River Me to the Sea

Spring me from the mountains
Run me down stream
Guide me through the valleys
River me to the sea.

In you is all there is to me
With you I am
All that I will ever be,
Hold me long hold me strong
Storm me through this life
River me to the sea.

If there is another dawn waiting
Sleep with me through the long night
And rise me up from the sea.

The Paintings I Never Drew

I am not a painter, have never touched a canvas, never splashed colors on to white space awaiting life. But had I been a painter, I would have drawn you crossing the street, catching light, long burgundy hairs catching flight.

I would have painted your smiling face looking up to the skies, your jingling laughter floating around the floors, while you chat on a telephone. I would have painted you in your thoughtful moments, deep black silent eyes poignant, your entire frame frozen, waiting, for that one one moment of clarity, and then the sun would shine again.

I would have painted you riding your bike, your face covered with a shawl, a terrorist on trawl. And I would have painted you looking at me all confused, not knowing what to make out of all the stupid things I say, giving up, and letting be.

I am not a painter but a writer. And it is you I paint, in every written word of my life.

Also Published in Muse India, Jan-Feb 2017 issue

Keep It Simple Stupid!

That you light up my desktop with your Monalisa smile, and look at me from files and windows in which you hide, is no surprise.

When night falls and it is time to sleep, I love to blow a kiss your way, hoping that I have not missed.  That wild draft of wily air which fondled your locks, was my gentle kiss goodnight. Whoosh . . . Goodnight.

January Chill

Life has a beautiful way of finding reasons to live. In its strife and its grace, in its rhythm and its pace, it evolves its own definitions, theories and beliefs. It is for life to find its reasons to live, innovate... I just participate.

Let Me In

For the moment past, I sing no songs, for the moments yet to come, I do not make haste. What will be, will be. For the good times and the times that were otherwise, for the far away and the time that is near, for your smile behind those lashes and your tears behind that smile, for restraints and for flight, for the days yet to be and the nights that have passed, the secrets from our yesterdays will be the fairy tales of our tomorrows.

Open your heart and let me in, why do we need this strife. When the waves hit the shores, there is always, always some respite.