What does happiness mean to you?

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Happiness to me is
forgetting binoculars at home,
and finding the need for none.
For the bright bird perched too close and
and whistled a delicate song, privately for me.

Happiness to me is
forgetting my drawing book at home,
and finding a few crisp blank pages
at the start and also at the end
of my new favourite poetry book,
Simic’s That Little Something.

Forgetting my chocolate ration,
and finding a kind co-traveller
who offers me coconut sweet
made in home made ghee
served with a beautiful smile.

Forgetting my playlist at home,
but finding in every stop
buses that played melodies
one after another
filling the moist skies with lovely notes.

Forgetting my worries at home,
and finding the need for none,
no reason to worry about
in these ghats
soaked in rains
and where birds make homes
in dead trees.

Photo taken at Redstone Eco Centre

A simple love poem

Sandakphu

Love,
it never stays.
It comes unannounced though,
like a deep-cut in skin
that seeks your undivided attention,
and hurts you even in your sleep.
You pamper it and you keep it warm, dry and safe –
love is beautiful even when it’s bruised black and blue,
and sometimes bleeding,
and when it hurts.
And when it heals
you don’t want it back,
you don’t remember it.
I loved once, and I was loved
and it stayed with me like a deep cut,
seeking my attention,
and then it was gone.
On days slow such as these,
I tend to remember
a certain sweet kiss,
a tender touch,
warm gaze of eyes on my skin.
But the wounds are all healed,
and I am ready to be in love again.

Cloud Kissed Forests

Poem-1

Photo (Arunachal Pradesh) by Nitin Das, who makes beautiful nature films.
https://healingforest.org/ http://www.filmkaar.com/

As I float above this viridian valley
she awakes to my misty notes of love
She draws the veil
and stretches her limbs,
Oh, your cloud kissed forests
through which flow streams of love
Sometimes I hover,
sometimes I enwrap your forest-scape, pristine.
As I saunter from valley to valley
and hover on your cloud kissed peaks
I fall in love yet again,
with your patterns, your colors
your textures, your music,
even your silence.

 

For life will go on even without us

Dara14
A window that
streams in
your child-like laughter
and soulful songs.
 
The only door
in my house
opens to your light-house
A sweep of glorious white light
to guide my ship
that sails to you
braving high, unforgiving waters.
 
In my dreams
I water my amaranths, wilted and shy,
thinking about carmine roses
that bloom in your garden
 
Step aside for a moment now,
for life will go on even without us
Let’s steal a moment of abandon
and worry about tomorrow
some other day.
(The poem was originally written for a dear friend, Dara Okat. Photo of Dara Okat,2015)

Clearing clutter on a sleepless night

Sleepless

A little prayer whispered in the mind’s wakeful corners.
An experiment, flirtatious meditation
with a winter bird’s feather on my tongue.
Incense lit, it’s fumes inhaled
all the way inside, down to my gut.
Vacant eyes tracing sleep’s shadows.
But my mind’s eyes are lit
and its neuron highways buzzing
like the bullet trains in Tokyo.
Every noise amplified
every detail magnified.
It is on these nights
that memories are re-lived,
they are remade,
classified and archived, boxed,
and some trashed.