February

The wail of the withering trees in 

The autumn, can't be left unseen.

And the prison of the thick clothes

On flesh is not so redeeming.

So the spring has set her sails in 

The far reaches of the sea.

Beseeching in front of the autumn

It has decided to summon the greens.

The last leaf in the bareness of

The skeletal almond tree smiles 

A goodbye to the budding new leaf-

As the first human strips open her 

Smothered body to the warm intimacy 

Of the month of February.

Overthought Things

There is something about
Giving meaning to things.
Chasing rains to feel the grit
Of water between fingers.

The texture of air on the skin as it
Passes in the evening and
The threads of mellow sunshine
On the face in winter mornings.

Painting those mountains in the flesh
And taking up a long trek to
Hug them for just being there with
Their gigantic elegance.

Imagining the slow flow of
A river as our own thump of blood
And assuring it a safe journey
Back home.

Autumn's assault had just ended
And the spring had regained
Access to the lush greens.
The clouds rose in heaps to

Look themselves up in
The mirroring lake.
Thinking the earth is finally
Ready for a date.

Then it rained as if
The love language of nature
Lay in the inevitability of
Rain.

Dharwad Rain

It was too much heat and
It became cloudy.
Suddenly there was lightning,
Thunderstorm and rain.

It rained over and across
The roads of Jubilee circle
On the metal head of
The Ambedkar statue.

The tin roofs of the Chigri bus,
Got the hammering from
The silver nails too.
Sending rhythmic tones

To whoever sat within it.
It rained on the dusty old scooter
Unveiling its name to the world
"Bajaj Chetak"- like it was a fossil.

The kids in the white shirt and
Blue shorts ran around to collect
The ice cubes of the hail.
It rained on their tiny heads.

Over the tripling college boys
On their Splendor Plus and
Over the empty Kingfisher bottles
To mock the chill out of the beer.

It rained on hospital signboards
That said 'do not honk.'
It rained over a punctured tyre
That just wanted to burn in fire.

Over the pigeons and the crows
And the maize feed that they
Wanted to eat- that's how
Their hot meal turned cold.

It wanted to rain on Elliot's
Wastelands too and Silvia's
Pig tree before it could even
Branch out more.

Even on Bukowski's whores
And wine and on that
Frost's road not taken and its
Fresh grass; till one could-

No longer tell the difference
From the other one.
But it strictly wanted to be local,
For some reason.

So it let Karim Mulla's grave
Drench and Chakkadi Balya's
Thirst quench.
By the smell of Mirchi Girmit
It let the crowd elate.

And one of those tractors
To pass playing a Janapad song
On full blast- It let itself
Loosen up a bit to have-

A little fun for a while and
Dance in Tappanguchi style.



Mirchi Girmit- local food prepared from puffed rice
Janapad song- Songs in local slang often played in tractors

Tappanguchi- local free style dance

Symphony

In the good old backyard
Of mine in the village.
Nothing is in order.

Things lying around,
In their own emptiness,
Try to ooze life somehow.

The swish of wind,
Clips on the cloth line dangle.
To which the yellow
Marigolds rhyme in sync.

Crows caw from the
Eucalyptus.
Torn saree stuck in
The fence flutter and
The the periwinkles
Dance in style.

A broken chair and
Handicapped cot observe
This from where they sit.

The water pipe unevenly folded
Lies around with the broom
Like they're on a blind date,
To this concert.

Then there's a wooden log,
Paint-can, coconut husk and
A gunny bag full of trash.

A big water tank,
Then the water cans
And buckets.
Joining in as a family.

Washing brush, surf,
A dishwasher and a small
Stool on the marble slab.
The coterie glancing around
Enjoying the dusky sky.

In a shocking sort of awe
A hornbill comes hooting to
Relax in the crown of
The tamarind tree.

And like hell, the broken
Bicycle in the corner must be
Wishing for a bit more life to
Enjoy this evening's..

Symphony.

Dissolve

Out here, upon this hillock.

As the tiny lavenders ruffle,

To the brush of my palms.

Little grasshoppers run

Awry and birds flutter their

Wings in a hurry.

Across the horizon, the clouds,

As they gather and bring

Upon the blessings of rain.

It occurs to me..

Right here. Right now. 

How I could just melt away,

Dissolve in the rain, and

Run down the muddy stream,

Flow through the city,

Join a river and then the sea.

Swim along the coastal shelf,

Mock them little fishes and

Freeze off to the dread of sharks.

It occurs to me, how beauty

And feeble gestures of nature,

Fills these hollow spaces in us..

Soften our edges to make us

Aware of our own existence,

Individuality and imagination.

Listen

Listen to the breeze

As it passes by.

The rustle of the leaves,

The calm it assures.

Listen to the thoughts

It invokes, as it

Touches your insides.

..

Listen to the river

As it cuts through rocks.

The pebbles it 

Brushes past.

The persistence it

Inspires.

Listen to the tones

It brings you back,

As it flows soaking

Your heart.

..

Listen to the snow

As it settles on the soil.

The white that covers,

The cold that spreads.

Listen to the fire 

It can light. 

In the corner of

Your mind.

The summer that's

Still alive.

. 

Show Stealer

Scorched, 

Earth is bothered. 

Looks up in

Thirsty rhymes.

Clouds have 

Conquered the sky.

The sunshine

Has been smothered.

Sun puts up a 

Worthy fight.

Lightening, 

A thunderbolt strikes.

Raidrops like 

Small nails,

Gush down with rage.

Cut and pierce, 

Yet, they douse 

The unquench.

Fresh light is out, 

The clouds are

Done with.

Sun has regained

The sky.

With green sheen,

Earth is poised

With a fresh gleam.

Ready again!

For her affair

With the moon. 

On a stage set by

Clouds.

Sun put up his act.

But the moon 

Stole the show. 

Grace of Rain

Is this the warmth
After freezing cold or
The calm after
The scorching heat?
It's serene.

It's the rains.

An escaped grace
From among the
Curses of the
Wrecked sailors
And the prayers of
The poor farmers.

Infinite Love

Mountains are
The love letters,
Written by the ocean
To the sky.

Rain is a reply
From the sky.

And that's how the
Highs and the vast depths,
Make it possible to create
Something infinite....

Something infinite....
Like LIFE.

Spread Laughter by Laughing...

The wind blows,
To gather the fleeting clouds.
All together they laugh.
Rain is their laughter.

It rains and seeds sprout,
a plant grows,
in spring the flowers bloom.
Plants laugh as flowers.

On a blossoming tree,
birds come to rest,
enjoying that beauty they sing.
The laughter comes out as a song.

Again,
The song dissolves in wind.
A cool breeze blows,
rest lives enjoy the breeze.
And the wind laughs by spreading laughter.