Poetry Ai’nt Luxury

If poetry were a luxury

Afforded by only few

The world wouldn’t have known

Realities of poverty, hunger and war

That lament of loss and grief

Poetry ain’t luxury

Thankfully

A little girl hiding in an attic

With just a paper and pen

Multitudes of thoughts and emotions

Finds an alternative realm

Realm of words and emotions

Those damn slaves, those blues singers

Poetry freed them from slavery

Songs and poetry of protests

Gave language, words and idioms

To the oppression and violence they endured

Poetry gave the moon and stars 

Silver linings another meaning

Metaphors for hopes, love and loss

There wouldn’t be lullabys

There won’t be haikus

Long and short

Lyrical and free verse

Had poetry been a luxury

It belongs to those who own it

A craft they are willing to hone it

It says much even in its pauses

Brevity is its expanse

Poetry is a friend

Who walks along

Encouraging one to face life

It is like those fallen and trampled flowers

A true evidence of life lived and unlived.

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…

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!!

Tiger Tiger

http://madkatphotoessays.com/2025/11/08/tiger-tiger/

Excerpt:

“Humans who have built roads

Into their territories

Are now the new colonisers

How much ever we study history

Dissect colonisation

We continue to colonise nature

To plunder it all

Leaving no space to other species

While the capital city

Chokes on high AQI

We try fancy stuff

Like seeding the clouds

We want even clouds

To be performative

Even when all our acts

Grand spectacular failure

We refuse to learn simple truth

We just need to save 

The planet and nature 

For it to save us!!”

Image courtesy: Arvind Karthik

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

Trust and Love

Trust and Love

The kitten ran
Helter skelter
Scared, very scared
Neighborhood kids
Tried to reason with it
But it was too small
Full of fear
Confused maybe
Maybe it felt attacked
While actually it was
Being rescued

Rescuers didn’t earn
Its trust perhaps
But they were sure
It ought to trust them
The more they tried
Befriending it
More it shrank
Into the shadows

Lessons in trust
Are most difficult
To learn
It’s a language
It’s an action
That promises safety
Both sides need to be
Calm and patient
To set this dialogue stage
On safe middle grounds

What is the language of trust?
What is the language of love?
No one teaches these
We are supposed to learn them
Context, syntax and meaning
Most often we learn the hard way
After the trust is broken
And love breaks the trust

In that darkness
Tiny kitten couldn’t see
Trust or love in the eyes
While everyone saw
Fear in its eyes
When they backed off
It ran for its life
Away from the life
It took a while
For it to return
To this game of
Hide and seek again

Maybe it will survive
Maybe it won’t
Depends on what lurks
In the darkness
One can only hope
It finds its way to
To the bowl of milk
Waiting for it
Food often builds trust
So does tender care

Tenderness is rare
No one teaches us that too
Knowingly, unknowingly
It comes our way
Like the gentle breeze
That helps us breathe

Love can be suffocating
It can smother and kill
What it pretends to protect
While trying to control
We never try to understand
Children’s language
Instead we expect them
To comprehend ours

Children too run
Helter skelter
With fear in the eyes
Unsure why
Mistrust masquerades
As trust
And anger as love
Like Pavlov’s subjects
Why does it all
Have to be reward
Or punishment?

When will we learn
To back off?
And wait patiently
With food and trust
On the table
And tender love in
Our hearts?

#WorldMentalHealthDay2025

Unpredictable Life

Nothing succeeds like success

And nothing fails like a failure

Life remains a gamble

Whose cards we neither own

And not do we hold

It’s a probability game they say

Chances of one being born

Chances of one dying

Who decides the starting lineup?

Who makes it

To the finishing line?

Your guess is as good as mine

It’s a bad script

A very sad one too

Life – remains a long sigh

We will never know

If the cries of those children

Will become our worse nightmare

How does one settle upon a grave?

Or build mansions

On trampled dreams

Merchants will sell you anything

Ketto diet, protein diet, botox

A whole new you

Like a Ship of Theseus

Nothing authentic or original

But yet we ace at being an odd

Superposition of the both

Forgetting lines

Of an erasing script

We keep babbling

Nothing makes sense

None of the pieces

Of this puzzle fit

If only we could feel

The emptiness of space

Earth’s solo cosmic dance

Rarest of rare life on it

Sustained by the sun

Maybe we would learn

To value this one chance

The one shot

We actually have

To live a life

To love a life

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