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Showing posts with label english. Show all posts
Showing posts with label english. Show all posts

Friday, 6 May 2016

Stealth


Don’t say anything
And just listen
To rustling summer leaves  
Or Ravi Shankar’s sitar
Or lub dub of a lusty heart

Don’t say anything
And just behold
A mellow sunset
Or a Van Gogh
Or limpid pools of eyes

Don’t say anything
And just inhale
First rain on dry earth
Or a Marques de Riscal
Or a warm carnal breath

Don’t say anything 
And just relish
A cool spring draught
Or an intense Keats
Or a quivering eager lip

But please don’t say anything
..words pollute!


PS: In this poem I have used four external stimuli (senses) and three objects (nature/art/physical) to be repeated under each for a resonating effect. Wanted to include the fifth too but then decided against it to avert fleshiness…

                          Linked to: Poets United

Wednesday, 27 April 2016

Candor


Sultry stars taste like
Salty marshmallows
Nincompoop narcissus snails
Dive into lustrous mirage
Cerebral pachyderms thump
Their way into the mud
But pug-marks of golden felines
Are trailed
Heady whiff of Cashew groves
On the warm sea shore
Dries my hair.
Who strums my guitar ?

                                                          Linked to: Poets United



Wednesday, 23 March 2016

Climate

Image from Google

Loves the weather
Bougainvillea
Bears with climate!

Linked to: Poets United



Disclaimer: This is not a haiku

Thursday, 17 March 2016

St. Pine




Tresses  flowy,  swaying   beard,    
In meditation
perched on a cemetery, saintly Pine
centenarian!

                          
                                                                              Linked to: Poets United


Wednesday, 6 January 2016

Between the Sheets


We both vulnerable
To each other
Not a stitch in defense
And who needs it?

I explore.. you elude
you oblige.. I cajole
I seek you grant
And then play pricey

Intertwined in each other
The whole night
My poem and me
Between the sheets of paper!

Linked to: Poets United





Thursday, 24 December 2015

A DAY..


Young chirpy dawn’s
Untutored virgin rays
Sidled through threshold
And vanished soon
As their master strong
Went oblong

Day grew through
Some cold nibbles
And tasteless brew
A tempest of thoughts
Groped for an idea
As if a microseism lost
In a pile of papers

Mellow dusk blushed
Hidden behind curtains
Unnoticed..


Note: This poem was published in the literary journal Muse India




Friday, 18 December 2015

‘The Nomad Learns Morality’ : A crossroads of emotions and intellect..

 

In the current times when pulp fiction is in vogue “The Nomad Learns Morality” comes as a whiff of fresh air - invigorating and relaxing at the same time. The learned author, Mr. Tomichan Matheikal, leaves the readers of his work awed by his absolutely new outlook of the stories we all know since childhood..the anecdotes in Hindu and Christian scriptures and classical legends about great warriors, heroes and Royalty, philosophers, scientists and holy men in about first half of this book. 

Mr. Matheikal’s approach to the subject is remarkably rational and unbiased. He reaches in those obscure corners of the psyche of his characters where a conventional reader of scriptures would not dare to tread. In spite of his revolutionary foresight his treatment of the characters and the portrayal of their depth is so vividly wonderful that you would not feel hurt even if you don’t agree with his viewpoint.

In most of the places the final outcome is barely suggestive, in others it has been left to you to decide and in still others you wish you could have more to be able to reach a conclusion. This, I guess, is due to his mellowness of consideration of others’ opinions, for he from his side hasn’t left a loose end which might have confused the reader. When he throws light on an incident or a protagonist with the radicals which all may not find agreeable his manner is mild to the extent of becoming delicate!

These stories in their new avatar will definitely leave you aghast by their ingrained logic and common sense which we have rather been blind to see, leave alone appreciate till now. The twist at the end will stun you in many. The process of understanding will depend on a reader’s individual mental and psychological development..some may agree, some may not, and some might not build an opinion at all. There will also be quite a good number, like me, who will fall head over heels in love with them, mesmerized by the charm of the writer’s approach and his manner. Since most of us have a deep rooted conditioning about matters pertaining to ‘religion’(?) I would suggest that you read the stories as mature adults, objectively, impartially and unbiased. These are best read when we are open to receive. You will deprive yourself of the excitement and delight these stories lead you to, if you try to interpret them with rigid mindsets..so open up and let the elixir of enlightenment 
and bliss bathe you!

I’d rather have the conservatives read the book too to broaden up their horizons, and to at least have a different taste of the otherwise dull and routine. Agreement with the author, a sagacious philosopher, is not necessary but enrichment of ideas is. The stories not only provoke you to think afresh but also are a constant supply of fulfilling nourishment.

Although it has not been made into a separate section, but in about  second half of the book we meet commonplace people, girls and boys next door. The particular incidents in their lives narrated in the stories will amaze you with their simplicity and profundity of emotions woven together seamlessly. The author mocks, jeers and even ridicules the characters at places but the mellowness of his expression leaves no allowance for any controversies whatsoever. Here again his insight into the depth of their hearts and minds is wonderfully remarkable.

Brevity is the essence of this awesome work. The language is crisp ant curt. The extraneous details have been done away with and the reader cannot find an excuse to take a breath while reading, their deep interest is maintained throughout. I can imagine what a mammoth task the writer must have gone through editing and re-editing his own drafts. I read almost each story three times: the first reading to delight, the second to savour and the third to reach ecstasy.

I have resisted the temptation of quoting from the book and deliberately so, in the interest of the readers..or the real beauty of those words would have been marred without their context perhaps, that is why.  Mr. Matheikal’s observations and suggestions are solitaires of wisdom best fitted in their gold encasements.

Available with: OnlineGatha

Wednesday, 10 July 2013

दुआ

हे मेरे भगवान् 
कैसा किया इस साल 
तुमने ये काम...

हमें तो मार डाला गर्मी में 
और पहाड़ों पर 
मचाया कोहराम

बारिश आती नहीं,
दुआ भी की जाती नहीं 

डर लगता है 
कि जो बूँदें 
मुझे जिलायेंगी 
उन्हें कितना और सतायेंगी 
जो रहते हैं 
मुझसे कुछ मोड़ दूर 
उन ख़ूबसूरत पहाड़ों पर 

जाने दो 
मैं सह लूँगा गर्मी का दर्द 
पर वहाँ मत करना और उपद्रव !

Translation:
Oh my God
what kind of benevolence
this year You showed!

We are dying in
heat sweltering
and Your game
in mountains is devastating...

Rain it doesn’t
and even pray I can’t (for it)

Afraid that the drops
cool me which
will give them despair
who live just a few turns away
in those beautiful mountains 

Forget it hence
scorching heat shall I bear
but kindly
no more destruction there!

Monday, 8 October 2012

कभी ख़ुशी कभी ग़म...


उनके   मिलने  की
ख़ुशी   मुझे    कम 
ज़्यादा है शायद ग़म,
इन्तेज़ार   में  मीठा
सा    एक     दर्द
और     बड़ा    ही   
हसीं   था    भरम!

Refuge deceitful...

Is it bliss or misery
post our rendezvous..
Perhaps the aching wait
promising a rapture celestial
was dearer to live on
as a refuge!

Sunday, 30 September 2012

Thirsty...


Me a thirsty shell
longing for a drop divine.
The matter merely:
not a sea bottom,
buried was I
under sand dunes dry!



प्यासा...

मैं इक प्यासा सीप
तरसा किया हमेशा
इक बूँद ख़ास को.
फ़र्क़ फ़क़त इतना कि
तलहटी समन्दर नहीं,
दफ़्न था मैं
ख़ुश्क रेगिस्तान में!

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Wellbeing...


Friends avoid asking about
my wellbeing these days
is it pain reflecting on my face
or are they afraid I might
tell the truth as well?

हाल...

हाल अब मेरा पूछने से 
कतराने लगे हैं लोग..
दर्द या तो झलकने लगा है चेहरे पे
या सच ही न बता दूँ कहीं
ये सोच के घबराने लगे हैं दोस्त!

Sunday, 23 September 2012

Incomplete...


My nomadic soul
drifts about restless,
without head
my body
seethes on a pyre,
in smoke
of damp wood.

अधूरा...

रूह     मेरी        आवारा 
और    बदन  बे-सर  है,
चिता बरसाती लकड़ी की
बस  धुआँ-धुआँ  भर  है!