UNSUNG

Ambulances scuttling through streets,

Is it in Syria, Palestine, Yemen or Ukraine?

Forest fires vaporising houses, livelihood and people

Is it in Hawaii, Canada, or Australia? 

Bombings in mosques, synagogues and embassies

Is it in France, Pakistan or America?

Bodies knotted in boats, some capsized, some breathing,

Are they from Mexico, Afghanistan or Sudan?

Numbers losing count.

Bodies, toys and memories

pulled out by faces unexpected,

supporting the grieving and the lonely.

Relief pouring in, unheard hands donating,

a Yuan, a Euro or a Rial, sparse but welcome.

Distant eyes offering compassion, 

blanketing clothes and medicine.

Hope assembling in all shapes and forms,

shedding their layer of offering.

Silently seeking not holiday destinations,

but war-torn areas and disaster hit zones,

coating the needy with warmth.

Disqualified for ramp walks, 

or invading paparazzi clicks.

Each one a polished gem.

Melting marvels all around 

their fragrance blooming withering buds,

their touch bandaging assorted bruises,

their gesture roofing homeless walls.

Beacons of gentleness and charm

missed by artists, poets and awards,

diverse ethnic contours, 

each one a paragon of attraction 

practising the greying habit of giving.

REVISITED

The old flowery album sticking my smile,

unmatured head lost in itself, not a whiff of responsibility.

Slithering away from boulders 

earlier chores done for pats and compliments.

A facade of pampered duplicity

the original asphyxiated

fangs of stress and aches rewarded imitation, 

the sting too acidic to digest.

Bursting dam of tears and guilt, 

past smile scratching my present wound.

Desperate to delete earlier self,

hounded internet and spouse

both weary, one responded, other supported,

a meditation retreat popped up.

Half a dozen years since then, serenity protruding more often,

meditation brought my besties along, mind coughing words,

into poems, limbs throbbing to exercise better.

Chores magnetic pull seeming bit alluring,

black couch gluing me for puzzles and reading, 

nose rumbling for old book shop's smell during holidays,

moods lessening the swing speed,

Bit by bit inching to scrape the unpleasant

a daily trip to extract and preserve the me I found.

A TRAVELLER'S NARRATIVE

The rumbling train wheels match the matured silence 

Both in perfect synchronisation of their own

journey of wheels resting at stations

journey of the couple smooth as blowing aircon air.

Unsaid words stuck on her chain and his blue shirt

understood emotions pasted on the tea lips

some concealed words on his grey moustache

some on her golden ring. 

Fifty-six years of uphill and downhill

each situation so unfamiliarly familiar

occasional silences of hurt and anger

still slipping from her wrinkles. 

His new bangled neckline 

matching her sagging arms

both dripping affection as a rusty tap. 

Both looking out for each other,

their warmth competing with 

the heat of the spicy Indian curry

served in meals on train.

The fluctuating bulb's settled dust

dimming their unsettled greying knots 

Joint experiences thicker than a thread bundle

stretch of train track lengthier than their future

words insufficient to fill every pause and stop

language trying hard to keep their full-fledged relation.

FAMILIAR FREQUENCY

7.55 am, Saigal's crispy nasal twang accompanying dad's voice,
mom occupied in kitchen dishing out breakfast.
Dad ironing school blue tunics and polishing black shoes,
me and my sis arranging timetables in tin school boxes.

8.10 am, dad tuning to voice of Barun Haldar reading news,
the house savouring soft pancakes in hushed silence.
Little ears straining to absorb gigantic world in few minutes,
scribbling breezy headlines to read at morning school assembly.

8.30, radio exchanging ears, dad leaving for work,
half an hour of melodious Hindi movie songs
mom stilling our bobbing heads for neat plaits,
the brown song book noting down favourite numbers.

9.00 am, radio left to guard the locked house,
day flies, evenings usher in homework and studies.
7.30 pm, radio gets attached to family again,
Vividh Bharathi airing songs saluting the armed forces.

Weekends evenings Hindi dramas broadcasted,
cricket match months, heartbeat jumping,
at every six and four relayed
radio, the fifth beaming member of a family.

A READING RELATION

 A part of daily life of mine,

time spent with you is priceless,
A treasure house,
available for pittance.

Everyone can reach you,
Discrimination out of your reach
old or new, each time you surprise me.

I can never have enough
Try sneaking you in my bag always!
You are greatest travel comfort.
Tired, or upset, I pick you up,
and forget my troubles.

I temptingly drown in world of yours
Thirty to forty minutes soaking you,
calms me down.
Just you in my hands and
the conversation we have
is incalculable.

The amazing wealth you offer me,
expecting nothing in return
each time I hold you,
the comfortable feeling comes back,
your touch beckons me again and again.

You unravel mysteries, you lay bare relations,
you hook me to go on and on,
your ending appetite speaks volumes,
with you in my hand, I do not feel alone.

I owe you my stability, my serenity, my enthusiasm.
You arrive each time with a new name and in a different size.
You do not judge me, nor spite me,
Wish, I had made you a part of me earlier.

KNOTS

Enjoying the partnered skipping on rope with friends
the swings in break time, the sharing of lunchboxes at school
not a care of where the world was heading,
which country had a coup, or which country had a war.
No over thinking of what was eaten, or what allergies it would gift.

No religious knots, no racial knots, the only known knots,
of white shoelaces on P.E. day in school.
No panic of shootouts, no scare of terrorist attacks
never heard of deforestations or wildfires.

Never hesitant to talk or help strangers,
muddled mind now sceptic of facial breaks.
Fingers savouring the touch of pen and pencil,
never envisaged their unwanted upgradation to
swipes, likes and dislikes.

Innocent eyes familiar to the sky, chirping birds and starry nights,
squint to locate a star in a skyline of smog.
No malls or food courts to spill overfilled bellies and cupboards,
simple homemade recipes shared over warm company.

No YouTube or google screaming recipes and playlists,
scribbled song and cuisine books languish tattered.
Not carrying phones for clicking and no poses
just simple group photos and visits to the studio to process reels.

Stability, frowned down upon today,
human values wobble still unclear,
when to rest and where to rest.
an unending Ferris wheel,
collapsed mind and body refusing to pause.

Death the final pause, knots broken free at last,
the last change of mortal greed.

BLANKET

The hesitant moon still not out of bed 

a warm cappuccino might awaken it up

snuggled in clouded blanket

tossing and moping over the long night ahead.

Blanket slowly exchanging hands

human beings sneaking into theirs

few tossing and turning 

restlessness, the moon and twin birds for company.

Day's exhaustion drugs the privileged

a handful, see their last moonlit night.

The barren tree, crossed it's prime,

sticking neck out for the pair to doze.

The insular moon cloaked in calm azure  

fidgety blankets adoring the candyfloss look

the rest tucking its serene peace.

Twin birds disregard the cotton candy above

buffet of breath-taking appetites down below

buildings, towers, offices, malls, villas

each man made outwitting the other,

fast food, homemade food, 

oriental or occidental, 

litter sending aromatic signals,

tree-top the precise angle,

lunar light highlighting the senses.