DESIGN OF LIFE

Dreams rotate, alarm squeaks, feet gravitate towards flipflops.

 White toothpaste ready to cleanse teeth and groggy dreams,

Hands grab towel, mind attempts to awake,

feet cover the robotic ten steps to altar room,

accustomed hands folded; body set for the day.

Exercise, tea accompany morning pages and meditation,

pattern etched as in the curtains of the living room,

A conviction for the day snowballs easily.

Wrinkles in relations smoothen, scratch to gossip foggy,

novel pages intimate to Indian aroma of fingers

characters in race with spiciness of curry 

the Wordle app gears to occupy me next,

Sudoku book stares for its turn

Ancient game of household tasks

tops the charts.

Design of life to keep moving,

A game of musical chair, roles shift,  

Acting continues till director whispers cut.

MOOD TO CHANGE

             
                               
                                            

Weight of finite upbringing and carved influences

vividly cemented thoughts order repetitive actions

most lacking lustre and genuine intent

robotic mode switched on enough times

anger, jealousy and irritation spilling out of seams.

Efforts persevere to deny and block negativity 

The might revels in its well-reharsed stubborn habit

Tried time and again to pitch

Makeshift tents of compassion and affinity

The cruel storm of impatience breathes

morning, noon and night

Change carves with cold deliberation

Grace trickles in as hide and seek

mustering to fill the hollow  

The umbilical cord snaps one day

chirping squeals of delight

toe of positivity steps in

wriggling room for more

Eh not bad, isn't it, nudges patience! 

Compassion and empathy queue behind, 

all padded for the onslaught

anger and impatience sedated to hibernate.

Mind and body substituting reaction with response

Subtle shift of thought and will to empower the pauses

Toddler beginnings for new tidings.

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.