Accepting “CHANGE”

Freeing myself from colours of modernity,

Where being blessed is to have monetary security.

I have lived a life so lavish 

But I still find peace on the bank of Ganges.

Where the mild wind plays with the chimes

I haven’t come across any better rhyme.

Where people find their niche in the faux air,

But return home with that routine despair.

“Throwback” to the days when “love” was not just a word.

It wasn’t said too much but was always enough! 

When fingers tasted whits and gobs of the paperbacks piled,

When travelling the world was wandering in the library aisle.

When finding someone unspoilt by conceit was not hard,

Subtle hints fostered fondness and fleshy lust was dismally regard.

Away from the tasty morsels of make believe, here  I am 

Absorbing the reality as much as I can.

Change is the spice of life they say!

I believe too, but not always.

Times when brothels echoed with sonorating anklets of devadasis,

Where now eunuchs rock to and fro till their orientation bleeds.

When people took dip in holy waters to free themselves from sins 

And now, drenched in elixir they openly sin! 

I have tasted transition; from morals to modernity,

And so I find solace in the sagacious company! 

Some accept change easily, while some are hurt,

But remember, flowers grow only through dirt! 


In the quest to live forever..

Golden waters kiss my bare feet when I stand on the last step on the bank of Bhagirathi,

Though scared of the depth, I find myself embosomed as I step deeper, I find myself so free.

The dip and chanting shlokas purifies the soul, a beginning of uniting me with thee…

I feel the urge to leave my body or is it my body that urges to leave me? 

I return on the bank the very evening with the lamps lit in pure ghee..

Offering those to the river so they reach the deceased souls, brightening up their journey to immortality.

I forget not, to put one lamp near the tatty hut, that has been there for centuries…

Where in the disgusted disguise, live my lord thee

I listen to the song offering that reaches even the dead ears, filling them with tranquility. 

Their paths are lighted and their journey made so easy. 

Death a mourning for the living and a celebration for the deceased. 

Such is thy love that pulls me to thee.

I walk towards where the pyres hiss and spit orange embers into the night so inky. 

And nothing more beautiful than that could ever be. 

Feel detached from the flesh and blood, it no longer soothes me….

The nightingale mourns the eyes that lick those well served lies about humanity, 

And I strip off the lies that skin me, to unite with thee. 

Burning on the bank, mixing with the sand, immersing in the Bhagirathi 

I have been dead for ages and now is the journey towards immortality. 

I have battled in hell and rested in heaven  I ponder how enchanting would our meeting place be. 

Reverend than the sun rays, warmer than the bonfire, brighter than the yellow roses and higher than the orgasmic heights, with thee I will lie in peace. 

Picture credits: Rajiv Srivastava

Changing clocks and clump of colours 

The month of March seems to be a long one, probably because the February just flew by! The mushy month went off bag and baggage and march came up with pressing issues, party results for instance. U.P. with the “saffron wave” the Congress comeback in Punjab and a Hung in Goa! So this year Holi is going to be welcomed with some happy while some sad faces. 

In India the “Holi wave” had already taken the reins of social networking in its hands, meanwhile in USA something equally significant is ready to roll. The daylight saving time in the United States. It begins at 2am local time on the second Sunday of march and the standard time returns in the first Sunday of November, at 2am. So the clocks would be pushed an hour ahead on the coming sunday there, that is March 12, 2017. 

What is it all about? 

Mornings darker so you finally follow the rhyme early to bed and early to rise.”

evenings lighter so one has a good amount of time to exercise outdoors. 

loosing an hour in bed, so the nocturnals realise how important it is to sleep on time. 

“Spring forward, fall back.” 

• Prioritising the time 

• cancelling insignificant plans, making good use of time. 

The reaction now… 

The reaction then… 

That’s human nature, crib about adjusting, adjust, crib again. 

So, tomorrow while the vicinity would be charged up with colours flying all over in india, USA would be flying ahead an hour. Is that their success mantra, I wonder! 

The DYING goddess and the ruining epitome of love

The picture presents a striking co-existence in India, the one driven by urbanisation while the other by the tradition. The Yamuna stands as a stagnant pool of filth between the two worlds, in the lap of which lord Krishna is believed to have played, according to the Indian mythology. On the one end is the muck and dirt which is a result of rapid urbanisation. The cow that is believed to contain various deities within her body, according to the Hindu mythology, here is seen feeding on the garbage and dross. 

On the other end stands the seventh wonder of the world, an epitome of love, the Taj Mahal that has witnessed generations of romance driven couples before it, now is surrounded by swarms of insects that are supercharged by the nutritious green algae blooming profusely along the banks of polluted Yamuna. Are we waiting for the most beloved monument to turn into the most visited “RUIN” for the tourists in the coming years? 

But I strongly feel, the determination of accomplishing something noble isn’t too difficult to be bridged. 

✨Picture credits : Rajiv Srivastava ✨ srivastava

A compromise

Those two pink stripes were all she wanted

Though it hadn’t been long that they’d both been wanting

Not a year had passed that they’d been married

But there was something beneath her heart that she carried

Not a male breast she yearned for 

Just two pink stripes was all she strived for

They made love in bits 

 was it really love? Even a little bit? 

They were distanced in miles and in love 

They just couldn’t not kindle that verve

Then the day arrived

When she was all smiles

As happy as a lark 

Emerging from the dark 

The faint stripes magically emerged 

She was abashed with the hormonal upsurge.

Though they had together taken the seven vows 

But her man was the last to know

She could have let bygones be bygones 

But she was Oh! so withdrawn 

Was it a protection for that little one so robust?

Or just oodles of mistrust

It takes two to tango 
A “me” and a “you” 

She was failing yet holding on

He was drowning yet going on

A child is a tie that binds 

Or maybe makes bearable that “compromise”

From the heart’s core!

Put your guns on my shoulders 

If not your head.

Keep me at the border 

Than assuming me dead.

Blow those kisses ever so colder

Than breaking that binding thread.

If can’t warm the cockles of my heart, now so not bolder

Hack it in pieces or burn it red.

Chasing rainbows no doubt is harder,

But, I would chase you white hot till the end.

Nothing I confess could make him love me less! 

I whacked the bricks he aligned,

And blew the castle out, he made with those cards.

I strived to break the ties and get them untwined,

But he strived to ease those seemingly difficult boulevards.

I hacked his heart that he wore on his sleeve; he still seemed fine,

Putting up with me, he didn’t found hard.

Neither was I his and he mine,

He was the one, whom I gave durable scars.

He knew we weren’t destined,

But he left his heart ajar.

Hoping I would at last entwine,

If not in his arms but somehow with his heart. 

Cuz all that I am is all that he’ll ever need,

I know he’d love me now, then and till the last! 

Holding his hand I couldn’t decide,

 Can the sun and the moon ever collide?