Excerpt From the poem " THE TOWER OF BABEL"

This thunder and contaminated sky-
Are we dying or left behind?
...Again clutch at the towerside
Like mulching leaves,Abusing
Vacuumed words- meaning denied.
              ****
Among us attack,
Among us die, Among us try to decode
And send proofs,Among us allege and deny.
Yet, We don't understand what we do
We are a game or a part of game
                    ...I don't know!
              ****
You know ! once I walked alone in the garden
Some Voice made me turn back
No one -
Certainly none was there.
But said my own self -
"It was I to befool you, fool!"
           ****

MODERN HAMLET -THE LAST PHASE

This evening longs to meet me.
In her dusky countenance,
Conceals a maelstrom of my own darkness.
And I, a docile child, spreading arms,
Hoping to survive or metamorphosed.


Hazardous journey now
Palpitates me not-
What havoc the roaring store in?
I've given no thought.


How many centuries have died undone?
My procrastination 
Even to take a barbiturate
-To have a wink; thinking,
This sixty - watt bulb or electric tube
May not get fused.
(I checked everything meticulously.)


How many centuries have died undone?
While listening to the music,
With tears in eyes -
Fighting some imaginative battles of life,
The pillow under the head
Gets wet..and a dream, after defeating me,
To other world of impossible, flies.


I was to lock the Pandora Box.
Only didn't know its place…
but every room and every corner had a sunlit sky
Then it opened my third eye
And you know !!!
'Every sun has to die !'
Why not to put out this light
And to see myself in centre of my own light…


Thus, I've reached the box.


It's therefore, I say -
Time always chased me
Barefeet and bareheaded
Only this time arrested… after a long strife.
To be ready and waiting with open arms
Hoping to survive or metamorphosed or de-armed.


For death ,I care not
It will die if I do
It will never die …if I'm undone.

The Red Deeps

(A grove where Philips and Maggie used to meet)

Mill on the Floss

Why men mummify their past ?

Build mausoleums in their minds and heart ?

Why they nurture the ashes of time?

And always breathe hard and fast ??

... I was yet to learn.

Your presence, always alone

Longing for Maggie's side

In Red Deeps,where limps

Had made a bed for autumn

Embarks a journey for tears ...

Your pure eyes, frustrated

By the loss of "single chance of happiness"

when rise to watch two birds singing

Just above the head-branch

I learnt -

the Power of the Moments

Their Might and before them

A meek, timid , and prone I.

Yeah philips! I can't see any deformity

In your poetic look

- In your unsaid words

Which always struggled,with palpitations

Victoriously asserted themselves

In the rudeness of Time.

I'm not shocked at all

To see myself in Red Deeps

Following an old philosophy -

Longings can never be brushed aside -

Which was some day, strangled, I found, Could never die

But became an Oasis of Life.

The Rock

Then, the dusk set in-

And the golden Disk disappeared

To the other side of the rock

And he, still hanging,

Kept on thinking about his existence

What had there been, which he might have lost ?

Here, many a sun wasted and many a moon spoilt

Until now, he never saw himself at things

Which made love die in the lover's very eyes.

This rock never held him in promise

But his heart said all otherwise.

Was that mere a passion-

Why was then his eyes wet and soul so bright?

Every jerk now and then,

Writing a new expression-

Garbled his sense of doing and being.

Questioning seeking, sometimes retiring -

Desperate for even a little niche.

And he recalled- a Battle field

A vast armada of tragic flaws and total black out

Reluctant Hamlet -Hesitant Arjuna

Both in need of a walking stick.

Then the call-"Arjuna! Don't live for the End."

"You can't live upto the End."

He found himself at peace

Perplexities- ruffles of the disturbed mind

Chinks and crumbles falling of rock on his being

Looked like Rain drops in the poor man's field.

Thus, he was hanging-

He dared not look below

(for it, he had lost the sense of belonging. )

He was not feeling like looking above

(for,he simply could not imagine.)

He was feeling the rock

Was it love? - the question lost its meaning

Now,his eyes were daubing every inch of the space in between...

He knew not what if conquered

As he could die too with a gust of wind

All expectations pruned - all questions dropped

He was in delirium or simply feeling at home.