To Oxford that I shall never see

I dreamt,
and it was madness.
The dream started young,
a dream so beautiful,
full of literature and poetry,
of Thames I dreamt sitting by Wang chhu,
I couldn't share the dream,
for everyone thought it was madness,
and madness it was,
and this madness drove my thoughts,
thousands of miles,
it perhaps met Shakespeare's soul there, or Elliot's,
it is still a dream,
and the madness is wearing out,
of people I have begged,
and people do sound sympathetic but its my dream,
they wouldn't care,
and never have I wanted the evil money so much,
never, never before,
nor do I crave for more,
for I know all this is for the plants I grew up with,
they talk to me,
I can feel them and it hurts to see them deplete and burn,
logs and logs burn,
and my heart burns with it,
this is madness I know,
like that 10,300 km on the road was not enough,
the fourty days in the car,
madness is wearing out,
I am growing older,
But I still do not understand the world,
am sure none do, but all pretend to,
of death I wait,
I am not even scared
and hopefully
it will be a mad death.
Amen!

Faces of Trees

It is a desire of every human heart to live till, and experience old age. Trees are no different; they too have life and they too would like to experience the bliss of longevity.“Man-kind” has made this world his kind only; giving little importance to nature and environment which actually supports this world. Deforestation of tress, careless forest fires, logging and other human activities are inhumane to the nature cosmos and this greatly hinders the life span of a tree.

This estranging photograph of a tree found in the Eastern Ghats of India, clearly exemplifies the tree as not only a breathing being but by giving human features to itself, it makes us realize that trees are also “living, feeling” beings. It presents us the face of a tree, the body of an old woman bent with age and yet treading the path of life. This tree is a metaphor for nature, old age and our savage behaviour which has prompted nature to show its face, attracting us and yet estranging us, thereby making us realize its place in this world. There are also lessons to be learnt by us homosapiens; it shows how the young protect the old as seen here in the protection of the old tree by youthful neighbouring twigs and branches. The zest to live life till its last breath is seen in the weathering of the bark, but the tree’s enthusiasm is not dead yet, for the colour on its body is very much vibrant and full of life. This picture does not portray a scenic, conventional beauty of nature but instead this picture is to remind us of the law of individual differences that exists among trees. At the same time how their vigour to live life is similar to ours and how we should not take away their life and let them live, and perhaps in their old age we will see faces of trees like in this one.

As a photographer, what caught my eye was how bewitchingly beautiful the tree was and in my journey from the Himalayas to the jungles of south India, this is one tree that made me realize, trees not only have life but they have an identity too, which often goes unnoticed by an unfeeling being, the so called and proclaimed mammal of higher intelligence, the humans. Humans die, but nature is perpetual, alas,we can no longer say so for we are killing our environment every passing moment and this tree’s howl is one such testimony.

Futurity

She sits there,

her arms wrapped tightly over her knees,

her body at complete ease,

her skin glows a beauteous hue,

the sun amplifying it further,

she feels pulchritudinous.

Then she wonders;

the skin that glows will someday wrinkle,

the face that she sees in the mirror, will disfigure,

in front of her eyes,

the alcohol and the cigarettes, slowing consuming her body,

and her brain, deteriorating, dysfunctioning, and then

what will remain?

The soul that one has never seen,

The body which will go back to the earth,

The mind that dies with the body,

And yet the cycle continues,

the unknown cycle,

and this future is not her alone,

It is for all of us.

Ode to the Mountains

You stand majestically,

clad in green,

barren at some,

at times adorned with white,

purity is your essence.

you never stoop,

never stumble,,

you are born to stand majestically, till eternity.

Seasons come and seasons go,

autumn paints yellow all over,

and winter comes,

snow and you,

earth and heaven,

white and mud red,

the white sinks in you,

makes your red richer,

and when spring sets,

you are greener than never before.

But still you stand,

never budging,

never complaining,

your patience is a virtue-

humans will never learn,

your elegance- no woman can ever compare,

you are THE MOUNTAIN,

the land raised high above,

so high that you divide the earth and the sky,

and yet so low,

that without you,

there is no Home

DUSTBIN

No one hails you,

no one's written poetry about you,

no one loves you,

for you are a trashbag- a dustbin.

But i admire you,

you take in everything,

good or bad,

delicious or rotten,

broken or not,

you take in everything.

But I admire you,

there are lessons you teach,

the humble lesson of acceptance.

You accept what it really is,

you never complain,

you never cry,

you never get angry for what people throw at you,

and after all that endurance,

they still call you a DUSTBIN.

You arn't simply a bin,

you are a collector,

a healer,

you are a teacher,

you are everything but a DUSTBIN.

Death Penalty

Death penalty is a subject much talked about and debated around the world. This topic had never died but the waves hit the shores of discussion again, especially after the sentence and execution Saddam Hussain. The topic is open to peoples views but taking a stand "to" or "for" does not suffice the humanitarian world, for the views become extremely idealistic. Me thinks, a little of both the stand can create a 'middlepath' on the same subject.

"The birth of life," itself is a mystery; believers of fate and karma call it divine gift and worshipers of science - the multiplication of cells due to the environment led to the evolution of organisms and later the humans.

Death is an end; we do not know whether it is just an end to this life or the beginning of another, whatever be it, a section of the masses believe that " no one has the right to take someones" life. If you do not have the power to create life then you do not have the power to destroy it either- be it the worst of criminals. In every heart beats emotions. They could be good or bad; it is very relative to the environment, in most cases the external factors makes you the person you are. A criminal is never born a criminal;he is born a baby, a child who has no thoughts on in his head, no sense in his brain and no gun in his hand. All these are presents given by the very world to the "criminal." My point is- if a criminal is born a human, the he/she can definitely be reformed, be humanized. They too can join the mainstream.

Perhaps the above argument looks good on paper but fear still lives in the hearts of people, fear of the criminal who must have heartlessly killed uncountable number of humans. Today there are "professional" murderers. Once caught, who would want these creatures back in their world, so the only way for them is to the gallows. Maybe these gallows are their ways to the next world-if any.

I cannot see a human getting hurt; if I was amongst the judges, I wouldn't pass a death sentence- whatever be the reason. Perhaps a middleway can be achieved. Life imprisonment of these penalty holders- maybe they should not be allowed to interact with the mainstream but leave them as tributaries. Let them atleast live till they want or till they can in their four walled prison. Some vocation could help them earn their bread and butter, inside such prisons and give them a chance of redemption. Death penalty could be an option of the person sentenced and not the black cloaked judge who has only read the big books of law- laws made by humans which are so inhumane sometimes.

Life is a gift- call it God's or science's but it is a gift. everyone has the right in this world- the world is big enough for all of us and even the criminals can fit here, or maybe there, in their four walled prison.

MOON RISE AND SUN SETS

The moon is up,

the sun in bed,

both, half their work done,

and soon, in a while they will trade places,

and here I am, unable to sleep.

And many a days I have spent,

witnessing this day and night,

so monotonous, the transition goes unnoticed now.

And later, will I ever yearn for many more moon rises

and sun sets,

will I want more "monotony''- when the lid is about to cover,

MY COFFIN

Fish

I am a fish in the ocean,

submerged deep in the ocean of desire,

I try to swim,

I struggle,

my fins are fine,

my body in total shine,

why can't I swim?

It holds me,

so tight

it hurts,

time is passing

the clock is ticking

Its dragging me into the abyss,

But how do I free myself?

Beauty

With every passing moment,

beauty detoriates,

beauty ages,

it can peak,

or pause,

or even stop being beauty,

but praise of beauty,

shall always remain,

embedded in hearts,

in minds,

in lovers,

in friends,

in families,

in strangers,

in nature,

in poetry,

beauty never remains beauty,

for beauty is 'that moment'

and even the moment has to pass,

and so beauty perishes,

leaving tarnishes in hearts, soul and mind,

Goodbye beauty.....

can such a thing ever happen?

I am stranger at Home

They say they love us,
but they lie.
They say they love us,
but they only need us.

They have taken my childhood away,
but I can only weep.
They have taken my roots away,
but I am just a branch,
and what good is the branch without the root?

My tears have now dried,
My fate has now diminished,
My heart still hopes
for a heart never stopped hoping.

There will come a day,
when the sun will shine,
and I it will smile.
There will come a day,
when I will be no longer a stranger
in my Own Home.

Sleep

Come take me,
take me to your land.

I am ready-
neatly tucked in bed,
ready for the flight,
ready to embrace you.

I love being with you,
Lying assured in your arms,
devoid of worldly matters,
of pain and hunger.
You caressing me gently,
telling me that "this" worlds beautiful.

The world of dreams;
the world where I can make and
break
but everything is fake
and what is "fake"?
and what is "real"?


I love you both equally;
"day" and "night".
If i see the sun during the day
mother moon awaits to escort me
to my dreams....
and so I shall sleep now.....
Its 2.58 in the morn..got a nine o clock lec......oh shit...saturdayz.....
argggggg

Truth

Like beauty lies in
the eyes of the beholder,
Truth lies in the heart
of the speaker.
What truth means to me,
May not mean to you,
What it holds for me,
May not hold for you,
But truth to me is like
Beauty - it changes every
moment.
What seemed truthful
Yesterday
Is surrounded with fakeness today.
But for that moment yesterday
“ I was truthful”
Truth is nothing but
PERCEPTION