Not from the sand hill I built At the waves’ target, Not the sands that send storms That come and go and we forget, Not the vast spread of desert sand With a beginning and end to even that vastness, Not the sands stolen and cumulated To rise buildings skyhigh yet with finiteness..
But, from the sands of..
..Time..
Why call it sands? Cos time formed the sand clock, Or vice versa..?
Whatever..
She rises, From the sands of time.. The vast, the infinite, The unforgettable, the target evader, Time…
Time flows And travels, Endures life, Evades death, Races all parallel, but one..
It has a companion in its journey, A fellow traveler, A parallel…
She, Whose birth is unknown, Whose death is impossible, But whose existence is hidden, And so she joins with time, To move and keep herself going, Handed over from generation to generation, With mocking continuity, Frightening timidity, Lightening ability, when revealed, But a tightening rigidity, when veiled…
She is…
..Truth…
The bear stares at me.. So does the hunter..
The world revolves, They tell me, By moving on and on, And to move them, they let me.. Where they go, I may know not, But I know they take me places, Places of my thought…
The bear revolves.. So does the hunter..
Times move too, They insinuate.. Whenever I want time to stagnate.. To look at the dark heaven Perched flat on the terrace, A planetarium overhead, An epilogue of my everyday And to morrow, a preface..
The bear moves me.. And so does the hunter..
They never listen, Yet I talk, They never speak, Yet I listen, stark.. I have never comprehended Their sense of existence, Big bang and others don’t strike my noodle, Neither do I have my own pretence..
The bear listens to me.. And so does the hunter..
And it is this noncomprehension That gives me faith and cover, That never does sow a seed For misunderstanding.. Cos to understand, I never try.. And it is this reason too That I frequent this place, Cos it tells me, Distance gives ma solace..
The bear gives solace And so does the hunter..
Stars take shape, They form a bear and a hunter, They form much more, They show what all I reflect yonder.. You join the dots to get constellations, I join along with them to form frames of life, What all ran till date And what all I want to run, a window of life..
The bear runs my frames, And so does the hunter..
And sometime later, The sky will be only my frames.. No bears, no hunters.. My territory, and new names.. Already I have conquered quite a bit, And I can see my shapes staring back, Yeah illusions alright, Wet I will continue to babble, Till tonight, I hit the sack..
The bear changes its shape, And so does the hunter!
I knew all along that this was you the person you are and what all you would do.. I knew all along..
Love is not finding the person you love, but loving the person you find.. and hence as the person i wanted you to be, i drew your picture in mind.. love is not finding the person you love..
In the comfort zone i lay not wavered by waves of rationality, not wheedled by weeds of logic, not bowdlerized by bouts of sanity.. in the comfort zone i lay..
I am shocked now, yes.. when the inevitable occured, when my buried fears dusted themselves out, when my wilful nonexpectations realised themselves, when you finally walked out.. I am shocked now, yes..
But why.. not cos of the shock of misinterpretation, not the shock of being lone, not the shock of betrayal, but the shocked state of loss of comfort zone.. But why..
cos life is.. but the victory over uncertainities, and the victory is the comfort, and the comfort is the state of feigned fulfilment, feigned it always will be.. and hence i can keep making an effort.. cos life still is…..
Redolent vapours, bending to the tune of the breeze.. at the backdrop of a darkness shedding sky, sprouting and mingling with air..
Dissecting my view of the window, or rather transcending.. the vapours from the coffee mug, in their upward morning journey again, and mine, backward..
As i look on at the clearing sky, miles away from home, (it would just be darkening there) with the aroma of the liquid ecstacy, kindling reminiscences within..
whether its the coffee of morning or morning of home, the fragrance lifts the soul, from atop this soulless skyscraper, to an earth clutching, life filled earthy and out of the world house, called home....
As the addictive odour steals within..
Scoffing at the desktops, jeering at the nibbles on the plate, mocking at the never noticed clock, sneering at the shindigs of the weekends,