Poetry happens when one does not look at Life as a problem to be solved but as a mystery to be lived.
Poetry happens when the multiple layers and labyrinth of this mystery are reveled and lived.
Poetry happens when one’s life experiences tough a personal as well as a universal chord within.
Poetry happens spontaneously- using words to transcend words.
My poetry does not follow any miter or literary norms. It is an uninhabited, honest expression of a common person.
Some of my poems
I continue walking
walking along the parallel rails,
still believing that they would meet somewhere
they seem to meet at the horizon;
But the further I walk,
further moves the horizon.
I go on ..........
with the firm conviction that
the ireducable distance between me & the horizon
would shrink sometime some where.
I have been going on like this
for the last twenty two years.
Tired, resigned people stop me on the way
and ask me to settle down like them,
somewhere by the side of the parallel rails,
the place where they gave up hope
and stopped walking.
I continue walking .......
the more I walk,
the fewer are the people I meet on the way
They tell me about the many who passed them
and never returned.
I wonder how many have further settled on the way
and how many have reached their goal.
But it bothers me not because
as long as I hear
that distant harkening of my own self
which seems so alienated
at this moment,
I will continue walking .......
to meet my own self.
I thought I heard my voice two nights ago
I woke up with
an ecstatic thrill running through my body.
I waited for it to call me again
so that I could find my bearings
and start walking again.
But it never called.
I stayed up the last two nights,
didn't sleep a wink
fearing I would miss it in
that very second.
I got myself together
to start out
the very moment it beckoned
But it never beckoned.
My voice called me two nights ago
to reveal itself in me,
To manifest itself in me,
to show me where
those parallel rails met.
It may call again
when I am in deep slumber to
wake me, shake me and
set me on the move again.
I would go on moving
that it would call me again
when I am moving
when I am awake.
I sit here in a timeless state
the fresh green offshots
of a withered plant,
mingling with the raindrops
and soaring into the clouds
in the form of yonder hills
then I cascade
as a stream
solidifying into rocks on my way
to later amorphise into soil and dust.
I grow dense and shady
with the jungles.
Soon I am rustling through its leaves
in a constant murmur
singing on its branches in a
I colour myself into a painting
compose myself into a 'raga'
sculpt myself into a house.
Mingling with various people
sharing their joys and sorrows,
I shed my limits
What is life?
What are we striving for ?
What is it that we seek?
The more we strive and the more we seek elsewhere
the less we shall find
Cause all that concerns
life and death
body and soul
God and devil
is transacting and is at work
A wandering cloud
in the blue sky
plays with the wind and sky
becomes the wind and sky
No cloud left.
The water over the stove
plays with the heat and air
becomes heat and air
No water left.
I become the cloud
I become the water
No Shirish left.
Not many days ago,
All of a sudden,
A group of palms
into people .....
known people conversing with one another.
Now, that man
has changed into
a cow .... a walking cow.
have already become
leaves and stones
One day your 'Maya'
will turn me mad
I am somebody
made by words
By a name word,
a money word,
a fame word,
by ten thousand words which make
the 'I' word
Words explaining words.
Once, I missed the word
and stumbled upon
the Somebody dropped off.
Let's look and we will find that every person has something to offer
Let's look deep and we will see that every living being has something to offer
Let's look deeper and we will realize than everything has something to offer
Let's look beyond the depth and we will realize that
Nothing has everything to offer.
I miss nobody!
The joy within
feels the joy without!
A full life
has nothing to fulfill
one belongs everywhere.
Life is one full, wonderful,
always offering us something
even through pain and conflict.
Drowning in this fullness and wholeness
I joyfully become
the offered and offering.
Dirty pot holed mucky roads
expressions of dirty, corrupt, greedy minds.
Sweaty- diesel fumed endless traffic jams
manifestations of confused, non considerate, negligent minds.
Suddenly on the right-
A fresh, clean, cascading, dancing water fall
admist lust green foliage.
Such a pleasant surprise-
-kind of restoring one’s hope and faith in Life.
"You got everything except one thing
Man needs some madness or else ....
or else he never dares cut the rope and be
Yes Zorba! Madness is the spark of life!
the spirit of freedom
the breathe of fresh air
in this routine, conditioned, claustrophobically stagnant atmosphere.
that always creates, innovates, improvises
for others to scorn, mock, ridicule and then
belatedly follow .... by then
a new madness starts ...
bubbling with life energy
with the intense desire to express, to manifest ...
Madness is the end of hypocracy !
madness is the courageous beginning of spontaneity
Madness is to be free ..
free to love, to shout, to sing, to dance, to cry ...
to abandon one's self
to let go
is to have.
The poor, wretched, decaying lepers
wait for ages on the ageless and aging ghats.
The stale stench of urine and the hurriedly half burnt corpses
do not weaken their hope that
the holy Ganga will heal them
They wait ....
as parts of their body slowly and painfully shed themselves.
Thirty one shaven, oily heads dumbly sit
shining in the weary sun,
A ring of dried grass in their fingers and
a fat, sweaty priest mumbling vague sounds in their midst
that the spirit of their dead relative burning nearby
will soar to heaven with the smoke.
Very carefully, respectfully and seriously
they carry the ashes of the body that was once
abused, insulted, harassed and loved by them.
He sits under a large thatch umbrella ...
selling good fortune
prices varying from 10 to 200 paise
confused, anticipating, fortune seeking faithfuls buy it
on their wet, demanding foreheads.
Walking along overflowing drains
in the dark narrow alleys,
A 'holy' cow walks regally & confidently
pushing me against
a red spat upon wall.
I sit on these ancient, vibrant steps
of the picturesque ghats
mind travelling through
the myriad spaces and recesses, labyrinths and mazes of
this mysterious 'holy' ' unholy' city ....
the human mind.
Ebullient, bubbling joy
spirited, spontaneous actions
wonder filled, beautiful, innocent faces
graceful, lively movements and
the boisterously cheerful sounds
of these small, playful children
And there .....
dull, inhibited, conditioned faces
awkward, forced movements and
the suppressed nervous sounds of
those 'grown up, educated' adults.
Why? what happened?
Only in silence
the futility of words
the futility of symbols
that the map is not the territory
one does not justify, compare, impress, manipulate,
does not assert, demand or instigate
In total silence,
there is no 'becoming' no movement
when an expansive awareness
spreading from the centre
towards the circumferential infinity
In our civilization's labyrinth motion,
I search for
the motionless still centre
Every movement done
to reach the stillness
breeds more momentum.
Our quest for outer happiness
of our inner bliss.
Aiming at peace
through violence today
breeds more violence tomorrow
Running away from sorrow
brings us closer to sorrow.
through the act of possession
creates greater dissatisfaction.
All arguments to find a solution
take us further from the solution.
Most knowledge cannot reach the unknown shore
the river contains less when it fills up more.
Mind is movement
with thoughts always restless
only the "Centre" is motionless.
Desire is movement
with the urge for 'having'
only "Love" is unmoving
Time is movement
the past present future tussle
only "Now" is eternal
All is always 'now'
Love is 'here & now'
Stillness is 'here & now'!
Yesterday, I sat here and saw
the splendid panaroma of Nature
and of Life
unfolding itself through the open railing of this verandah.
Today, I see only fragments
through petticoats, sleeves and laces
through the gaps between
towels and underwears
through the trappings of 'Samsara'
hanging and drying on the railing.
So many outstretched
in a faceless spiky crowd
that crowns the urban landscape.
Caricatures of their owners
transmitters of conditioning
shapers of upbringing
creaters of longing
makers of images
and breakers of images.
Long, light, shining
outstretched, straightfaced, rigid tentacles
These T.V. antenas.
The incomplete, deteriorating bridge
A bridge that starts to bridge
but never reaches the other shore
One shore has the philosophy
goodness of thoughts
and glorious past.
The other has the day to day action
an ever accelerating pace
and an apparently gloomy future.
Later I learnt
that part of the bridge had collapsed
due to poor construction.
that corruption of the human mind
is not allowing the bridging
of past and future
of philosophy and action.
Now, polluted, troubled waters flow beneath.
It is said and believed that
once the bridging occurs,
the waters would turn clean.
The faceless faces
in the railway waiting room
wear heavily a numb, listless expression
tired, bored and resigned.
a beautiful spontaneous bubbling laughter
from one corner
A child dancing and spinning around himself
dizzily to the tune of the life
falls on the floor and....
floating on the placid sea
being carried around
in its soft mellifluous arms
Caressed by the warm sun and the cool breeze
an all pervading goodness of being
descends on me.
Who caresses whom ?
What floats on what?
Does it matter
in this oneness of life?
The roaring, rising, restless sea
the turbulent, howling, jostling wind
and the whipping lashing rain
ruthlessly shake and beat the plants to pain
beyond their tolerant state.
The entire house too seems to tremble and sweat.
With the thunder and flashes by their side
the sound and fury is violently unleashed outside
when I slowly cautiously peep inside,
inside of myself
Can it remain calm and serene
inspite of the restless agitated scene!
Can it be securely at ease
inspite of the insecurity created by the winds & seas?
Can it be a conscious witness of the moment
without any anxious anticipatory torment?
Can it choicelessly accept the present
or will it cultivate aversion and resent?
the choices melt the option disappears
and an enduring, all encompassing silence appears
A silence that deeply & penetratingly shovels
its way into this sound & fury's bowels
only to find itself there
Then the silence inside
merges with that silence outside.
1995 "the year of tolerance"!
Says the United Nations.
Aren't we deceiving ourselves
or vainly trying to console ourselves
by naming it thus?
In a society that encourages
one up manship, egotism and
can tolerance happen?
We carry on with our separatism
born out of religious and ethnic intolerance
resulting into quarrels and oppressive violence.
Hasty intolerant reactions
or crafty, aggressive allegations,
would like to destroy
psychologically or physically.
And at the same time,
Haven't all these years been
'years of tolerance'?
tolerating lies and false commitments,
lack of involvement with
hastily done slip shod work.
We have been tolerating the outcome of
the intolerance of some,
their greed and overconsumption.
So could we have an intolerantly tolerant
and tolerantly intolerant year
not one but many many years to come?
Yes, could we cultivate
intolerance to hollow hypocrisy and corruption,
to political idolism and interference,
to suppressive goonda pressures
to the deteriorating quality of work
the loud, competitive, vulgar commercialization
and the wastefully overindulgent consumption?
And, Could 'tolerance' happen towards
good harmless individual faith
to individual freedom and truth
to individual dignity and life
not through slogans and
politically motivated words
when "we" compassionately expand,
become all encompass
in our all inclusiveness.
Walking to the seashore
on the soft 'joy' of the sand
feeling on the bare body
the 'joyous' caress of the breeze
sliding into the cool 'joy'
of the sea waters and
experiencing the weightless 'joy'
while floating on the waters
with the bright 'joyous' light
dancing on the wave crests.
Returning to the warm, fragrant 'joy' of a bath
the 'joy' of a clean & refreshed feeling
Stepping out of the bathroom
to the glorious, vermillion outburst of 'joy'....
the sunset at sea.
Gradually, the forming of
the twinkling 'joy'
of the stars in the sky
and in this way
'joy' ad infinitum
a 'joyous' continuam of happenings
an 'inner' 'joy'
the 'outer' 'joy'!
Why do 'I' feel satiated
when the plants
are watered after a dry spell?
Why is it that
'I' feel free & happy
when our dog is untied?
How is it that 'I'
feel stable, strong & safe
when certain structural members
are strengthened & braced properly?
What makes 'me' bubble within
at the sight of
a babbling, frothing stream or waterfall?
Why does a feeling of weightlessness
at the sight of that bird's lovely flight?
Why do 'I' feel cleansed, refreshed
in a beautiful, clean environment?
Why is it
that 'I' feel balanced and harmonious within
in a well designed space?
Why do 'I' feel sad
at the exploitation of the poor
at the free, open, spontaneous smile
on people's faces?
Is this empathy
born out of
the wholistic unified experience of life
or is it the extension & sublimation of my ego?
Why do I have to ask these questions?
Why do I have to verbalize a living experience?
Let the feelings flow spontaneously
to grace the actions
allowing the actions to happen
in tune with life's richness & wholeness.
It's just a matter
to own five square feet
of commercial space at
five acres of natural wilderness
in the Konkan.
Both cost the same!
Isn't it a matter of choice
to join the money making rat race
in your imported, air conditioned, air freshened BMW
on the busy, noisy neon lit high street
withdraw onto the slow lane
with shady trees and chirping birds
working with love, joy and compassion.
Both the possibilities are always open!
Yes, a matter of attitudes in
one's idea of enjoyment
to sip scotch
with the social glitterati
in gaudy, gossipy, glamorously cluttered gaziboes
dressed in perfumed, imported designer clothes
it could be
a naked dip in the roaring seas
a walk amidst fragrant blossoming trees
and a quiet uncluttering of
one's inner spaces
the choice is ours the superficial or the intrinsic
Always a matter of priorities in
approaching life's summation
through the crowded world of information
with numerous communication medias
each with its own phobias or
approaching life's diversity
with thoughtful value based priority
and with an empty mind's innocence
that can transcend all turbulence
Both the categories exist
Yes, these are the very priorities
that shape our societies
and help us tackle daily realities.
Only distracted propel
only distracted, disturbed, distorted people
distractions, disturbances, distortions
Those who are busy ‘living’
have no time for these.
Sitting here in this huge ceremonial pendal
The hours and hours of standing in the sun
amidst stones, cement and dust
putting them together
was so much more relevant & satisfying.
Listening to praises being showered upon on the microphone
does not feel as enjoyable as
the music of the dressing of stones,
the concrete mixers vibrations,
the workers shouts and
the first sounds of our cascading water
in the entrance pool.
Washing and revitalizing
the various surfaces and forms,
breathing life into spaces,
the light flows in
the outside with the inside
the measurable with the immeasurable
the four dimensions with the ‘spirit’ dimension
An expressive awareness
Starts spreading from the centre
Towards the circumferential infinity
Many a times, there seems to be something deeper,
something of greater relevance and significance
to this daily act of LIVING.
The more I attempt to describe it, the more I seem to loose it
With no hang ups or compulsions
for climbing the social, professional, monetary ladder,.
every journey becomes its own destination
every moment - Life's glorious rejoicing
Could I not rejoice in just 'BEING' ?
Lived on the mountain top, then in the valley;
and then by the seashore—further and further away from my hometown.
‘Whereto from here?’ – chuckled my friends.
‘onto an island or under the sea ?’
But with graying hair and after the
hectic travel and maintenance activity at all these places,
their howling winds, gushing streams and the roaring restless seas –
a serene placid lake, nestled amidst green wooded hills,
nearer to my hometown, beckoned me.
Fitting myself snugly on the hill slope facing the lake,
I started this new dialogue –
with its lapping waves
and rustling forest leaves;
with the mewing peacocks, cackling wild fowl,
the grunting sambars and the twittering birds.
Assimilating within ,
the shepherd’s flute tunes that float over the waters
and the setting sun’s colourful palette,
I gradually learn to converse with
the lake’s eloquent silence,
and its mute reflections.
Probing its enigmatic depth seems like
delving deeper into my own self.
The lake boils in the rains
and steams in the cold
Was it a cry or a laugh
or a whisper?
The frothing brook.
We do not enter it
We only think and masturbate over it
when it bloomed
made no noise
of fallen tree
With the sun behind me
When i switched off the light
A light was put on
On the branch of a huge Jambul
A purple flower
Wandering across unending, dry, barren lands,
A boy with two mangoes in his hands is dancing
to the tune of life
in the cool shade of a large mango tree.
The river laughs
The laughter mingles and...
when it flows
makes a moving sound
making us hear
the soundless sound
We are working in life
we are eating in life
We are running in life
To avoid death
to meet death!
In the city we pay for some peace and quiet
In the village they pay for some noise
Man always wants that he does not have.