The Zero

Yes, there are countless numbers
That exist in this vast Universe.
Some are sought for bank balances,
And some for rankings and scores.

But the number that I like the most
Is that which is nothingness – a zero.
Now you may think it foolish, almost
Imbecilic, ludicrous, and absurd.

But listen carefully when I say
It has more value than anything else.
On the face of it, it might look worthless,
But it’s a point from where to commence.

It holds innumerable possibilities
For the end, and also, the beginning.
The entire Universe was born from it.
In a zero, there’s space for everything.

Its emptiness is extremely powerful
And, you’d agree when I say so –
A true student is one who lets go,
For enlightenment is in the state of zero.

The Armageddon

The threads of memories
In myriad vibrant hues and shades
Create beautiful tapestries.

Or so, you’d think.
Sometimes, these tapestries
Turn into something different.

Threads wind around one another
Forming tight and gnarly knots,
Color over color replacing each color.

The mind struggles to make sense
Of the changing memoryscapes.
Faces once familiar now seem strange.

The constant tugging and pulling
Leads to the strings snapping.
This is a war in which everyone’s losing.

The tapestry tattered,
Some threads lie scattered.
Precious images are forever shattered.

Like a withering autumn leaf,
Battered by the elements, on the tree,
One by one, the memories leave.

Nothing overcomes the inertia.
A blank space forms like an empty shell
In the armageddon of dementia.

The Field of Fireflies

Being with you is like
Running through a field of fireflies
Under the purple skies of twilight.

Tiny flashes, in the air, rise
Creating a show of sparkly designs
Like the stars shining in your eyes.

Glows pulse through the night
Relaying messages in a code divine
As you hold my hand and smile.

That moment etches in my mind,
And in that moment, I realize
I’m the night and you, my firefly.

Forever together, our fates entwine
As we make memories of love and light
In the shimmering field of fireflies.

Symphony of the Stars

Darkness falls.
And everywhere, creatures of the day
Settle down to sleep in their beds.

And yet, Night calls.
The cloudy grey curtains, She parts,
To present the symphony of the stars.

The heart falls
As love rises to a melodious crescendo
Orchestrated by each twinkle and glow.

And, the sky calls.
It beckons and tugs every moving thing
To dance with the starlight and sing.

The song falls
On the ears of those who seek to listen,
Its tunes woven into dreams that glisten.

My soul calls.
It replies in affirmation to the invite,
Revelling in the symphony of stars at night.

O Stomach!

O stomach! The things I do for you
Couldn’t be any more stranger, too!

There’s no moment in the day
When I don’t heed what you say.
I give you ice cream, chocolates,
And puddings piled up in plates.

But you say these do not suffice,
So, I eat muffins, cakes, and pies,
Lemon tarts and cheesecakes,
Pancakes and bowls of souffles.

You then rumble and ask for more,
And I eat candies by the score,
Almond cookies and sweet buns,
And yet, you yell you aren’t done!

You want slices of bread and jam,
Custard with jelly and baked flan,
Sweet milkshakes with berries,
Caramelized and sugary toffees.

I just keep gobbling and gobbling
Till there’s no space left for filling.
Brownies, doughnuts, and fudge-
I chomp them all without a fuss!

And now tell me, why do you spasm
After I’ve filled your abysmal chasm?
I have to eat bland food that’s boiled
And spoon upon spoon of castor oil!

O stomach! The things I do for you
Couldn’t be any more stranger, too!

Confessions of an Insomniac

Silently, the day takes flight.
Across the dark sky, the Moon glides.
Through the curtains, a ray of light
Makes a shape on the wall as it slides.

Silently, I lie awake
Waiting and waiting for sleep to overtake,
But like a falling snowflake,
With a fleeting touch, it does forsake.

Silently, I remember
Lullabies that drew me into slumber.
Your voice that only in memories I hear
Is lost now in the autumnal zephyr.

Your gentle song guided me
As I voyaged to the realm of sleep.
Each night, it was the keeper of my dream
And a sign of your love for me so deep.

I long to hear that cradle song!
To sleep ensconced in its warmth!
But, the silence stays with me till dawn
With a sleeplessness that feels so wrong.

Happy Diwali

I wish you a day

As bright
As the diyas you light.

As full of color
As the rangoli on the floor.

As sweet
As the laddoo and karanji.

As savoury
As the sev and chakli.

As crispy
As the batasha and khili.

As sparkly
As the anaar and phooljhadi.

As lit up
As the chakri and rocket.

As shimmery
As your golden jewelry.

As gorgeous
As you in your new dress.

As tender
As the moments spent together.

As holy
As the temple bells and aarti.

As auspicious
As Lord Ram’s return to Ayodhya.

As powerful
As the Good that overcomes Evil.

I wish you a very happy Diwali!

The Candle and The Wind

Once upon a long time ago,
A candle burned alone.
Its tiny flame spread the light
In the pitch black moonless night.

Soon, the wind picked up speed
Tossing away the fallen leaves.
Towards the candle, it rushed
Eager to swipe it with its gusts.

The little flame clung helplessly
Flickering wildly in the breeze.
But, with a sudden cold gush,
The solitary candle was snuffed.

The wanderer saw everything –
The battle of the candle and the wind.
But, in his mind, a light had been lit,
And he scribbled in his manuscript.

“A little candle; A little wind
Is what’s needed for the flame to be lit.
Too much candle or too much wind
Will unleash a power that’s destructing.

If both of them are just right,
The path would light up at night.
And just so, that mind is enlightened
In which the candle and wind are balanced.”

I Wish

I wish I could wish for a wish
And wish for that wish to manifest.
O wouldn’t it be splendidly lovely
If I stumbled upon a wish tree!

I would sit in its shade in the glade
And watch my wishes come true all day.
If I was hungry, I’d wish for a pie,
And the tree would bake for me a slice.

If I was thirsty, I’d wish for lemonade,
And voila! I’d get it in a glass on a tray.
If I was sleepy, I’d wish for a bed,
And on a soft mattress, I’d lay my head.

If I was bored, I’d wish for a story,
And the tree would narrate one to me.
If I was lonely, I’d wish for my friends,
And on the leaves, they’d all descend.

But here I am, in this war-torn city!
With screams and sirens all around me!
I’m frightened, and all I wish for is peace.
But I’m just a child without a wish tree.

The Light In My Head

I have a light in my head.
It turns on when I go to bed.
And in this light I can see
Everything that’s not meant to be.
I see things that didn’t go right
Except that they are magnified.
Things I said or didn’t say
Or did or didn’t do during the day
And the possible repercussions
Are all blown out of proportions.
One thing leads to another,
And all these are such a bother!
At a time when I should be sleeping,
I lie awake, brooding and thinking.
Oh! what a nervous wreck am I!
Mulling over all the ifs and whys.
Then, the morning sees me awake
With a pumpkin-like strange face.
No book, no talk, no spell, no potion
Has cured me of this condition.
I could be wrong, and I could be right,
But this adds to my deplorable plight!
And so, the night fills me with dread,
For I have a light in my head.

Autumn’s First Breath

Autumn’s first breath is Summer’s last.
It’s warmth giving way to nippy drafts.
With Winter waiting on the far horizon,
Autumn is Nature’s final celebration.

The trees in the glades glow vibrantly
As their leaves let go the usual green,
To wear yellow, orange, red and brown,
And gracefully twirl towards the ground.

The pregnant fields yield their harvests –
Plumpy pumpkins and crunchy carrots,
Sweet apples and tangy cranberries,
Beets and more, all ripe for the picking.

As the people of the world celebrate
With Halloween and Thanksgiving Day,
Nature prepares Herself for Her sleep,
To dive into the depths of dormancy.

The chilly air is the harbinger of change.
The trees stand bare, looking so strange.
The applause for their show slowly fades.
With Autumn’s last breath, Winter awakes.

The Night of Kanha

The endless expanse of the sky,
Dark blue, like Kanha,
Glitters with stars on a clear night,
Each one, a bedecked Gopika.

While alone, I sit in my room
Staring outside the window.
Darkness casts a pall of gloom.
What do I seek? I don’t know!

Suddenly, I hear something!
Muted sounds of laughter,
Notes of a flute, enchanting,
And tinkles of anklets fall on my ears.

I glance around, but the street’s quiet.
The house is still and dark, too.
Yet, the night, with music, is alive,
And wraps me in midnight blue.

I see then within myself a light
That chases away the darkness.
My soul rejoices like the starry night.
My hope renews in Kanha’s embrace.