Frail Old Aunt

There she was
walking
a tiny step
after another
gingerly balancing
on uneven surface
invisible footpath
amidst rushing
unseeing traffic.

She walked
tired
dragging
her frail old body
through yet
another day.

I saw her
that day
as I rushed
through my day
sped past her
without a second look.

A momentary flash
Maybe
Just maybe
today can be different
What will it take
just a moment longer
to give her a ride
ease her burden
for what are
a few precious moments
in my scurrying life.

The thought vanished
as fast as it arrived
and I continued
speeding
to aimless
destination
in pursuit
of a youthful dream,
burying my voice
deep in my busy ness.

A few months
later
as I sped
again
the familiar road
of uneven surface
invisible footpath
amidst rushing
unseeing traffic
She was missing
and so was her
frail old body,
never to be
seen again.

A pang of guilt
crossed my heart
as I sped past
yet another day
to an aimless destination
in pursuit
of a youthful dream
that could not stop
a moment longer
in service of
a frail old aunt. 

It's Time Now

It is but the human condition
To ignore the impending doom
For life to go on as usual

As I walk my streets
In the predawn breeze
I see not the beauteous universe
Just human discard
Thrown with scant disregard

Drunk in our own ego
For we are the owners of the earth
And everything it means
It belongs to only me
For me to treat it as I please

Ah! The Ego of the human condition
Believing it to be lords

Scurries away this scant ego
On the first sign of danger
For so frail is our ego
To be scared of its own folly

Maybe the virus is the antidote
To the human virus
Whipping it out
For its time has come

Your time has come
We will reclaim the earth
From the scum
Of human waste
Roar the silent trees
As they stake claim

To God's Earth

Ruffled Hair

Ruffled hair
unkempt shirt
holed shorts
sockless and
unlaced shoes
He walked
to school
looking down
staying invisible
Furtive glances
playing hide and seek
through piercing eyes
he makes his way
to his
daily torture.

A moment
longer
he awaits
becoming steely
sighing with
resignation
he enters
the rusted gate.

Whispers
become
full blown
laughter
as crowds
circle his
small frame.

Poking sticks
and furling stones
greet him
to this
temple of learning

Not one
touching him
disgusted as they are
by his unkempt being
and smelly
unbathed body
Holding noses
with
disgruntled noises
poke they do
and run as fast.

The brave ones
kicking him
around.
Quietly, he endures
It's momentary
right?
Not knowing
the trauma
has made
home
deep in his
body
for a
lifetime to come.

An invisible
corner
in a dingy room
he seeks
at best
hoping.

In he walks,
purposeful
Cane in tow
with
starched white
and pleated blacks
Shoes as
clean as new
and hair
gelled
nicely
into place.

Scans he
with disdain
his proteges
who await
in fearful silence
for their inevitable
turn.

Its always him,
sharp eyes
make the silhouette
of his
hidden frame
a glee
shone in his eyes.

Ram he roars!
sending shivers
down the
entire herd
his voice
booming
the cane plush
ready to fulfil
its master's bidding.

Not again,
groans Ram
Why do I
even try,
he walks
dragging his
unkempt being.

A swish
cuts through 

the still air
splitting skin 

in abused palms
Yet
another day
in paradise.

Feeling
exceptionally
generous
he demands
for parted cheeks
in between naked legs
Another swish
cuts the pregnant
air
tearing through
dark pink skin
in gleeful joy.

Ram holds
willing
himself,
'not for him
a single tear.'
Again and again
the master goes,
splitting cheeks
to expose bone
and broken spirit.

A silent tear
the class bully
too drops
as he
watches
this dance
of terror.

a gloomy day 
ensues
in dingy corridors
of broken walls
wailing
the loss of childhood
for yet 

another day.

Not one
ruffles his
hair
no more
staying away
from his smelly
unkempt being,
bloodied body
and
broken spirit.

Never again,
he promises
as he takes
his last step
out of the
hallowed
gates
of this
temple of ruin.

Years later,
as he brutalizes
his nth victim,
with swishes
of bloodied cane
robbed
years ago
from a soulless
master.

Long forgotten
his own
body scars
for they
have seeped
deep in his soul
showing him
the ways of
world
and
he in it.

His hair
stays ruffled
stays
forever ruffled!

A Walk Home

Clear blue skies
sneaking in through
a canopy of gulmohurs
summer temperatures
cooling in twilight
seemed like a walk
I would remember

A man lay
motionless
in muck and water
dead or drunk
I wish not enquire
passed him by
not wanting to
break my reverie
of a pleasant walk home

Paused

a moment longer

what if

pushed the thought away

walking

A man

relieving himself
further ahead
Darkening a wall
well abused before
flashing his member
in nonchalant entitlement

A man spat
on a tree trunk
owning it
not noticing
the Giant cringe
in hapless subdue

Revelers ahead
snacking with abandon
against uncollected
garbage from days bygone
feeding flies
in service
of furthering their species
helping its mission

a flowing drain

A pup ahead
ah! some relief
in his playful swagger
hungry he seemed
rummaging!
pity I took
needing to uplift
my waning mood
biscuits would do the trick
a kick he got
from a passing man
scurried the mongrel
into a drain petrified

leaving the biscuits untouched

Sigh! for wanting
a happy ending

A carcass ahead
Burnt to the bone

unrecognisable its species
An old mongrel
gnawing at it
with ferocious hunger

Keeping some biscuits near
I hurried away
Not wanting to plant
the image of man's
indignity to another species

Looked up
in search of stratocumulus
beyond the gulmohurs
only enveloping darkness
engulfing my being
in silent triumph

A walk home
in sullen silence
was all that I managed

Wish I Was A God No More

Yet another year
I am decorated
and celebrated

They make
more of me
and bigger too
more money, I guess
to show their faith

They don't like me
anymore
for who I am

They make me
more human-like now
a Army man,
a policeman
a politician
a cricketer
a movie star
a cartoon character too

Adding more colours
and more grandeur
It resembles me
yet it does not

Have they lost the plot
or am I too old
to understand
I know not

Everyday
flowers
crackers
loud music
and dancing
leaving
a decaying
destruction
in its fray
to be cleaned
by the untouchables

And in time,
its time to say goodbye
with much fanfare and noise
they see me off
Visarjan they call it
dumping me
in the big wide ocean

There are thousands more
every year
me and me and me
choking the waters
and its peaceful inhabitants

When all is done
and dusted
left alone
and abandoned

Awaiting as I dissolve
in ever delaying plaster
a million fish and more
die a silent death
in service of humankind
whose all but abandoned them

What use am I
a god for none
there to feed
an ever rising ego
and kill
those silent beings
that I lovingly
brought into a
nurturing world
long lost its way
to greed and pomp

Wish I wasn't
a god no more
wiped from memory
of a humankind
so blinded with me
that they fail to see
the destruction they bring
to my most beautiful creation

I sigh
and wait
yet another occasion!

Prompted to write when I saw this terrifying video - https://www.facebook.com/indiatimes/videos/2222166398014603/

I Am My Relations

I am my relations

I come from
My burdens
My obligations
My responsibilities
And identities
That cage me

I come from
My desires
My needs
My aspirations
And incompletions
That fail me

I come from
My connections
And disconnections too

I come from
In me
Within me
Out me
And Other me

I come
From
The womb
The blood
And the soul
That embody me

I come from
The name
Of the family
And the caste
That birthed me

I come from
My neighbourhood
The smells and sights
The senses and noises
That shaped me

I come from
My work
My titles
My power
And the seats
That feed my ego

I come from
The streets of my childhood
The memories of my past
The food that I feed
And the body that I call mine

I come from
The grass
The flowers
And thorns
That nurture me

I, we, us
Aren't we one
Us, we, I
We are one

In oneness,
I am enough

Dilip The King

Quiet were his steps
Invisible almost

Colour to paper
is all he desired

Gasped with joy
when he found
sketches, crayons, paints
laid out in invitation
beckoning him
to flare his imagination

Silently he began
every waking hour
A palace he imagined
Bringing it alive
hue by hue

Not a word he spoke
all of day one
disappearing
in breaks
to his still world
filled with colour

Day two we noticed
when meals he missed
consumed as he was
by his art

Feverish in his endeavour
adding layers of depth
to his thriving imagination

He brought it to life
colour by colour
blacks, reds and blues
in stressed richness
adding dimensions
in mysterious ways

Not a word he spoke
amongst forty others
A craftsman he was
still in his art

As colours emerged
so did he

We saw the shift
certain and real

from flirtive eyes
to steadfast gaze

from fidgety hands
to firm strokes

from drooped shoulders
to arched back

from established frowns
to almost smiles

As his art came alive
He came alive

Feverish in his pace
He slept little
as day three dawned

He knew
his time had come

Quietly he walked
Still, he gazed
as forty pairs
watched
with bated breath

'Art I love
day and night
yet, colours
not have I
at home or school

Colours I see
colours I seek
all around me
even in the drab
of my spaces

To heaven
you brought me
and let me be

You saw me
even as I am
hidden from me

Accept my frailties
with grace you did
and here I am
with grace
I say
Thank You'

and with that
he unfurled
a fantasy palace
brought alive
from deep
in his being
befriended with colours
that danced on paper
under his able command

In that moment,
his eyes shone bright
having found their light
from within his heart
steadfast and sure
they made home
to shine bright
for ever more
Never ever
to be shut again

A journey
just begun
for in art
Dilip (the king)
had found
himself
only himself
truly himself

Note: This is the story of 14-year old Dilip who attended a 4-day outdoor experiential camp by Dream a Dream and where he discovered his inner strength through art