failed to ruffle the surface
Of the stagnated pool,
Tadpoles scurrying merrily;
Retorted the frog,
On your way, move;
The crest of the wave
Caught the sunlight,
Twinkled;
Got your answer, it said,
And was gone;
The flowing river marched on,
Carrying the caricature of
My broken reflection,
To a place unknown.

and my futile question remained unanswered.

Fantasy

what is life,
if not colored by a little fantasy?
I shall rather fly away
on the wings of my imagination,
than wither slowly by
dripping sands of time.
is there anything more painful,
than dying by grinding of the mundane?
let them ridicule me,
for my feet not being grounded;
will the bean counters ever comprehend,
ecstasy of riding the winged horses,
and flying away?

The Hourglass

The most profound ideas of the day come to mind in the toilet because they are worthy of being flushed out of the system at the earliest.

Why does the sands of time
drips so slowly, and then
the hourglass turns?
Why can’t time remain at
standstill as we mourn
the scores that departed
to the unknown shores?
do you hear the blood curdling
howls of the hyenas circling,
to rip the coffins before
the bodies are cold?
the vampires do not dread
the light anymore,
ready to suck the blood
as life goes out.
as we mourn, somewhere else
a life mortgaged to luxuries
while living, slowly ebbs,
and street dogs stand in
guard of honour
for the one who has no home.
the sands of time drips ever so slowly,
and the hourglass turns,
as we mourn.


featured image from pixabay

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।

Phone call at night

Every phone call that comes at night,

fills my heart with fright,

who is next, who is next,

this is what life has become,

with sadness, I wait for my flight,

till then life goes on,

I keep rowing my boat,

every morning I get up,

I send a thank you note,

and try to stay upright,

every night I go to bed,

I say, if this be my last,

let me dream, let me dream,

so that when I go,

the journey be funny and bright.

Uninvited guest

Update:

Edwin Alvarez was the kid I wrote about in my poem below today.  Please read the request below from his friends trying to arrange for his funeral.

“Hey guys. I believe everyone is aware already that on Friday night there was a boating accident after which our friend Edwin unfortunately passed away. I don’t know however, if everyone is aware that he comes from a very humble family and I don’t know up to what point they relied on Edwin’s income. As far as I know, he was paying for his brother’s education, bootstrapping a business with his dad who works in construction and looking for ways to also help his mother, who is a maid, to find an alternate source of income.
Needless to say this is a life-altering situation that is going to be incredibly difficult for his family to overcome. Eduardo (one of Edwin’s friends who helped us contact his family), started a GoFundMe to help them out with the funeral expenses. Any help will surely be greatly appreciated. Here’s the link https://gf.me/u/ykvm62 . He also mentioned that Oscar (Edwin’s brother) is already aware of this effort.”

I write about current events, my poems are fiction, penned during my flights of imagination. The poem below is based on a tragedy that happened two nights ago.  A young soul was called back too soon by the Lord.  He was my son’s friend.  I never met him but heard about him from my son. A hard working, honest, fun loving friendly guy.  These are the times one questions, why? Why?  I guess there is no answer.

a day in a life of hope

started with fun and frolic,

a boat ride down the river,

azure summer sky pierced

with laughter and singing.

sun moved slowly

to the western sky, Continue reading “Uninvited guest”

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

I soar to an unknown beyond

far above the clouds

gingerly I tread

my eyes on the rising sun

I soar

riding the sun rays

to an unknown beyond

freed from the bondings

holding me to the earth

I soar

a path unknown

but a journey beautiful

can only imagine

the adventure and

excitement that lies beyond

let me ride the

waves of your love

and for you

leaving behind the

story of my life

I soar

to an unknown beyond