What is good enough and is it enough?

” You’re restless again …we have spent this summer afternoon , idly letting our thoughts wash and break over us like the surge of a tranquil sea on sun drenched beaches …neither the heat nor the glare intimidating …but these questions like the pebbles and shells ….intriguing , grazing our feet and lazily demanding answers …..so poetry is expression , you say … Is it ? I’m mildly amused …..so is a bus ticket …an expression of your intention to get from point A to point B.

Of course, you laugh indulgently …..it’s you .
No ? You counter playfully …
Must it be ostentatious and profound and hard to understand? You mock me and duck as I flip a beer bottle cap at your laughing countenance. 
Should I answer that, I wonder. I have learnt that the flippant tone masks the quest for Beauty you eternally seek….and so it is with poetry….
Complexity of thought, precision of words …..the sacred geometry of line and image ….the artfulness of arrangement …..the multiplicity of tone . All proffered hesitantly and delicately, like a lover with a palmful of Jasmines …fragile …yet persistent. Not for everyone …relatable ,oh no .but for the one who seeks.

You nod , as you play with the tassels of my pallu ….you agree ?”

Shobana Mathews
RTS literature Curator 

आँखों की कैद में


आँखों की कैद में,

रहने दो अब मुझे•••••
कभी नूर बन के,
कभी मोतियों के जैसे
तिरने दो अब मुझे••••!

यूँ इस तरह
रुला के,
न रिहा करो मुझे,
आँखों की कैद मे ही,
रहने दो मुझे•••••••!!

Picture by Kat J (Unsplash)

My love


Fingerprint stains

Stagnate
On my frosted window pane.
Regret lines the corners of time –
Icicles, sleeplessness,
Nakedness;
Bleakness from out drains in;
Sight dissolves;
And the darkness from
Distance crawls within.

My love owned a summer white dress,
Tinged from years of closeness.
Tobacco and champagne,
A color that fades in and out
Like English heat
On fields and riversides,
Blurring as if movement
Laid flat,
Pressed.

Ash-flavored dew drops,
Footsteps, clock watch,
Warm nights,
Delayed trains
Hot as coming home.
Brushing in wild bluebells
Or the noise and drying
In the door,
Ajar,
Like the roses you
Bought for me many times.
A scent of polish and love
Or the other way ‘round.

Stereos weep
At love’s lost kiss.
Waves
washing up
Like seashells
You picked that day.
With hands caressing as the breeze.
Twists and curves
Turn in the sink
Submissive.
Middle of stories
Opened
As sand grains collect
In the cracked porcelain.
Brittle ingredients
Drumming in and outs
On the metal drainer
Shiny as the downpour it echoes.
Sharp pine, soft
Stain,
The windowsill in sustain
Like tears
As you and the other girl
Harmonize.

Picture by Samantha Gades (Unsplash)

खेल


खेलो खेल खेलो
मजे ले ले के खेलो 
खेलो खेल खेलो।

फुट बाल खेला?
या टेनिस,या फिर हॉकी,
या क्रिकेट?

थक जाओ तो
आराम कर लो ,पानी पी लो,
नहीं?थके नहीं?
ये कौन सा खेल है?
जिसमे थकते नहीं,
रुकते नहीं?

हम लोगों से खेलते हैं ,
उनकी भावनाओं से,
आदत है खेलने की ,
थकते नहीं,रुकते नहीं ।
इधर से सुना उधर दे डाला,
मजे लेने के लिए मसाला लगाया।
कई दिन कुछ ना सुना तो अपना पकाया
मसाला कम था तो तड़का भी लगाया।

नहीं नहीं ऐसा खेल ना खेलो
रुक जाओ थोड़ी सांस
तो ले लो ,
ना सुनो ,ना सुनाओ ,
अपने को ही नहीं ,
दूसरों को भी बचाओ,
अदात बुरी है ,
जल्दी बाहर निकल आओ।

यह जो कर रहे हो कब तक कर पाओगे?
कभी तो कर्मों के चक्र में फंस ही जाओगे ,
कभी शायद पकड़े भी जाओगे,
कहां जा के अपना मुंह छुपाओगे,
फिर शायद बहुत पछताओगे।

मेरी मानो खेल खेलो,
सिर्फ खेल खेलो,
लोगों से नहीं ,चीज़ों से खेलो,
फुटबाल ना सही क्रिकेट खेलो,
ना दौड़ा जाए तो लूडो खेलो,

सही में खेल खेलो,सबकी वाह वाही लेलो,
खेलो खेल खेलो
मजे ले ले के खेलो।

Picture by Aaron Burden (Unsplash)

Fire is Fire


Fire is fire,
So let’s say we burn this down;
Light the match and watch it turn to ash.
You and I were too much,
Clashed and raged;
Each trying to water the others ember,
Hoping, in spite, that their flame would flicker and die.
What does that make us?
Perhaps our fires were too strong because we used them as weapons;
Perhaps, our compatibility went up in smoke the minute we ignited;
Or maybe, just maybe we never got the right kick,
The wind blew us out too soon,
Our kindling damp,
I can’t say anymore.
But fire is fire,
So let’s burn darling,
And hope we can rise from the ashes we create.

Picture by Paul Bulai (Unsplash)

Why do you try and save him?


Why do you try to save him?
Change him when he can’t.
Like a butterfly
Fluttering in a storm,
You wish to capture and cradle,
But, the storm has claimed him.
There’s nothing you can do to protect him,
He chose this path,
And he can’t see it through if he’s blinded by your hands
In front of his eyes.
You’ll try, God you’ll try to fight it,
Knowing that you can be his sanctuary;
Knowing only you can be the love he needs to be saved,
But that’s not how this works,
Because that’s never the way love is supposed to work
Love has to be able to grow without you pushing it down,
Without you clawing and scrapping until it bleeds openly.
So let him fly into the storm,
And pray your love is what keeps him from being crushed.

Picture by Daria Rudyk (Unsplash)