Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Good bye Orhan!

Just the ticking of a clock,
Else it’s pin drop silence
As grey and gloomy as death,
The drowsy mind witnesses its soul’s departure.

A simple  goodbye,
just an innocent question -“Would you come too?”
No wailing, no mourning
No hugs and kisses,
Not even wishes of farewell.

Silent as we thought it would be
And unexpectedly painless…
The whirlwind of heart takes time perhaps,
To become overwhelming sadness.

Palolem

Two big kingfishers dive in
On wings golden aquamarine
Coconut sways on the seashore
Trying to be sober in Palolem.

As if the mirage wasn't enough
The water nymphs light the fire
All desire is transience
Except the desire, to desire desire.

Golden sun shimmers.
On shore the keeper of time.
Waves come and waves go
The stars light up the shadow.

On the northern tip of crescent
Begins the reggae percussion
Strings invoke the gypsy lore
Songs recalled forgotten

The candle lights are lit all over
As if its Diwali
Two kingfishers dive in again
Flapping their wings drunken - Palo..lem, Palo..lem, Palo..lem.

Mango peel kayak and deep sea

Bobbing in boundless blue
Far from anything familiar
A slice of you the wanderer
I know , We are ONE not asunder.

On orange mango peel kayak
solitary from dawn to dark...
I row and row through waves strident
Stopping occasionally tired and silent...

I become the buoyancy
I become the sea
I become the blue sky
Till I become thee...

The agape elderly couples of Margao

All the children are long gone
Having built their lives on distant shores
The elderly couple has stayed back staring,
Into their own folklore.

The broken faucet remains broken,
The hanging holder has no bulb.
The fringes of the gate has rusted
It is all turning to mud.

Several times they have spoken
For how much would this sell,
“After us, it is all theirs”
For the dead have claims to none.

Kith and kin die often 
In this ripened age,
They have even chosen their coffin
A fit for D’costa parade.

They say - Geriatric existence is delusion.
A swing between nonsense and intense
In the end it is all pretense
A sepia, monotone, monochrome dream sequence.