Stars burn out too

Sun and stars may seem like

Permanent fixtures of our lives

Moving across the sky

The sun and other billions of them

They are literally a ball of fire

Constantly fusing atoms together

Depleting their reserves slowly

And very brightly

They are going to die too

Each one of them

Die and evolve into something else

Depending on how big or small they are

White dwarf, black dwarf, neutron stars

Or maybe a black hole

Just like every other being

The stars burn out too

And fade into oblivion

Their life timescales are too large

For us to witness

Like ours is for creatures who

Live for only for a bit

Nothing is permanent

Nor stars, nor universe nor we

Yet we keep seeking forevers

Knowing very well that

The cosmic dance can end  any moment

Knowing that everyone will move on

Memories linger but that too

For a while, only a little while

In the grand scale of the universe

Sky, horizons, time, colours

Eternities and forevers are illusions

Stars burn out too…so do we…

Difficult Days

These are difficult days

When reality occults the dreams

It is bizarre isn’t it?

Reality that we try to figure out

Or try to make sense of ?

Is this also imagined ?

Then what is real?

What I think is real real?

The time that ticks away?

Or the dream that fades over time?

Is time too imagined?

Just like dreams ?

Sun does rise for real

But again it’s a play

Play of light, atmosphere

We see it before it even 

Peeps over the horizon 

While setting sun lingers elsewhere

It rises for us in full glory

It illuminates the tiniest dust particles

While darkness engulfs elsewhere

With no power to light their lives

Powerless have to make through

Another cold imprisoned night

Maybe darkness is a blessing

That hides the cruelty, rubble

That amputated humanity

Missing its phantom spine

Where do we go from here? 

Dreams are the only ransom

We can pay

To continue existing

Dreams of freedom

And that hopeless hope

Stars twinkling away far off

They are the witnesses

Of how our sun was born

And our Earth came into being

How dinosaurs roared and vanished

Maybe if we can fine tune

From somewhere

Maybe it is still visible

How it all began

The eternal cycle of

creation and destruction

It is such a pity

We want to behold pleasure

Which comes at the cost of pain!

We want to behold AI

Which comes at the I

These are difficult days…

Far too Long…

It takes far too long

To figure out the right from wrong

It takes far too much

To comprehend how much is too much

It takes a lifetime

To figure out life is about time

Sometimes it’s far too late

To let go what is already lost

It takes too long to figure out

There isn’t any blue print

And there isn’t much to figure out

By the time we find the puzzle pieces

It is too late

The puzzle actually is being undone

And not all pieces fit in

It takes forever

To know that silence is eloquent

Conveys more than words

It takes too many wars to know

To know what actually is at stake

And wars go on far too long

And love?

We can barely hold it for long

It slips through fingers like sand

The moment you define it

It becomes a possession

A caged bird

Which rarely returns when set free

It goes away far too far and

Far too long…

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!!

Stranger

A stranger stares at me

Whenever I look at the mirror

A school girl with two pigtails

A college goer

A trekker

A writer

Stranger takes many forms

All forms seem

Like a figment of imagination

The mirror itself has gone missing

The images are stuck in my head

My self tries to time travel

I climb the hills

But I go out of breath

The pigtails are gone too

A writer perhaps still thrives

Who will keep record

Of all these strangers?

They grew up with me

And then abandoned me

Or maybe I abandoned them

It’s not just them or me

The world has become a stranger too

Victims have turned perpetrators

Little children no longer grow old

To stare at the mirror

To remember their many strange selves

As we go further to discover

Ever expanding edges of the Universe

We seem to be collapsing

Just like those stars running out of hydrogen

We are made of star dust after all

Stars taught us to go nuclear perhaps

Just like a habitat with prey and predators

We continue to live in a concrete jungle

Though roles get reversed in every epoch

Predators become prey

Hunted turn into hunters

How long will it take for us

To be humans?

Mirror has no answers

My many selves and versions

Collapse into one too

The one that is trapped

Behind the mirror or screen perhaps

A virtual self…a stranger

Stares back at me!!

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

Killings

Senseless violent killings

Never make sense

More so

Killing of young children

They don’t deserve

To be targets

In a failed world

With failed morals

They don’t

Need to die

During morning prayers

For our failings

To build a safe world

Senseless violent killings

Of young children anywhere

Doesn’t make sense

Far too many children

In far too many countries

Are laying their lives

For humanity’s moral decadence

Be it in Gaza, Ukraine or US itself

The more weapons you build

The more innocents will die

Why do you wish to rule

Over corpses and graves?

What will grow there?

Your riches are scarred

And tainted with bloodbaths

We have scarred children

Who grow up as adults

To kill more children

Vicious cycles of deaths

They are on you

Though you have

Traded your conscience

To guns and drones lobby

And your religion too

How many more small graves

Need to be dug?

Don’t you realise

You are ending your line

The line of inheritance

Riches and homes

Build over little graves

Will never last

Should not last

Idiot

Idiot!

They laughed

When she looked at the horizon

No one knew

She could see that

Sky never kissed the earth

They laughed

When she looked up at the sky

Idiot!

No one knew she looked into the infinite space

Seeking…

They mocked

When she kissed a youth

What would an idiot know about love?

No one knew

That she had kissed Life

And paid her compliments

For being alive,

For being able to laugh and cry

For being able to love

Written in 2000 after watching Gelsomina in Fellini’s La Strada

(Un)Loved

Un)loved

We need to learn to mourn
The passing of the (un)loved
From our lives

These (un)loved ones
They are around us
Unseen and invisible

They simply don’t exist
They go (un)noticed
(Un)cared and (un) acknowledged

These kind invisible people
Actually pass on even before
They are actually dead

We take them so much for granted
We use them as cheerleaders
We need them as doormats

They are so kind
That they never learn to fight
For visibilty or to be seen

They are simply happy
To exist as trees
Or non-being in the house

We don’t even realise
That we have stopped
Noticing them or loving them

And then when the greater evil arrives
Be it war, accident or disease
We regret their actual passing

We make mourning and grief
All about ourselves
The grand spectacle of empathy

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…