Pagli

(On seeing sanyasins on the banks of the Ganges)


Oh! I am a widow no more
No longer do I wear the white
No longer is my forehead
Bereft of the vermillion
No longer am I weak
No longer am I meek
I am a pagli
Carefree, not careless
The world is at my feet
And so are its rules and bonding
I am a free soul
The ugly body I have is a veil
Of the beauty that I have within
I was a widow
I was married to a man
Now I am not
I am married to my Lord.

Adressee Not Found

The postman comes after many days
And hands me a letter
With an address written in my hand and I can see
Long back I had written a letter to myself
On an address where I never lived
And they took it so long to bring it back
Well it was there anyway, after all
Back to its sender who unknown to them
Was the addressee too.
And I could see the stamps of failed attempts of delivery
And a final stamp of “Addressee Not Found”
The letter unfolds and asks me a question:
“Have you found yourself?”

Walking Along the Pavement

Life, obscured by its prominence
Exhibits its brightness in varied shades
That paint in hues of pain and pleasure
And sighs and smiles on a vast colourless canvass
Where multitudes of men
Move on a rested frame that slides
Ahead in terms of present
Pouring into past and pacing into future
Full of dreams.
And I walk along a pavement
By the side of the running track
Where haste races past in an aimless attempt
To outrun present
Yet time takes its own steps
Synchronized to the beats of a heart…..
The honks of the screeching cars
Lends this procession just some din.