heart of darkness

sledgehammer summer
beats down
with the droplets of sweat
down my spine
travels this moment

a Sufi melody
pours out
of a modern gadget
trance struggles to find
its way
through the modern beats

its 7.30 am
the birds chirp
the rat race
neck to neck
and some corners
of the soul
always dark
always quiet

swinging between
yes and no
questions wait
holding their breaths

TV sets, election rallies
cricket scores
complaints
suggestions

noise noise noise
and amidst the chaos
my personal
heart of darkness !




 

HAIKUS FROM NOWHERE

I
wait for summer breeze
ladybird ,look at the crow -
on the cliff of hope.

II
beyond this summer
the showers will be waiting-
a lone sparrow sighs !


III
can you imagine
the first drop of rain falling,
on a waiting palm ?

SUMMER RAIN

Early morning
first summer shower
a million drops of love
crashing against
the parched heart
of the earth

and suddenly
the other woman-
west wind blows away
the brooding lover clouds

the day as long as
a lonely life
crawls ,its breath faltering


the longing earth
with sad evening eyes
stares into
the sunset !

LADY FOG

The summer lover
seems to have left
in haste

leaving her
icy cold
her pearl string
scattered all over
the flower bed

the drape of
her achromatic saree
haphazard

she sways
all night
as if still in
the trance
of the brief
autumn warmth.

Then and Now

Summers didn't mean much to me in my growing -up years in Shimla,except a rather thick rush of tourists there.A few years later as a student in Chandigarh I enjoyed bounties of  the hot-indian summer to the fullest for the first time.Mangoes,watermelons,ice-creams,evening walks,tall shakes,shorts and spaghetti tops.The minuscule room in hostel was barely a palace of  dreams with the loud cooler a constant companion.
The dark but cool corridors of the AC Joshi library in the university ,thickly lined with volumes of wisdom was the oasis, other than late night chats on the lawns with my friends.
Now almost a decade later in the same city....things have changed,life has changed, for better or worse I'm yet to decide.Have a home here now,share the AC comfort with my beautiful daughter and husband.There is no worrying for water for the cooler,electricity cut in the middle of the night.Just a longing for a heart -to-heart at 2a.m with a friend,or the mad run on a scooty at 10 p.m for an  ice-cream before the hostel gates close.
A strange tug for no mobile times,when waiting for his call on the hostel phone was romance.
When writing meant time alone with my faded diary.
I know it is unfair to weigh one period against the other...what are memories for...
and who knows next decade on something more technologically advanced than a blog i'll tell you about my 2011 in chandigarh.