Category Archives: Epitaph

To be with you

a poem by

The lonely strolls
we walked for miles
I had it all
in her smiles

The cozy nights
she gave warmth
the games we played
we played it long

This game of death she played it alone
I’m stranded here left to mourn

I would make her talk
and I would melt like snow
I would have her sing
and feel the honey flow

The fields of flowers
that shone with glow
are barren now
no hand to sow

I wanna start all anew
I wanna just be with you
I wanna make it all to you
I’m coming up to be with you

These things I see
in my dreams
They tear me apart
and make me weak

The cruel fate
that took her away
can it help me now
to do the same.

This game of death she played it alone
I’m stranded here left to mourn

I wanna start all anew
I wanna be just with you
I wanna make it all to you
I’m coming up to be with you
I wanna show my love to you
I wanna make love to you
I wanna give it all to you
I’m coming up to be with you…

My Father where are you?

a poem by

Till yesterday, I felt blessed by the weight of a hand
on my head, which was so reassuring.
Suddenly, I feel that gone, taking along the might,
which firmly on ground, allowed me a secure footing,

Father! I never felt there was more than gravity,
and only scientific principles were intriguing;
God! I now feel bizarre, as if popped up in air,
while any tiny stoke of air can now put me into despair,
by wriggling me here and there, when you aren’t here!
with no ancestral base left, whose glare none could dare,
I therefore scare to move, away from your abode dear!

My Father, I never realized, your hand was so strong,
physically, for the match of your otherwise thin bearing,
Mere thought of your departure lets me feel flogged,
No my father, you can’t leave me alone weeping!

My Father! My eyes aren’t seeing any longer,
Please come back, be here and let you be seen.
Infact, did I never realize, you always braved
to make that intense flash of light on me opaque,
which has now mercilessly left me mauve,
duly blinded me, and as if beaten dumbfounded,

My Father, I feel my soul having been punched
as you moved on, vacating your throne,
Please reappear, And plug this “Hollow”,
Which you created by withdrawing your Halo,
The gaps are unlikely to be plugged you sure know.

Father! Though no major tear, of a pain of being torn
assorted collage of feelings your parting devoured,
yet with all gay colours gone, I now feel depleted!
ravening of the fabric in me, you voided dourly ago.

While I feel very bare, deprived and incomplete,
Father my life is all-insipid now, leaving no ego!
I bow to God’s systems though, yet this defeat?
Why do they fail me in you and my child’s ergo!

Without you my father, How can I sail solo?
Don’t leave me alone, Father, please don’t go.

Reflections

a poem by

In the city where each house
Writes on its walls
Myth-shattering biographies
Of unknown Joan of Arcs,
There in the Chastity-Zones,
Of moral-company houses,
The silence of the devilish nights
Is destroyed by the whimper
Of deflowered virgins!

Violence Committed Suicide

a poem by

Violence vandalised with rhythmic war dance
Gleeful of its horrendous attacks malicious killings
Non-stop destruction without interruption massive innings.
Vigour, soon a spent up force as booby trap explodes:
Chaos, stench of blood and death.
Exhaustion, forced into silence,
Tired drowsiness.
We witness suicide
The fallen body of violence.
Swing
Peace into action
Valediction, obsequies
Storing cremated ashes
In an obsidian urn.
Immortal is peace.

My knocked out Love

a poem by

I deeply adored you! Much From the core of my heart,
But that never made an ado for you to crack, sweet-heart.
Though valentine’ous threats had’me greeting with bloody spears.
Yet continued I, to love you, with no fears and nil peers.

However to breach that gap, my desire pre-empted farther,
To propose straight to you: to let me drown into you deeper,
Through your ravenous eyes, which, say, scared each intruder,
Including me, until I was overwhelmed by your beauteous slumber.

Like being hypnotized, allowed I myself to flow into your eyes,
Duly conforming to the Vortex of your desires and disguise,
Well, as you were set just to absorb me drown into you deeper,
Your devilous acts scorned you to close your eyes without fear?

Love knows no bounds, I knew now, having drained enough Sweat.
Unordained, your porcupinous thorns had that anaesthetic effects.
over my flow of emotions, which fell short of prefect,
Well that was a short end of making my love story blatant.

The guardians of Styx and other stories

a poem by

They said don’t stand
And use up the night
We have a plan
Ages of blood and wine
The family of man
Never had a thought in its life.

Understand
I didn’t really want the fight
Simple math
Two plus two is five
Every man
Determines his price.

The song was sad
But the words were still all mine
The meat was bland
But the cost was just right
They saw the ageing man
But he was much too young to die.

Now we’re glad
He’s lost the second sight
But watch that hand
Still moves at the speed of light
His smile is back
Dr. Jekyll meet Mr. Hyde.

I went mad
They said toe the line divine,
The cage was slammed
Cause the beast had crossed the line
He looked deadpan
But see the fire in his eyes.

Trying to Forget

a poem by

Caressing the wind blows,
so very slowly, softly, sighing,
A vast eternity
engulfs me, scattering,
While you lie there,
so quiet,
dear,
Having almost perfected the art of
dying.
Gusts of adrenaline seize me,
Surging unconsciously, tumultuous,
momentary,
Freedom lost, now regained;
Quirk of Fate,
Till I realize the loss, beloved
filling me with uncharted fear.
Sweet moments,smiles and a tear
Passions shared jealously
the soft parjataka,tender care
the fading fragrance of bliss bygone
accompany me only halfway through
my Karma.
The lone gulmohur bent,
A silent epitaph to
your remembrance pure
A chaotic voice
instilling
the loneliness deep
within me.

The Brick Wall

a poem by

At the end of the road lies a small brick wall.
Beyond which lies a land dark and desolate
No one who has ever gone there
Has come back to tell the tale
For its a land where people go
Never to return again for life
My heart beats as I approach the wall
In the lengthening shadows of twilight
I have had a long journey, and now
I need to rest, but the land beyond frightens
Not a sound nor a whisper escapes from ere
Only the dark mists rise like ghostly phantoms
As the evening shadows lengthen, their arms
Outstretched trying to catch me like ghosts
I must hurry for the land beckons me
To cross the red brick wall
And sleep forever in life, never to come back again.

Adieu my friend!

a poem by

The sight was of the ebbing tide of the Arabian Sea and the stationary ECG display,
Of my sister-in law Shipra, nephew Gautam weeping in despair
and my niece Maya still on the way.
Kannu was a fine Geophysicist.
Of the good turns he has done me there is a very long list.
As half a century of action and love,
Cannot fill a page like a mountain cannot enter a glove,
I will revisit dear Kannu’s memory and wisdom and let his love freeze,
In sequels like gusts of the mountain breeze.

A vision of my father’s childhood

a poem by

My father Durga Charan was born in Nainital to Pundit Laxmi Dutt and Kunti on 15 Dec 1922,
The lake town was happily developed, inhabited and ruled by the British
till they began to feel unwanted in 1942.

My grandfather being a clerk in the education department
who could capitalize on the encouragement the Government schools then
gave Brahmin lads to earn a modern scientific education,
We can now realize that it was not Babus,
but scholars and professionals they were aiming for ours i.e.the succeeding generations.

A little apartheid, a shade like our own caste system existed in the lake town those days.
With the Mall Avenue reserved for the rulers,
while the natives had to share with horsemen their walking ways.

I gather there was much cleanliness, fun, adventure and that law and order was in abundance,
The British administrator knew his subject and subjects and was a man of substance.

My father related that once when a Tommy hit and brought to tears a maize seller
when he asked for his 2 paise,
A well dressed short Englishman who was passing by slapped the soldier,
in the manner of an outlaw being punished by a posse.

“Who be you?”, yelled the tall Tommy,
“The Collector!”,snapped back the Englishman smaller in size,
The boat of the law as always got sometimes rocked
but unlike these days, it never did fully capsize.

Many a great tale has Jim Corbett about our land Kumaon told,
Of a shared love and service rendered by a naturalist and a soldier bold.

The next era of my father’s life was in Shah Jahan’s Agra,
I’ll write next on that, for us a mind broadening era.

Cowdung Embers

a poem by

Through 14 chilly Himalayan nights, warmed by wood fired by cowdung embers,
A loving son his departed father fondly and with sorrow remembers.

A scholar, a saint and mentor to him was he, to the end his mathematics strong.
Despite what others did to him he could do no one any wrong.

A student of the great Physicist Krishnan at Allahabad was he and became a forester by trade,
Reared in penury, he did not much to let that weakening spirit fade.

For him some sloth, fear and resignation was a more comfortable life,
From a well to do doctor’s progeny ,was my good mother,
an educated lady not adept at housekeeping,
his for 50 years a very good wife.

Misery and pain I want to forget and forgive,
I want to offer all offenders an olive.
This is so because most of our life was so grand,
Full of learning, a regal childhood and through our teachers and parents
all of us 3 brothers and 1 sister on our feet comfortably and proudly stand.

Memories thus I pull out, of colonial hearths and mantles,
Of sloping roofs, outdoor kitchens, jungles,
mountains,servants, bungalows, jeeps, a 1949 Ford Deluxe,
of pebble strewn roads, wooden bridges, mahauts, streams
and fine old crockery fed with water boiled in wood fired soot covered kettles.

This epitaph which I have today begun
will by the grace of the Lord one day in many chapters end.
If for nothing else my Baba’s memory will all to knowledge and goodness bend.

Living Nostalgia

a poem by

Ride boy, ride tough, the handsome old man said,
Ride like the wing o’er impassive highlands.
Tricycle wheeled freely amidst mellowing flowers
Nothing can stop thee, ride boy, ride tough.
Seed of infancy skirting garden hedges,
Me in my freckle faced innocence.

Speed boy, speed away, the handsome old man said,
Speed away like the cheetah o’er spotted plains.
Sports coupe skidded dangerously o’er cobblestones
Nothing can stop thee, speed boy, speed away.
Seed of youth burning motorway stretches,
Me in my hot blooded ecstacy.

Fly boy, fly high, the handsome old man said,
Fly like the eagle o’er towering peaks.
Jet flames streaked haughtily o’er serene skies
Nothing can stop thee, fly boy, fly high.
Seed of maturity tearing apart sound barriers,
Me in my composed confidence.

Make boy, make the world yours, given thee by Gods
Cease not, build mighty, feel proud,
The handsome old man said dying
By the cold fireside.
I live, yet, with his echoes of wisdom
Drenching my tears o’er his regal tomb.