Sometimes It Is Too Late…

A petit pink fresh flower

Fell on the roadside

Just detached from the mother tree

I thought of picking it up

On my way back

As I walked ahead

A big SUV passed me by

At the end of the lane

As I turned

I saw it backing

Into its marked zone

To park perhaps

To my utter dismay

The wheels went over

That petit pink flower lay crushed

Beneath the mother tree

Sometimes it is just too late

To  behold, cherish and save

Beauty is often fragile and transient

Always ending up crushed

Under the ruthless

Wheels of the civilization

Sometimes it is too late

Most times it is too late!!

Light and Dark

Light and Dark

Light and darkness
Both fill my home
I have made peace
With both
For, I dwell in the greys

I never had a life plan
But life did have a design
Without a choice
I went along

I chose life or
Life chose me
Here we are
Conversing daily

I don’t know
What happens tomorrow
Or day after
Or years later

I am fatigued
I am just arriving
At my present
Made of nows

Don’t ask me
About my future
Or the path that
Hasn’t yet appeared

Perhaps, I will forever
Dwell in the greys and greens
To soak in the blue hour
Seeking stars, comets and the moon

My Happy Place

We all look for it

A proverbial ‘happy place’

A place where

One can be oneself

One can find yourself

One learns to look

At self and world differently

In the life’s roller coaster ride

There is always one place, one city

Where you know

You are safe

Not just because of people

But in spite of people

You step out

And the breeze simply seems

To blow to carry away your worries

Making breathing easy 

The green canopies and flowering trees

Waft of filter coffees and dosas, 

The flower fragrances 

Aromatically you are home too

You may not have roots here

But it lets you grow and rediscover 

Your own forgotten self and dreams

Though the traffic is traumatic

It soothes your trauma

Bangalore, what else do I say?

I literally got my second life here

After that near fatal accident

The neurologist too humoured me

With a local humour which is mild and raw

But punches do land

No wonder stand ups thrive here

The city where startups are often born to die

In a shortest span of time

People know how to pick themselves

Where uber drivers too have tales

Of bad investments and losses

You taught me to pick myself up too

Many years ago and later now

I find my broken self here in the bookshops

In science spaces and conversations

Where people still assert

While respecting boundaries

They listen, they let you have the mic

This city feels like my happy place

I can be anyone here

Educator, poet, archivist, traveller

Storyteller, photographer, reader, writer

And be them all at once too

Mankind consists of all kinds

But I always find more of my kind

In this good old charming city

(Which is fast losing its charms)

To which I keep returning to

With my scars and bruises

To my utter surprise

People call me a healer 

That’s how we just heal each other

With conversations over cuppas

Of filter coffees or walks

Undramatically, unknowingly

A calm city which is no hurry

To be smart, fast or the best

Maybe hostile and unwelcoming to some

But then we all need to

Find our happy and safe space

Which lets us be…our unapologetic self

MK

Future?

Future?

They ask me if I think of my future
– have you ever thought of…?
I tell them – I take a day a time
And future as unknown with numerous unknowns and possibilities

I have stopped dreading the future
Out of sheer shame
It is a sheer privilege and luxury
To be alive while many are dying or
Being killed mercilessly

It is not just humans I am talking about
Those are always the collateral
Quid pro pro you see?
No, no – not just life for life
But life for land, minerals, rivers, seas and power

I also mean the other species, climate, air
Trees, rivers, mountains, glaciers, 
Ponds, lakes, forests,.estuaries and wetlands
The planet under the great threat
The land sharks are on the loose
They are worse than the sea ones

And they point out to their political masters
Who they say have a cut
They serve the greed, lust and perversity
They point to you and me too
Our flawed dreams and aspirations

We all want an immortal home
In our mortal lives
We pretend to do it
For our future generations
By killing theirs and rest others

We don’t know where the Owlets went
Or the fledglings
Or the big cats, elephants or the tiny ones
When that wild fire raged
Or the bombs dropped

Future? You ask…
I don’t think it’s gonna be any different
We would be perhaps hanging on the walls
In lovely framed photos taken by best cameras
Which would be vintage ones tomorrow

Those who will survive, will ask
Like we often ask –
Why no one acted to end the war?
Or save the planet?
And life on it?
They would perhaps
Live the tragic consequences
Of our inactions

Being gone, is being free too
Eventual absolute freedom
From the degenerating bodies, ailments
From the cells which start dying
From the day we are born

Being free of the conscience
Free of thoughts and guilt
Not having to bear witness
To ghastly progress
Where we prefer algorithmic voice
And intellect too

I want my plants and trees and rivers
and nature to outlive me
I want to dream of a future that will
Breathe in gratitude
And not curse their past where
Everything was normalised and livestreamed

I just want the future to breathe
I want possibilities of the future to exist
While the present is hell bent on harming it
Just for its own imagined ‘collective good’
For the collectives which are exclusive clubs
Of the powerful, greedy and merciless

I know I don’t have a future
One day dying cells will win over
I know I will wrinkle and wither
Just like my flowers and leaves
There cannot be any other way

Perhaps I am already dead, so are you
We watch it all live streamed
Wildfires, melting glaciers, dead rivers,
Erased forests and the lakes 
Bombs and deaths of the little ones

We still go out and buy those ACs
Cars, new flats and their abundant lies
We think we are part of the exclusive ‘collectives’, the chosen fittest species
With exclusive passes
To the grand party on the plundered land!!!

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

Time Stood Still


Time stood still
We giggled and giggled
Like a pair of good old kids
But in their fifties

Time Stood still
As we stared at those benches
In the front of the canteen
Where we often sat and sang

Time has stood still
In that college campus
When pleaded the guard
To let us in

We went back in Time
Through those gates
Perhaps to seek our younger
Gullible, ugly and clueless selves

We patted on their backs
For making it through 
For finding each other
To make up lost time

But who knew
All sand was about to slip
In that damn hourglass
For one of us

What a chance it was
That we took
Instead of standing each other up
We finally showed up

And we made the Time
Re-wind and replay it all
We relived our nostalgia
And made fresh memories

Re-unions are the sweetest
They take us back in Time
To meet ourselves and find love
Even if it is for one last time!

Pick Yourself Up

Life teaches

How to pick

Yourself up

Along with all

The broken pieces

Of your heart

And your being

One just needs

To be patient

Those life lessons

Are like strewn clues

Hidden in a flower

Or a bleak star

In the night sky perhaps

Or on the dark side

Of the moon

When pushed

To a corner

Or into an abyss

Don’t quit

But rebel

Your life puzzle

Maybe undone

With pieces missing

But new pieces

Are strewn around you

Pick those up

Try to find

A grander puzzle

Or a greater purpose

Or just be

An unseen gardener

Toiling away

For the new seeds

To germinate

Pick yourself up

Don’t give up

Yet.

20/1/2025

The ‘Cancel’ Culture

It has been an interesting week. It began with my tryst with ‘cancel culture’ during Gandhi Jayanti. I guess across all sections there is a growing trend of cancelling Gandhi and of course Nehru. We all know how and when it started. But given the traction it has received we must introspect.

I don’t think it began in recent years, resentment towards these two leaders was always there among a certain cross section but now it has got amplified thanks to modern narratives and propaganda being spread through Whatsapp university and social media. Their own personal lives and lifestyle choices are casting a very dark shadow on their roles as powerful leaders who shaped India’s non-violent freedom movement and nurtured India’s new born democracy in its infancy.

It is ironic that as we gloat and compete for IITs, build new IITs, the leaders who steered India towards higher education and scholarship are being vilified and defamed casually. With their names too being removed from public spaces, I really don’t know whether their legacy and commitment towards non-violence, equality and high quality education for all will be remembered at all. Perhaps they will be known only for their personal life scandals just like film stars, writers, artists, or celebrities lives are often reduced to. I really don’t know where this ‘cancel’ culture will lead us unless there is another counter culture to balance it. I guess we are headed towards collective amnesia that Marquez and Galeano often talked about. We will not remember the past or how it shaped us because we are too busy cancelling it.

News from France has been interesting too. Bedbugs have entered our daily conversations too. Almost everyday I get to hear about bedbug related scares, jokes and their repercussions. Campus talks apparently are questioning kinds – why should French bedbugs be in the news at all when almost all big cities and countries have it? There are conspiracy theories afloat. France of course is not in denial and they are doing their best. My son’s room and entire residency underwent sanitization. It is evident from the recent focus of media stories on ‘islamophobia’ in France or this bed bugs saga that there is cancel culture propaganda and messaging. Like us, the French are apparently blaming their neighbours (who have fallen out over Brexit) for their woes and negative publicity.

Students of course have been kept busy with coursework and high level courses. After classes they huddle in discussion spaces available around the campus. Apparently, these spaces have reference books, tiny cafes and cluster desks for students to sit and discuss. Since classes are of 3 – 4 hours duration, they are allowed to walk out in between to get their cuppas. Teachers are highly impressive and they hold the attention of the class for 3 -4 hours at a stretch. From what I understand European universities have very rigorous undergraduate courses so students from elsewhere, even those who are doing double masters, are struggling a bit. They all are taking courses as a challenge so I guess they are happily engaged between classes and looking for groceries they need.

Finally my son went to a tiny Indian neighborhood thanks to his Ecuadorian classmate who wants to try cooking Indian cuisine while my son is getting introduced to Latin American sauces and recipes.He finally found – green chillies too – he was missing their taste and flavour the most. They are having nice little cultural exchanges and celebrating diversity. He gave a hearty laugh saying there you are trying to plan a festival to celebrate diversity but here we are celebrating it every day – bonhomie is amazing and no one mocks others.

He tells me, most students are very critical about their own nations and their politics so they don’t insult or mock others. I guess most nations are failing their youths in some way or the other. From what I hear, it gives me hope.

I am worried about how ‘cancel’ culture will play out in our nation’s future. Good journalism almost got literally cancelled by those who are in power last week.

France has kept its education and universities standards very high which is very heartening and it was evident when Nobel prize for Physics was announced. French Nobel laureate took the call during the break and went back to her class to complete the lesson. It says volumes about their commitment to teaching and nurturing younger generations.

Incidentally, when ‘Attosecond’ Nobel was announced, my son was doing his first lab class which he said was a great fun and nothing like the set practicals students do here. Yesterday he also said, “wish there was a way to enrol in undergraduate mathematics course here all over again and then do masters”. I had tried to steer him towards mathematics but now in French University corridors he is developing a deeper liking for mathematics. Engaging deeper is hardly visible these days in our education sphere when the focus is just to pass the exams with top grades and get qualifying degree for good jobs or positions which are so few.

My ironing lady was earlier looking for teaching jobs for her daughter who has done B.Ed from Bihar and now she is seeking any household help job for her. On the contrary, I met a brilliant MTech qualified student who is pursuing B.Ed. So we are in absurd times – qualified teachers don’t have jobs but engineers are seeking teaching qualifications as they are out of jobs too.

As a nation and as people we will keep going in circles I guess while making radius smaller and cancelling everything beyond that radius. Good luck to us!

Storm

There bellows a strong wind
A storm arrives from strange lands
Just to irrevocably change
Everything that is and will be

Overnight it sweeps away
The cobwebs of Time
Changes the entire
Landscape of survival

There is no way to stop
The raging winds, tides
Lightning or the rains
No way to lock it all away

Change becomes eternal
Certainties uncertain
Life transforms
For better or worse

What remains same
Are dawns and the dusks
Motion of the planet
And yearnings of a heart

There is no going back
To recreate what it was
One that did not withstand
The winds and the storm

Yet condemned to hope
And dream
We sail our ships
Trusting oceans of Time