My apologies

I have forgotten to take care of my mirror!

The mirror on my bedroom wall has cried for long now,

dejected, unattended and forlorn.

Suddenly a truth dawns

that it has been decades since I have noticed her;

Time, indeed has elapsed!

The remnants are

those scary dark circles beneath the eyes,

patches of aging on the forehead,

certain black spots that might not be on the surface

yet has started to grow from within

where a peeling off has taken place,

instead of that olden glow and

that strange familiar proud lift of the jaw line

which, now, is seldom perceived!

The mirror at present stares

with a tired disheveled look.

Will you forgive me, O Mirror?

I got busy walking the long roads,

carefully skipping and jumping

the potholes and the ditches,

hurrying up in bents and curves and forlorn alleys,

with such utmost care and caution

and I forgot you!

Now, when I have come back after toiling the day,

stitching up every hole and knitting together

every unwanted rip,

hemming the corners that so very often protrude,

striving to unfasten the tangles and knots,

sometimes ...

weaving a patchwork,

sometimes...

painting a collage,

painstakingly making an effort,

so that the colors don’t smudge,

wiping away neatly all unwanted blotches or smear,

now that I have come back after toiling the day,

I find my mirror

with a choked longing and

a smothered dream

and some extinguished hopes.

The distance between me and my mirror

appears unfathomable, a void that quivers

so palpably yet so subtly in between us.

Who is it

Or

What is it

I was seeking,

that now, my mirror seems to be

an absolute stranger to my own self?

My neighbor's cat!

My neighbour’s cute, furry little cat

is moody, and prefers a decent polite pat.

You aren’t allowed to ruffle her tresses curled,

she is forever complacent and smug in this big cold world.

Impeccably groomed, gracefully beautiful,

she is a coquette with only a few wrinkles!

She doesn’t sleep anywhere, just any table or any chair,

only a cozy lap will do and that too if she’s invited with care.

Her tricky maneuvers defy the law of gravity,

she would easily boast her majestic charm and her suavity.

She is immune to flattery and mostly prefers to purr and whine;

She yawns at your crooning, strides away bored, with a pride I can’t begin to define.

She never bothers to catch a rat or a mouse and that’s her mystery;

drudgery is not for her, you will have to serve if and when she’s hungry.

Rushing to kitchen, I see her licking her paw in poise, without any ado;

she renders a look that says - Yeah I drank the milk and slurped away the cream too!

Do never make a mistake of being angry for she just doesn't care;

In front of your haughty temper, she will coolly pad away with her dainty tail in the air.

it's time to go ...

My poems have failed me now;

my poems are not worth a penny anymore!

Words have flown to a far away distance,

devoid of love,

devoid of pain,

into a land covered with frozen frost,

faceless and nameless,

or may be to a cursed sea shore.

In the morning,

my pen tried to scribble in a callous attempt,

fondling a few rhetorics in a futile fashion,

but the lines are not worth a pie today.

I have entered a barren alley

where my creativity is caught, a prey

of doubts and of prejudices,

like a helpless insect in the grip of tweezers.

Infertility hangs around as dense as a mountain fog,

covering my vision with an impenetrable cataract.

Thoughts are un-sublime today,

my ideas a commoner.

I would better hide my poverty-stricken soul

and quit quietly now,

for my pen won’t make a rhyme anymore.

Now, I better give up and go,

else you could call me a fake poet tomorrow.

School ...

I could recall my school days;

the 9am morning mass, the blue tunic frock and blue ribbon pony tail, and a forlorn scary never ending corridor. The Sister’s shrill voice defining the ways of the world and how moon travels around the earth, her solid tight knuckled fist moving in frenzy on the black board.

I remember Shumali the tall girl at the last bench; her only fault was she used to love the bright morning outside much more than the gray dull wall paint of the classroom. I can recall her sobs as Mother Superior broke a ruler on her palm for she dared to whisper in the class! Her sobs was still ringing in my ears as I was desperately trying to observe how Sister was pointing the solar system on a stale chart - ‘copy them carefully, any mistakes or smudges you would have to do it 100 times over!’ I remember my careful efforts not to be seen with ‘bad girl’ Shumali!

School was discipline, regularity, stiff upper lipped Sisters, everything so different from home, everything so much away from a warm smile. My math teacher’s face kept hovering in my head like a nightmare all through. Among all the girls' cheerful shout and running around, how I used to sit alone in front of the huge Peepal tree at the small ground and create my own fantasy world along with those crows and other birds and a lonely black faced monkey.

I remember the efforts learning to dance and sing and my never ending tears as I was chosen to be a coachman for the annual function and how much I wanted to be the fairy!

I remember sitting on the first bench trying to concentrate but all through remembering the mint scent of my mom’s sari and how cozy it felt when I used to tuck my head in her bosom.

During monsoon I would quietly go to the backyard just to watch the frogs and the centipedes minutely and in no time I would be lost in their world, imagining me as one of them, while the others would be busy in kho kho or kabaddi or any other sports.

I had never loved being at school, yet later, when I left it to take a plunge into the big bad world, I knew the young light that used to kiss the skirting of the school building would never be the same. The walls around would never be as protective again. The world I am into, will never be so safe again.

And to my dismay, I lost my little friend innocence in the twisted bent of that long scary prison-like corridor when I left school.

Love ..

Love is not really a baskin-robbins ice cream that it comes in many shades and flavors and would melt away after a while! LOVE happens only once and it stays even if the person doesn't. It's a pity that only few fortunate ones could experience real love......

After you had left

I searched for traces of anger

along the crevice and cranny of my brain,

but to my dismay there was none!

After you had left

I rummaged through the flaps and folders of my psyche

for signs of sorrow and pain,

but to my surprise couldn’t find even one!

After you had left

I explored the bends and boulevards of my soul

for a few remaining tear drops,

but was astonished to see all of them gone!

Why don’t I feel alone and lost, I wonder!

And then I smile at my own naivety,

for why would I feel lonely and cold?

I have already gathered the branches of my memories,

and picked up the leaves of those spent moments;

I ignited them with the remembrance of your touch,

wiping away the dampness of doubts

and drying out the wetness from over my cheek,

I blew the kiss of your lips into it

to set the fire.

Now I keep myself warm with its molten red glow,

now I will never be lonely and cold.

For the strength of love and

the warmth of memories and desire

will keep this fire crackling and burning lifelong!

When you left

You have taken away your presence,

but you forgot to take your soul

which still remains entwined with mine.

Confusion ...

Everything got peculiarly mixed up last night!

The yellow leaves and the autumn moon;

the fire tongued demon called past and the ambiguity of the future;

they all got fastened, overlapping one another, and I cried!

The forlorn kite and the solitary bird

both of whom are busy trying to balance on their wings;

the yellow sun at the mountain peak and

the orange ball at the tip of a juggler’s finger;

the mask and honest humanity;

the transitory ness of a water bubble and human life;

all were merged together, and I cried!

A pain and a solace,

a blemish and a love bite,

a separation and the darkest night,

her love and my love, betrayal and jealousy, tears and a smile,

my life and her shadow,

everything got jumbled and joined, and I cried!

Last night, perhaps, even I could have written those saddest lines!

I wish I could ....

Shards of love;

the wreck often piles up;

It is weird how you will have each other,

yet a constant loneliness would keep

gnawing at your heart, at times

nagging your soul!

Often, you would know what you want

yet you hold back.

perhaps, you can not let go of what you aready have,

even though the future appears promising.

And then you sit on the debris of your love,

touching and retouching the wreck

with your finger tips time and again,

relentlessly repenting and murmuring

to yourself

‘I just wish I had the courage’!

apprehension ...

So many seasons and I survived them too.

A future as capricious as the past,

uncertainity, vague as nature’s whim,

doubt and dismay as intense as the indigo ocean,

apprehension, candid as an errupting volcano,

many more tears to shed,

many more dreams to be shattered,

many more deaths to die,

Yet

a rainbow;

a wide azure horizon;

yet love;

and a wedding ring!

Indeed! Strange are the ways of the soul!