A SACRED DISPOSITION

 

looked up, an old fragile flower
gazing at the wide azure
savvying for a drizzle
which perhaps
could
rejuvenate its trembling veins…
in an instant
vanishes, the evanescence
in the zephyr
“O! don’t take ages ..cries the
soul…
in more anguished pain…
suffocates the last breath
here , I strangulate .”

for long I had been
away from thy shelter
sneaking out of thine refuge
warping on false slumbers…
atrophied my stature
besotted I remained,
as the power of free will
diminishes ,
the mind emaciated…
Awhile the orphic shower cleanses
my deepest caverns…
let my petals secrete
at thy humble feet
the good , bad and evil
in a sacred disposition…

Rooted!

alive remain we, until grounded,

in depths of soil, as we are rooted.

a moment takes to uproot the base,

dry the leaves of existence, life devastates.

 

 

Thou! Champa!

O! Thou! tranquil peace of my heart
I await your presence
soak me by thy shower of fragranced love
utterly in delight, I whisper!

between the breath of mine and thine
dances the pulsating heart
that which once was mine
now adorns as your part!

Look! thine magic worked upon
the mystique feeling is on
like the champa flowers ,
Thou !enthrall…
I, as the jasmine statued captivated with your fall…

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AGE

 

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Age gracefully as, the day
transforms which beautifully
into  twilight
ripens the sky with different hues
while  breeze gets pleasant at dusk
after being sultry ,
mature thus like the day which
merges with  darkness of night silently
awaiting for the new morn to be dawned
sleeping in its arms gently !

CHILD OF WORLD’S DESTINY

CHILD OF WORLD”S DESTINY

 

On streets forlorn
Walks the child, destitute
The infant of world’s destiny…

 In rags torn
hungry and homeless
roaming through lanes
for a morsel!

The rulers sit on a lavish throne
speak high volumes of chore
actions fail to achieve
war and blasts kill
the child of world’s destiny
lives as a requiem…

Plough thy field!

Plough thy field ,
O! restless mind,
barren is thy land
make it fertile…

rake up the soil
undug the earth
freshen thy surface for the sow…
spread the seeds of the enchanting name
Whose utterance will lift your veil

O! ignorant mind,
cultivate thy land
let the virtuous arrive
till then thy senses,
recite the song
of the majestic creator,
The Supreme one

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Thou! Jealousy!

Thou! Jealousy
as a veiled maiden deceits…

metamorphoses into various shapes
changeth appearances
lures
with exuberant names…

lest anyone finds
the hidden coquette
she overthrows him into the tragic well…

Discontented, ever desiring
innocence burns out in her lusty eyes
she hath destroyed the realms
of peace and love
playing the fiddle to her  tunes!

Beware! says the soul
here  comes, the enticing queen
do not be her slave
dooms she ,every life…thence,
open your eyes
remove the veil…

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Tis’ your journey

tis your journey,
which you undertake
on the lonesome path
for miles before you rest…
afar lies the horizon,
prickly branches near
the sun will scorch your tender skin’
if you aren’t strong and
stand with valour…
lift thy spirits in dark nights
through dense jungles
scary beings of fear and death
shall haunt you
if you don’t have faith ever.
tis your journey,
O! young soul…
traverse on the path
till you touch the blue sky
and finally kiss the stars….

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Melancholic drops!

shared I , the melancholic drops

fell which on the blossom of life

drenching my fabric

whence I treasure a casket

of those translucent gems for you.

 

not before long

they had rolled swiftly

away was the spring of love then,

missed thy ,my gorgeous raindrops

doused which as the early monsoon.

 

I realize ,how precious you

find them, glittering and shining

preserved , saved thus

like jewels

the drops melancholic…

 

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Danseuse of Konark!

An epitome of grace,

as figurine in  tribhanga

The ultimate superfluous aura radiates

in the dancing statuette …

on beats pulsating,reverberate which the atoms of air

she steps on earth,kissing the soil of her motherland

with hands folded in a lotus shape,

her fingers offer the love of her heart,

she, the classic danseuse of  Konark!

 

Behind her, wheels of the royal chariot of Sun stand

withstanding years of scorching heat and sordid weather

The rustic sandstone roughens every moment

while her feet thumps in rhythm ,on every beat of the Mridanga!

 

Echoes the melancholic intense love of Geet Govinda,

sways the sculptured posture like a waving petal…

tenderly mesmerizing the ambience

in every atom of the milieu …

 starts the Abhinaya.

 

What an enchanting sight!

an alluring panorama…

The vista shines in flamboyance

in the ethereal dance

with the myriad hues of heaven…

 

Tribhanga: Pose of Odissi dance.

Mridanga: Indian drum,                           

Abhinaya: an Odissi dance form
Geet Govinda: an epic in form of verse written by Jaidev

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