Forever

Forever is a strange faraway land

Where eternity dwells

The word itself

Hides a promise, an irony

As well as a dread

People want to 

Live forever

Stay together

Forever

And those who die

Are gone forever

Forevers are the promises

That we never keep

Forever is a sand

That slips through our hands

Yet we cling to it

Just like we cling

To life itself

We wish for forever

Peace, happiness, health and wealth

None of which ever lasts ever

Forever is the best illusion

Created by humans

Just like Gods

Even sun and stars

Don’t last forever

Forever is a greatest irony

While we want to hold it

We don’t desire

Forever grief

Forever wars

Forever poverty

Forever inequality

Forever is the best false promise

We make to ourselves

In a transient world

Where nothing lasts forever

The best moments and joys

Are often short lived

Beauty lies in their brevity

Think of those flowers

Or our lives of our pets

While chasing forevers

We forget to live

Those precious moments

Which perhaps make our forevers

Our memories too

Don’t last forever

With time they fade

Grief and pain often

Linger and last longer

Sometimes forever

Inevitably Inevitable

Neither birth is our choice

Nor is the death

They are all accidents

Intentional or Unintentional

Serendipitous it is

Two brothers losing life together

In a car, perhaps they loved

Driving towards a destination

They never reached

A mother died while making

Her final cuppa of tea

Which perhaps she

Never got a chance to sip

A father too died years ago

While waiting for his evening tea

Which he too never got a chance to sip

It all happens in a fraction of a second

That’s all it takes to breathe in first time

Or to exhale for the last time

I hear a piercing wail of a new born

Perhaps still missing

The safe cuccoon of the womb

I hear the lament of an adult

Watching his mother’s hearse

And then we get the news of passing

Of young footballers who faced odds

But with talent that got recognised

They could afford a Lamborghini

Whose tires unfortunately gave up

Just like both the engines

Of that ill fated aircraft

Which crashed not too long ago

On the roof of a medical college

Whose students deaths

Never got counted

Just like the deaths of innocents

Which have fatigued and numbed the world

Does million have an extra zero?

We no longer count

The unaccountables

We know and accept

Death as fate

Inevitably Inevitable

It all depends on the moment (and nation)

Where you are born

Or destined to be

Or the place you are going to

Or where you are coming from

I see the news of a white student passing

In a white rich country

While looking for that dear Asian kid

Who died while trying to beat

The unprecedented heat

A river waves took him away

Then they tell me of passing

Of someone whose lungs gave away

Who chose cigarettes over his odds

We all are the risk takers

Our births are risks

Life is a risk

And so is our fight for it

And against it

Without choice we are here

Living, breathing it all in

The foul rotting smell

Fills our nostrils

Along with wafts of fresh fragrances

Of the new bloom

That’s how it is perhaps

Inevitably Inevitable

Both Life and death

A fraction of a second

A breath separating the two

A fraction of a second

It takes for the bombs to explode

Or a sniper to shoot

Those ill-fated hungry children

Who didn’t choose to be born

On that ill-fated land

Whose fate was decided

In the name of the imagined god

Gods who are yet to prove their existence

Do show up for these births and deaths

Between blessing little ones

In the name of God

And absolving the dead of their sins

The priests of the land thrive

While labs toil away

For that perfect elixir

To save us from ageing

And dying

An actress too died

While trying to be

Young and relevant

In a show business

How bizzare it is

How inevitably Inevitable

It all seems to be

Living ones getting on with it .

Winging it with AI, drones,

Botox and meditation

Adding new iterations

All in a circle

Of life and death

I stare at my nearly dead plant

Hit by the morning newspaper missile

Symbolic isn’t it?

The newspaper that carries

The news of death, wars and funerals

Nearly killed my plant

Inevitably Inevitable

Accident it is all…

We still cannot fully comprehend

That one grand design accident – Big bang

And then how down the line

Intelligently stupid

Life evolved

On this blue planet in the universe

A life that tries to comprehend itself

And has also turned upon itself

In a suicidal self sabotage

Inevitably Inevitable?

The rigged game goes on

So does poetry…

Ownership

We don’t own anything

Not even these words

Which are borrowed

From a language

Thoughts may be ours

But not entirely

They are formed by

All that we read and experience

In a dynamic shape shifting world

How can we own anything?

Our body cells start to shed

The moment we are born

Our ions and electrolytes

Are forever incomplete

Seeking bonds

Nothing is ever static and whole

Blood flow forms rivulets

All through the body

Do I own these cells, ions and atoms?

All formed from the star dust

Including the sun, our planet

How can we own anything at all?

We are just a blip, a heartbeat

In the grandeur of cosmos and

Timeline of universe

Yet in vain we try to possess and own

That piece of land, this piece of resource

People in our lives and their free minds

What for?

For that momentary

Lust for power and glory?

We play with lives 

Lives of others

While squandering our own

Nothing ever dies

It changes forms

We just own our made up 

Truths and lies

Our actions too are borrowed

From the history playbooks

We lack courage to love

So we choose deceit

Ilusion and grandeur

Happy in our bubbles

We float in an embryonic state

Feeding off the lives

Which we think we own

While we own nothing

Earth belongs to itself

It doesn’t give a damn

About our petty lives

Our politics and lies

The more we plunder

More it will make us pay

Just like any other landlord

Photo courtesy: Anuran – Researcher and photographer based in Paris

Cyclonic Storms

Winds are raging
Cyclonic winds
I hear glass panes shatter
All kinds of sounds
Brought in by the winds

A cyclonic storm
Gathered over days
Inched closer and closer
Then came the landfall, high tide
And the high speed winds

Aftermath is still unknown
We can only hear the sounds
Morning light will reveal
The destruction over the night
When the cyclone struck

It’s a tale of two cursed lands
Year after year
We pray to be spared
Without realising if not us,
It’s gonna be them

27th May 2024

What Ifs…


If there were life elsewhere
With a different Time flow
A day lived in a second perhaps
A year going by in 365 seconds

Shortlived precious life
Much to be done in milliseconds
Much to behold in minutes
Years going by sooner, wilting us

But what if instead
A day was stretched to a month
A year going on and on 
Long lived, Turtle life

Maybe wars would have
Ended sooner
If time went by faster than
The weapons could be made

But if the Time slowed down
We would be lingering away
Too tired of long drawn wars
Exhausting all natural resources

Maybe everyone dead
And civilization was born again
And again, either way
Messing it up in newer ways 

That’s the trick with time
It keeps us wondering
What if…what if
Unhappy, seeking, lost

We avoid What is…
The finiteness of our being
In the infiniteness of time
We delude ourselves
With immortality of soul

We choose What Ifs
Over What Is
Ignoring the beauty and love
The momentary transience

We trade it all 
With Dante’s inferno
Imagination, intellect, beauty and love
Reduced to insatiable lust
For hate, anger, desire and power

The Bell


For Whom will the bell toll?
In fond remembrance
Of ones we lost?
Or for us who lived?

The bells can no longer
Keep the count perhaps
The bell no longer tolls

Where are the Hemingways and Orwells?
The ones who toiled
In armies and in kitchen
To write about how it felt
To hear those bells

For whom will the bell toll now?
And how long?
Wars are unending
Ceasefires rarely cease fire

The bells can no longer
Keep the count
Of who is on which side
Who is the winner or loser?

And whom should it toll for?
The ones who lost yet won
Or ones who won yet lost
The bell no longer tolls

There are mourners
But no graves
There are lovers
But no love

For whom will the bell toll?
For you and me
Or for the one who went away
And who can no longer hear

Time has set itself free
It doesn’t count anymore
How can it possibly measure?
What we no longer value

6/3/25
Bangalore

A Place Called Home

For some it’s a place to return to

For some it is a place to escape from

For some it is a place they cannot return

And for some it is a place they cannot escape

A Place Called Home

That illusive space in time

Where we think we belong

The place to fight for

Or die for

A Place where we wake up

And go to sleep

A space where we thrive

It becomes an identity

Pride and asset

A place called Home

Yet it doesn’t take much

To tear it down

The home of your childhood

Or to lose it to the occupiers

Who too think it is theirs

A Place Called Home

Wars are fought and lost

A lifetime is spent as refugee

What remains is in our memories

And in imagination that illusive space

A Place called Home

Where I am me

Unapologetic me

A place where we can be

Let alone in peace

To go on with our daily drudgery

Watch our flowers bloom

While I looked for it

A place called Home

I didn’t realise

I was home within me 

On this planet 

Which is our home

We often fail to protect 

While fighting to save our idea 

Of a place called Home 

Kaleidoscope

Escaping with little
Leaving home behind
A refugee in the world
Only a sky and courage to behold

Empty mansions
Tired caretakers
Only wealth to behold
A hostage to greed

Twain realities coexist
Yet they never meet

Peace is easy to violate
War remains difficult to negotiate

Ah! World…so predictable
With no new way ahead
We trudge the known bloody paths

Self-similar war games
Us and them

Power bereft of reason
Reason bereft of compassion
Compassion bereft of love
Love bereft of logic
Logic bereft of purpose

A farce called out
Wit bored of sarcasm
Futile cynicism

Kaleidoscope needs to be shaken
A new pattern must unfold
Out of all brokenness…

My favourite spot

It is easy to imagine
You are sipping
Your morning tea
On your favourite spot
Reading your book

And suddenly
It’s all reduced
To rubbles
Except the place
Where you are sitting
In your favourite spot

You look for elevator
You need stairs
You need to run
Ground beneath feet
Did shake

And now it’s just you
On a high rise
With roof blown
Staring in disbelief

Incredibly lucky? Isn’t it?
To be perched precariously
To watch the scene change
Within seconds
You don’t know
Is it a nightmare?

Where did this missile come from?
When did the war reach my home
Till yesterday I was a civilian
A honest tax paying citizen bystander
When I did I turn into a victim?
A witness to such horror?

Do they even know I am alive?
My dear and near ones who
Probably are watching TV
Sitting in their favourite spot
Will they count me among the dead?

With no signal, no electricity or kitchen
I will have to wait
With this rage, confusion
Fear and grief
Why were we abandoned?
Who abandoned us?
The governments? UN? God?

Will this attack bring peace?
Cease-fire atleast ?
Nations will spar
Deads will be numbered
And not named
Living ones will have no names
Only identities

Suspended in disbelief
I wonder if the house
Was it insured for missile attacks?
But was this an official attack?
Will there be a paper work?
How will they prove?

Everyone will spin the narratives
We are good in condemning
What we cannot prevent
Words, words and more words
Us and them
We forget – they made us
And we made them

Imagine, it is not too difficult
Planet on the brink of extinction
But till the end money needs to be made
Stocks to be bought and sold
No need to see what companies do
Buy and sell
As long as they bring in dividends

Was this missile made by you and me?
Play the probability game
The answer may be infinitesimal
But finite
Ofcourse we didn’t know
Where our money went
Taxes and investments

We were just doing jobs
Building our homes
A place to be
With a favourite spot
To sit, sip and read
To plant our succulents

I look around
My spot, books, succulents
All are there
But rest all is destroyed
Reduced to a pile of contrete
They will find me
They need to mourn
And avenge!

26/10/23

Labyrinth

Trapped in the Labyrinth

It is often impossible
To get out the labyrinth
For the simple reason
You don’t feel trapped

It doesn’t seem what it is
You keep going onwards
While the labyrinth’s design
Takes you backward

Blame it on the design
Or the divine
There is no way to know
That it is a trap

You go in circles
Thinking it’s taking you forward
But it’s a spiral descent
To nowhere or maybe hell

You are happy
With the clever deception
Who doesn’t like
Illusion of happiness?

Who needs justice and peace
Happiness and prosperity?
The grand illusion of it all
Is fine enough

Why risk it all?
For which end?
It’s an endless
Labyrinth

Fatigued, fogged
You are simply happy
Forward or backward or circles
How does it matter?

Soon lifetime will be served
Labyrinth will be inherited
Baton will be passed on
The game will go on…

Designers will blame the divine
Divine will be part of the design
Truth will become a beautiful lie
And all lies will seem truthful

It’s an endless labyrinth
We need to navigate
To keep going
To reach nowhere or maybe hell