Left Behind

Leaves they shed as seasons go by
Countless layers with flying time
Peeling each one back, I see
The ravages of time or an improvement perhaps.

Yesterday plays a beautiful lullaby
Beckoning me forth to the warm cocoon of nostalgia
While today sways from good to bad
Maybe the morro holds true hope?

What I was to what I will be
A timeline marked by endless moments
Moments, always holding court
Taking me further away from reality, the now!

My mirror from past paints a picture
Hurriedly I rub the dirt away
Worried that dirt's all that survived
That the chinks shine through all the glow

Today calls me silly
Silly since I am already a pretty picture
I could try harder
But I will be what I am, what I was

To make peace is a dream
Acceptance is likely the path
Seasons it's taken for truth to emerge
All the leaves, the mulch and dirt gets left behind.

Cattle Goes Moo.... That is all it does!

Indians have been a servile lot from the medieval times, always looking upto a leader to guide them to 'Ramarajya'. While many of these iconic leaders have gone down in history as the people who changed the face of Bharat, we the current movers and shakers of Indian sub-continent need to ask this to ourselves, 'Why do we allow ourselves to be led like cattle from time to time?'

After centuries of subjugation, a few free thinkers gifted us the idea of democracy through a Constitution, by, for and of the people. We got gifted the concept of free and fair elections. Adult suffrage and equality to all irrespective of caste, religion and gender were envisaged. Do not get me wrong, plenty has changed and I feel blessed to be the citizen of a free India. Yet here we are again in midst of another monarchy called the 'Modi sarkar'. Majority of Indians now look upto this one man show to solve all their problems. Be it caste based or religious discrimination, women safety, poverty, environmental degradation, agrarian crisis or any other trouble that plagues us, we expect PM Modi to be our saviour. We constantly keep forgetting to look within ourselves to find solutions and then blame the government alias Modiji for not figuring things out.

One year into the Modi sarkar, what are we seeing? Executive, legislative and judicial independence shot to hell, setting of political agendas opposed to public interest, lack of succor for victims of agrarian crisis, environmental concerns being thrown out of the window for the sake of soulless corporations, the list of failings may go on. Not much has changed and yet we the people refuse to use the gifts of democracy bestowed on us. Public debates, RTIs and writs remain the weapon of choice for a few conscientious individuals and the civil society which is sad considering that India is the second most populated country in the world.

Quoting an article I read in The Hindu today, 'The problem is not created by an individual politician like Mr Modi; it is a reflection of the consistent infantilisation of citizens in these democracies, which have eviscerated their power. What is more concerning than the dumbing down of political discourse is the public's response.'

And until people rise upto the occasion, all the cattle can do is to 'moo' away. 

Conscience?! Nonsense!!

I do not like me.

You should not like you.

You who tots a weapon with glee,

Me with my misplaced sense of justice.

Rearing ambitions and raging hormones,

Contributing to this sad plight called earth.

A race defined by its so called conscience,

Laying waste to this planet.

Are we better or those instinctual dumb brutes?

Right and wrong displaced with grey areas.

And karma shot to hell.

Where does this journey lead?

What legacy do we leave behind?

Speaking of Ghosts from Fair Countryside

When we encounter haunted, scary places, I often wonder what kind of spirits lurk in the dark, whether they are good or bad, whether they will harm me. Here is a poem on that thought.

Objects to speak of there maybe many
For now, this mind dwells on one
On clanking chains and burdens heavy
Of my skipping countryside ghosts
And the ones,townsfolk deem scary.

Business of ghosts, I tell you, is morbid.
If've seen one, I'd probably run fast
But behind a desk, writing on them is what I did
Versions of ghosts, of the ones happy and sad,
Of the ones that found peace and ones with heavy hearts.

Spirits be all same lurking around in dark corners
But to who doth the heart wish joy?
Whether it be for the cold souls dragged asunder
Or the ones floating in joyous abandon
Long and hard I ponder.

Sordid tales maybe told of the crummy ones from town
With their evil glint and unhappy howls
But what of the mischievous poltergeist, beckoning to us like a funny clown
Tales of terror, nay not for those,
For in my gay countryside, whats to frown?

Let me chance upon one so gay
Or one so melancholy to cast a pall of gloom
When I too am on my way.
Bandying along with the simple village folks is what I'd choose
Turning in the grave be for those careworn that day.

With a desire for the mind made free
I'd rather be the one skipping along
Than be the nasty apparition bearing ill will,
With care and concern left behind,
Dancing about to a happy tune in my countryside.

A Strange Goodbye

Goodbye to those last vestiges of pain

To those lovely reminders of a fast approaching end

Those marching soldiers of death always forward

Goodbye my faithful yet demanding friend

I gave you my life and now I am reclaiming it back

You wont give up that easily.

Quit your tenacious grip in my brain

It is not going to work

This old girl has crossed over to the other side

Meet me there if you dare

No, I must'nt chide you

I must thank you for your unrestrained company

Would have continued walking by your side

Till death do us part

But I want to live now so let me be.

I thank thee once again

With wishes for you to not come back.

This is what I call, a strange goodbye.

To Heaven and Beyond

Photographs cannot grasp as many moments as words. The limits for imagination get stretched beyond anything which is why this need to pen down my thoughts. This is more in the nature of expressing my feeling of awe. It is strange how cities make you yap incessantly, every word uttered quite inconsequential and insignificant. Not quite the case in places far removed from civilization as we know it. Here I don't dare utter a word out of context from the fear of disrespecting the beauty around me. Surrounded by limitless towering peaks and lush stretches of land, I do not feel diminished by this vastness. On the contrary there is a sense of challenge. I am invigorated to do everything in my power to preserve this beauty. Arunachal Pradesh the "valley of lights" has invoked this light within me.

Death’s Dance in the Palms of Mortals

Booming turmoil through a normal day

There a sun turns red with rage

And here mortals writhe in pain

Embellishing one’s mind with all that gore

What’s the point, one may ask

In a world disturbed thus

Such questions appearing polarized

Endless debates leading to nowhere

Disturbed by the human toll

There is a tug at one’s heart

Far removed from all these miseries

And yet, is one an island?

Concern writ on the ones who survived

For victims of the perverseness of human mind

Concern that it could be me another time

Losing everything, spare inches from oblivion

The toil and sweat of a thousand gone

Cascading down into a pile of rubbish

Thousands thoughts being the definitive cause

While creation and destruction see-saw

One wonders at the infinite power to create and destroy

Scary though sounds such a proposition

Truth ringing from every aspect of this realization

One waits to see in what favour shall the balance tip....