I wish

 These are few verses written by a friend of mine. I hv tried to keep evry spelling n case intact. This is too less an appreciation for such poets.neways,Dont go literally just by the words, read between them to understand.It luks plain and opposite, but there lies the rhetoric.

I wish …

 

I am not a perfect person

But I wish life was easy

For it keeps me on my nerves

Running all the while

So little time to breathe

Yet living discreetly

Panting like a shot tiger

Just when i feel my feet.

 

I am not a perfect person

But i feel so weak

For light keeps leaving me

Over to darkness

..

For the greater good

The December wind passes through me

And oh, it so cold

Cold like a dead phoenix

The child inside feels cold

And so does the soul

For all they could do now

Is wait for the light to return

 

I am not a perfect person

But I wish i was sinful

For I couldn’t care about my whiteness

The pureness inside me

Dying all the time

Playing with the lusty heart

Sometimes it goes wild

Disturbing the open sky

Painting it white again

For all it wants

Is a pure world again

 

I am not a perfect person

But I wish i could stop trying

Resting for sometime

To get myself together

Relaxing my tired bones

And paint a free river again

Which flows through every moment

That I have been throough

Reminding me of everything found

Everything lost

Every turn with a funeral

And every twist with a boy at hair shedding ceremony

Everything that smelled like camphor

And everything that had the fragrance of jasmine

 

Every single drop of tear that spoke

That sunk deep into the heart

That dried in the eyes

Every found penny

And every lost diamond

Every found love

And every lost one

Every longed phrase

And every silent word

For all I want is my happy world

My longed happy world

 

I am not a perfect person

But I wish

I wish …

 

purple Gaze..

Let me watch the night

Tall above the fake lights

See the aura of darkness

                     Realm of dreams, flirtatious desires

 

The rock and the butterflies

                    Shining in the moonlight.

The lusty crisp wind

                      The dimming yellow star

 They are many .. but far

                        Lost in deep bizarre..

 

One by one, they show up

                        Their luster in the haze

As the mortal clown

                         Dies dancing in the maze.

 

 

Misery pronounced from

                        The saga of a pointless sky

A life lost in

                         The eyes of passersby..

19 strings to Bliss

Only if I could pen it down while still watching the Saatvik Veena play. Guys, one could only say its wine to the ears and spirit to the soul .

This time it was organized by the students our tribal school- the most wonderful gathering one could expect. Shri Salil V.Bhatt was on Veena and accompanied by Shri Mahendra Dangi over Tabla.

Does greatness come from excellence or vice versa…? I over trying to solve this egg-chicken riddle while he patiently explained the basics of swar, raagas to attentive students there.The raag he played that day was raag ‘Nat Bhairav’, one of the morning raagas, hidden in the strings ready to create a cosmic commotion in all of us.

The story of creation, as is began again with the strings of the Veena. Its a pure rhythm, a spring of ‘nirmal jal’, a devine resonance. Once pulled a string, it resonated for around 15-20 seconds… could you believe that! It justifies its name. While he was playing it and doing that so well those are few moments when respect for ‘manhood’, for men reaches the zenith.. I had even started thinking that ‘only a Man could play so well’…

Hey, could say no less for the tabla, when it joined her, there was a shower of tunes. It was like the beatiful yearning of an angel , (determined to complete the cycle of creating) Veena , now had a duo to dance hand in hand. Both of them so fertile, so pure yet so free and totally in sync.. like God had a partner now..

Simply putting it, we pride in taking work as worship.Think of these patrons of art, for whom ‘worship is work’ because it sounded no less than worship; an additional prayer is just a formality.

mmmm .. Hope I could play it too.. Jus citing an incident, One day I was very off and low when i picked up a friend’s guitar and started playing it. First slowly and then fast, puttin in my own random tunes , wild at heart but focussed on strings. When i finally stopped ,after about 1/2 hour, I felt great relief, a calmness in me, a new me…

Moral …?If random plucks of a string cause so much positive vibration imagine the beauty of the conscious of such maestros- Its a life worthy dying for & worth living.

Wish You Were Here..

Y sneak from behind the woods ?

when your lady

waits on the Road

the road through the Woods..

on the dark road

With the door open.

Open though for you,

the worst of the World

the dust, the heat

burn her, haunt her

trickle the blood

of Lust, of Pain..

Oh sweet dilemma ..

that honeyed Torment

sitting on  the Edge

the sceptre of Vengeance

thy arrows through me

So killing

so craving

so moving

so yearning

that butterflies Fly away..

When she goes down

and dies her Heart out

The dragons shall Sneak in

and

the Woods shall Burn…..