Poems
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
The Call
1974
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.
The Becoming
1974
I sit here in a timeless state
extending myself
into
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
down
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
Koel's disguise.
I colour myself into a painting
compose myself into a 'raga'
and
sculpt myself into a house.
Mingling with various people
sharing their joys and sorrows,
I shed my limits
to experience
the limitless.
Seeking
1974
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 within ourselfs.
No Shirish left
1976
A wandering cloud wanders in the blue sky plays with the wind and sky becomes the wind and sky No cloud left. The water over the stove boils plays with the heat and air becomes heat and air No water left. Watching this I become the cloud I become the water No Shirish left.
The Maya
1976
Not many days ago, All of a sudden, A group of palms Metamorphosed into people ..... known people conversing with one another. Now, that man has changed into a cow .... a walking cow. The insects have already become leaves and stones Oh God! One day your 'Maya' will turn me mad Totally mad. That day, I await.
Words
1980
I am somebody A 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 Reality Stumbled upon Myself the Somebody dropped off.
Look
1982
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.
A Paradox?
1982
Loving everybody I miss nobody! The joy within feels the joy without! A full life has nothing to fulfill Being nowhere one belongs everywhere.
Offering
1982
Life is one full, wonderful, continuous offering, always offering us something through everything even through pain and conflict. Drowning in this fullness and wholeness of Life, I joyfully become the offered and offering.
Driving through Khandala Ghat
2000
Dirty pot holed mucky roads expressions of dirty, corrupt, greedy minds. Sweaty- diesel fumed endless traffic jams manifestations of confused, non considerate, negligent minds. and then 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.
Madness
1985
"You got everything except one thing Madness! Man needs some madness or else .... or else he never dares cut the rope and be free." Yes Zorba! Madness is the spark of life! the spirit of freedom the breathe of fresh air in this routine, conditioned, claustrophobically stagnant atmosphere. Madness 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 ... 'to be'.! 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.
Varanasi
1987
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 assures them 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.
What happened ?
1987
Ebullient, bubbling joy spirited, spontaneous actions wonder filled, beautiful, innocent faces graceful, lively movements and the boisterously cheerful sounds of these small, playful children here. And there ..... dull, inhibited, conditioned faces awkward, forced movements and the suppressed nervous sounds of those 'grown up, educated' adults. Why? what happened?
Silence
1988
Only in silence one understands the futility of words the futility of symbols In silence one realizes that the map is not the territory In silence one does not justify, compare, impress, manipulate, does not assert, demand or instigate In total silence, there is no 'becoming' no movement only 'being' when an expansive awareness spreading from the centre towards the circumferential infinity
Stillness
1989
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 deprives us of our inner bliss. Aiming at peace through violence today breeds more violence tomorrow Running away from sorrow brings us closer to sorrow. Seeking satisfaction through the act of possession creates greater dissatisfactio. 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 motionles. 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'!
Samsara
1989
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.
The Tentacles
1991
So many outstretched tentacled arms crowding together in a faceless spiky crowd that crowns the urban landscap. 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 Adyar foot bridge
1992
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 futur. Later I learnt that part of the bridge had collapsed due to poor construction. How appropriate 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. When?
The waiting room
1992
The faceless faces in the railway waiting room wear heavily a numb, listless expression upon themselves tired, bored and resigned. Suddenly, 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.... .....laughs.
The oneness
1989
Eyes closed 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 storm and the silence
1990
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? Watching thus 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.
Tolerance & Intolerance
1995
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 self gratifications, 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 violent eruptions or crafty, aggressive allegations, 'we' would like to destroy the 'other' 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 overconsumptio. So could we have an intolerantly tolerant and tolerantly intolerant year not one but many many years to come? Yes, could we cultivate 'intolerance'? intolerance to hollow hypocrisy and corruption, to political idolism and interference, to suppressive goonda pressures to the deteriorating quality of work intolerance to 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 but when "we" compassionately expand, become all encompass and dissolve 'the other' in our all inclusiveness.
Joy
1994
Walking to the seashore on the soft 'joy' of the sand feeling on the bare body the 'joyous' caress of the breeze and then 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' feeling the 'outer' 'joy'!
Empathy
1996
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 engulf 'me' 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 and happy 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.
Priorities
1995
It's just a matter of priorities to own five square feet of commercial space at Nariman point or 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 or 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 or 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.
Distraction
1975
Only distracted propel notice distracted people only distracted, disturbed, distorted people create distractions, disturbances, distortions Those who are busy ‘living’ have no time for these.
At the inauguration of the SDM complex
1986
Sitting here in this huge ceremonial pendal appears redundant. 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.
The light
2006
Washing and revitalizing the various surfaces and forms, breathing life into spaces, the light flows in uniting 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
Being
2000
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' ?
A new dialogue
2007
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.
Small poems / haikus
The lake boils in the rains and steams in the cold Was it a cry or a laugh or a whisper? The frothing brook. Life, We do not enter it We only think and masturbate over it The lotus when it bloomed made no noise The branches of fallen tree becomes trees With the sun behind me I follow my shadow When i switched off the light A light was put on the moonlight. On the branch of a huge Jambul lives A purple flower Wandering across unending, dry, barren lands, I encounter Delight... 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 Poorna laughs We laugh The laughter mingles and... flow on... The river 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 Why? To avoid death Where? 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.