Reverberations

The Spider Falls Down

Thin, withered and old; disabled and cold, No working senses within; ugly, untidy and mean; No one around to help; left disgracefully to oneself, This spider knows not what to do; but counts its last years (a few)... All life it worked hard, to weave a web so beautiful, So big a web that malice would never be able to penetrate through; Broken time and again, yet its strength and vigour never died, That aspiration is still unfulfilled, that dream unsatisfied. All life, worked hard, to secure pieces to spiders it loved, Those spiders have now metamorphosed to mammoths so large; While the spider lies here, looking for them to someday return, It knows well, they are busy; Mammoths never fit into spiders' cobs! The spider sulks and skulks all day, there is nothing else to do, It eats bitterness and shallows all day, nothing to feed onto; It remembers those days of efforts, now spent fruitless and vile, It remembers those filthy monsters and cries alone in this lonely isle. Alas, when 'morrow comes, these morons will be spiders once more! No more time to wait for them, there is no reason to mourn; Aspirations unfulfilled and dreams unsatisfied... Die? Will you!!! Awake, arise and show them that the spark is still warm and unsubdued. With all its effort, the spider climbs up, wasting no more time, To recover the waste of time that could never be recovered fine; To make a mark in the world, no time is so late; Efforts are important... and results will certainly be great. With all its extraneous energy, saved over all these years, The little energy saved from the rearing up of these morons, One jump here and another jump there, the web spins; So magnificent, so beautiful, marvelous and amazing. "The web would draw everyone, and my beloved ones too!!" Such a malicious thought... alas, one slip, and falls our hero; The morons came, for whom it had waited all its life, it smiled, But instead, they crushed it, and the old man died. {Written on the old people spending their life in old-age homes, abandoned by their beloved ones}

The sky is blue and the grass is green!

A feather floated awhile, and descended on my lap,

Sweet air of barley brushed my hair, plucking off my cap,

The wind grew stronger, and the tin roofs roared,

A cold current kissed my cheeks; in the blistering cold.

The wind struck at flags, rags and awestruck birds,

Birds that flocked together, flew in apathy, like nerds,

No sweet direction to calm, but a shelter called home,

The wind gushed harder into the orange orchards and bee combs.

A bamboo swings like pendulum, hither and thither,

The sole testimony to life, other than the fruits, pine and fir;

Water is freezing cold, dew is in the air,

Fog encircles the festivities bound to the villagers' share.

And thus through tough times, we live merrily like none,

Revelling at Christmas and New Year, with great fun,

Murky sky lurks the lights, but clouds are white as well,

As is the snow, and the clear soul, blonde is all to hell.

And although palm and feet and back are also white with cold,

The palms shiver, backs ache and fingers grow two-fold;

Yet, white is also wisdom beards, and white is honesty and truth,

White is wonderful, and yet white is not all that is good.

For lo, white symbolizes the end, that death that sweeps all once born,

Blistering cold takes such a toll on peoplewho know not of home;

So, farewell white and adieu to winter, for I love warm days still,

And once again, the skies are blue and the grass is green.

Strange Meeting

I died, and descended down the Walls of Profany, In black and blood, cut by beautiful granites and sharp rocks; Falling down the tunnel, a smile disdainfully flickering still, No better place to serve than Hell, I thought.   A thousand times lousy poets hath described the miseries of death, Lies, sly sleuths, sluggishly amused, but they have failed, Here was I to disapprove of what you dearly hold, In the middle of the night, in the graveyard, amidst the dead.   The night looked lovely, but the moon wore a wicked face, Crooning vaguely at the purple skies, bloody I may say; And then amidst such a spectacle, most unusual place to see, She walked in beauty like the night, my dear fiançee.   The torrents blew heavily and came thundering down with rain, I had thought that I would never be able to see her again, Such a romance in the afterdeath was a great bliss for sure, When heavy pounding of foosteps opened my eyes that she had been taken by the war.

Ode on a Grecian Urn

He pumped all sweat, blood and tears His heart and soul and will To fulfill one dream unfulfilled Wherewithal, unknown to all still What was that dream I ask of you Was that pride, beauty or ego Or sense or duty I have no clue Or just merry to put up the show Was it glory of victories undeceived Or the shadows of time Was it hope of reward yet unreceived Or a fire to light up the mime Was it name and fame that position brings Or just an extraordinary zeal unsurpassed Was it self satisfaction as he claims to be Or fear of dishonour at last What that dream was, I do not know May be just a spirit that has no name To redefine obsessive compulsion once The RooK will go beyond all pain...

@Hindi and Me

रौशनी की चमचमाहट और आंकरो के अंधे खेल अब यह शान-औ-शौकियों से मेरा कोई वास्ता नहीं मुझे मेरी माँ पुकारे, फैलाये ममता की लालिमा के तेज बन चूका साधू स्वदेशी, मोह दर्पणों के त्रुटियों से परहेज। राजनेताओं के रंजीशों को खूब झेल लिया अनेक संधी, समझौते देखे, मगर असर ख़ाक हुआ अब हमारी बारी है कुछ कर गुजरने की चाहे मौत भी आ जाये, खौफ्फ़ नहीं है मरने की। समय की चपेट में बंधे इतने दिन कैसे रहा! (आशचर्य होता है) जो जहां सर्वत्र लुटाती है, उसी का निर्वाह किया! काल की कार्यवाही में प्रष्न उठा है विचित्र यहाँ जो पर्यावरण जीवन देती है उसी का क़त्ल कैसे हुआ! मंदिर-मस्जिद और आतंकवाद के विवादों मे उलझी क्यों है सोच जब पृथ्वी पर छाया भारी संकट पर जरा भी नहीं संकोच जब जीवन-मृत्यु के चक्रव्यूह में फँसी है वैज्ञानिक ध्यान तोह कलयुग की तम में वन जीवन का कौन रखेगा मान! आम आदमी को रोटी दाल की महँगाई मार गई, वाणिज्य और विकास के चक्कर में यह धरती हार गई। कोयले की खान हो या रोड पर चल रही इंजन अब नहीं झेला जाता है यह कार्बोन उत्सर्जन। रौशनी की चमचमाहट या गरजते मेघ का आतंक औद्योगीकरण की शान-औ-शौकिया या गरबर मौसम का हरकंप रोड पर चलती गारीयाँ या मुंबई-कलकत्ता के खतरनाक बार विकल्प आप ही के हातों में हैं महाशय, सो आइये, करते है विचार।