They rose from amongst the yellowing leaves

And the fallen twigs of yesterday’s showers

They fed on despoiled flower petals

That lay weeping on the muddied ground.

They borrowed the gold from the specks of dust

That float about in the evening sun rays

Lightning gave them life and wind

Gave them flight to set sail

On their fragile, transparent wings

The butterflies of yesterday floated gay

Silently rambunctious, quietly wild

Their wings flared up woodfire stoves

And the vibrant turmeric of the kitchen jars

They neither spoke nor had a voice

Only the flutter of their wings and the soft thump of their tiny little feet

On the beaming crown of an expectant flower

Performed their chores dutifully.

All in a day’s work for them

And they quietly fade away in some dull, dark corner of the earth

After pollination.


This uncouth child

Coils round and round, chokes

The breath, this serpentine mind

Hisses sweet lethargic rhymes, peeps in

From behind mossy piles of work, this uncouth child.

Flowers in hair,tinkling

Laughter echoes down the hall, shaking

Autumn leaves from her skirt, she bares

These fear serpents by the tail, devours them whole.


Mortals with her siren chants, leads one away skipping

Takes by the hand while duties lay abandoned, yawning

Stretching their heavy limbs in blissful slumbers.

As you become playmates, she strokes the hair

Singing nursery rhymes, enchanting beware

While you fall asleep, unaware

Of duties lying, oh so bare!



( This post is in celebration of Wesak, a festival which commemorates the birth, the attaining of Buddhahood and the death of Lord Buddha which takes place today. This festival is generally known as a festival of light where we light lanterns, adorn the houses in strings of light and basically bedazzle our environment in a festive, yet tranquil manner. The temple plays the major role in this festival thus giving it that sense of peace, serenity and fulfillment. I have tried merely to capture the overwhelmingly ecstatic aura which surrounds the household during the festival and this is just a fraction of it that I have managed to behold in my humble words.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ves%C4%81kha )

I lit three lanterns today

Red for love, yellow for happiness

White for peace, perpetual cravings

Of the heart, the mind and the soul

That shall not be appeased, for there is always

Something amiss for us

The mortals, the never satisfied.

Yet, the garden

Flecked with morcels of light sang

Happy songs, quiet and calm, it swayed

Under a full moon that hung precariously from the heavens

Perfumed with the frangipani of the morning and the kadupul

The queen of the night.

The globes of light swayed, lulled

With the sacred breeze from the temple, perfumed

With incense and oil lamps, it soothed

Bathed and cleansed, for a moment

For one fleeting moment,

The weight of the world fell off sagging shoulders

While the rows of lights blinked, winked and glistened

Bathed and dazzled a chimeric state of mind.

Thank you so,very much for the award and to all those who voted for me. Hugzzz!

Can’t I?

Can’t I

Lose myself between words, get lost

Between the pages of a dusty old book

That nobody opens, curl up

Like a C, go to sleep

Warm and cosy

And hope that nobody will notice?

Can’t I

Hide between the leaves

Of a dewy frangipani tree,lulled

By the tranquil scents,smile

At a rising sun, float

To an embracing earth,borne

Upon the feathery wings,of a

Gentle flowing breeze?

Can’t I

Dive in to your arms, lose myself


In to the folds of your skin, dissolve

In to the pores of your flesh,hide

In the marrow of your bones, flow

Within the course of your veins

Dwell within

Without ever been seen but

Forever felt?

Let the nose lead the way…

5.30 Pm.Tired,I drag myself home after hours of skimming that dried out land of knowledge,perusing through book shelves of shops and ultimately looking down on empty hands,arriving at a dead end.Tired,I let my nose do all the seeing,the hearing,the sensing.My eyes,too tired from diving within words,passages and mysterious writings in a foreign language that I don’t quite understand.I walk,half drag myself home through the crowd,feeling as if I’m swimming against the currants as I wade through the flood of arms,legs and buttocks when all around me,people walk past in a different direction.I smell the vehicle fumes,the carbon wafting through my nostrils,lodging themselves in the brain,the artilleries heaving themselves under the weight,the fragile blood vessels bursting with pressure.I smell the laden fumes of leather,shoe polish,musty air conditioning and rubber,I smell the rather synthetic smell of new cloths mingled with the cool fumes of trapped air conditioning,plastic wrapping,stale sweat and cardboard boxes.I smell body lotion,heady perfumes,sometimes cheap,sometimes costly,sometimes chemical,piercing,confusing,sometimes subtle,simple and nice.I smell the fragile feminine fragrance of gardenias,jasmine, camellia and sometimes even roses as busy looking females bustle past,leaving behind only their lingering scents,left to roam the earth unattended.I smell musk,I smell that sickly sweet scent of a commonly used men’s fragrance,I smell that sublimely earthy wood that I find quite seductive,I sense that delightfully subtle scent of a masculine spicy cologne that I have always adored and still continue to do so.I smell sandal wood,resin and incense and I know that I’m walking past that little ayurvedic boutique that sells everything from herbal face packs to little dark lumps that you take with bee’s honey for stomach aches and digestive problems.I sense the delicious aromas of baking,of cakes and bread teasing the senses,tempting,titillating,alluring many stray dogs to flock at the bakery entrance,waiting and wagging in anticipation.I let my nose lead me away from the hustle and bustle of the city on to a quieter street where I smell tree roots,kottu,raw leaves and wet,dull earth.

It’s only a matter of time till my nose delights in those homey aromas again.

It’s quite a treat after a tiring day,coming home to that comforting smell of belonging,home cooking,smells that welcome,cleanse of all the hatred,the hostilities of the outside world,envelops in a warm lovely embrace and make it all go away.These are the essences that I grew up with,have learnt to seek refuge in, as a result which they have grown a part of my extended self.I am home when I sense my two doggy poos licking away at my palms.I am home.


Music of the rain

Stepping out of the shower dewy and refreshed

smelling like a field of flowers after the rain

I wonder

why my fever speaks to me in encrypted tongues

It sings to me

in tune with the pitter-patter of the rain

untold stories flow in the drains.My fever hums

Listen carefully

you can hear the angels weep,the flutter of their wings

as they flee the wrath of untamed beasts

The thunder growls unheard chants

My fever hisses in my ear,its shrill wicked tongues

lick the ear lobes,burning,drills inside with piercing cries

Drenched birds harmonize

Hop across the railings in a frenzied,ritualistic dance

Strange though,no whispering wind

murmurs in my ear secrets swept across the lands

of forbidden things.

The thunder growls unheard melodies

My fever sings in tongues,I listen, enthralled

beguiled,hypnotized,I listen with bedazzled eyes

The sky weeps so,in heart rendering cries

the lightning’s harsh,the chastised raindrops

droop to the ground.Music needs no language

to speak to the soul.

The rain seemed lonely.It sang so sweet

of solitude,of anguish

and other melancholy deals

So I,

Let the rain in,opened my doors

Kept each other company,my fever,the rain

And a hazy-eyed I.




Life changing moments…

It’s 4.30 in the afternoon.The world seemed diluted in this deliciously syrupy golden glow that the sun generously ladles out usually at this time of the day(which reminds me of my mother’s afternoon snacks of pancakes,patties,cheese cake,miscellaneous tit bits and animated conversation) Everything’s quiet except for the silent swish-swishing of the neighbor sweeping her lawn,the yelps of my two darling pups downstairs and the squabbling of the squirrels and the birds who haunt the many nooks and corners of the garden.The mango tree out at the front rustles it’s leaves at me in greeting and tiny,transparent specks of dust are dancing in a ray of light which emerges out of the lush boscage of jade-green leaves,undoubtedly drunk in this honeyed aureate glow of the sun.I realize that I’m smiling.All alone sitting out here with my cup of afternoon tea and armed only with my notepad with its various scribblings I’m thinking….these are the moments in life when you actually feel thankful that you’re alive.The breeze just brushes across the cheeks,plays with the hair and leaves me in utter ecstasy.My fingers scribble across the pages in a frenzied tribal dance.In this afternoon glow,the world seems less menacing than usual,more amicable and somehow,more intimate.It is homey and comfortable,fresh,as a newly hatched baby bird slowly preening its unformed fragile wings,still uncorrupted from the grime and grit of a merciless,polluted world.And that’s what I felt like – like a newly hatched baby bird,rejuvenated,pure and untouched.This is the height of utmost tranquility and peace of mind,away from the daily peeves and chagrins,away from the cares of the world,the ultimate etheriality of the soul.Simply,a beautifully lucid moment in an otherwise complicated life…..

My usual cup of afternoon tea seemed distinctively gratifying than usual.