If the moon be the measure of how far the eyes can see, those that are near, couldn’t ever be more than just a breath away.



A Tale of Two


He stands there
motionless, almost lifeless
rooted to the ground
that he was born from
Head held high
so high
even the clouds
seem like a garland
a pearly necklace
around his conical neck
Bathed by the rain
dried by the sun
a scattered coat of green
some visible crevices
the only sign of his age
each highlighted
by the flattering rays of gold
His character rock solid
amidst the myriad visions
of changing colours
reflections and deflections
of the falling light
on the grandeur
of his physical presence
as the sun travels
across the sky
Crowned by the gods
whom he can almost see
holder of the celestial taps
which never run dry
all the trickles collect
around where he stands
to form the blessed
life giving silvery flow.

Into this canvas
of relative stillness
and repetitiveness
almost from nowhere
she suddenly comes
A force of life
mysterious in appearance
for there is really
none to describe
And for once
the eyes fail to see
what the other senses
can strongly feel
Free in her thoughts
with no ties and no bonds
no borders to bind her
no boundaries to define her
Reaching out with her arms
dancing around him
engulfing him in an embrace
from down to his feet
to higher than his crown
teasing him
to join in a step
singing to him
the song of the winds
gently caressing
his coat of green
till the leaves too
join her in her dance
the waters applaud
with a clapping sound
as they try to rope in
the boring rocks.

With her invisible entry
the picture on the canvas
suddenly seems
to come alive
Yet he does not move
and steadfast stands
seemingly ignorant
of this untamed force
but surely
not unaffected
by her soulful presence
Unoffended by his stupor
she continues her play
he follows her movements
as she twirls around
he feels her energy
and within him
he is moved.
Nothing ever changes
in the way they meet
the parting is always
one sided too
he stays
and she disappears
no farewells
and no tears shed
For she knows
when she returns
he’ll still be there
and he knows
that free as she may be
she will be back
it is a strange bond
shared between the two
And some love stories
neither have a beginning
nor a conceivable end
and that’s how it goes
for this one too –
the tale of
the grounded Mountain
and the free flowing Wind.


An Eye Story

Even when both are open,
they cannot see each other,
However there is no space
between the vision either sees,
Their direction is always the same,
The distance is never felt,
unless reflected in a mirror,
But it’s the scope of their vision
which unites them seamlessly.

The Stream and I

The stream,
I can sit by it
for hours
without a care,
Just watching it,
In its calmness,
In its peaceful flow,
A ripple on a rock
A sip for the bird,
Singing a song
without lyrics,
A vagabond on its own,
From whence it comes
To where it goes,
Neither the pebbles,
nor the life
around it knows,
A calming presence,
Carrying the wisdom
of the mountains,
Allowing me the leeway
Of a one-way conversation,
Some questions answered,
some simply ignored,
And some days when
I am restless,
I trouble it too,
By dipping my hand in,
joined like a giant dam,
Trying to stop it,
hold it, and bully it,
A few laughing ripples
Is all the reaction I get,
And that’s our bond,
Never had the need
to air a complaint,
And I sit and watch
That blessed flow,
Till I feel its peace
soak my soul,
Like the pebble surrounded
by its soothing flow,
I seem to get lost
in a comfort zone,
And in that moment of bliss
I am Me, no more.



Some people come into your lives and fake you down to your soul, and somewhere you realise that that is all that they know. Love, trust, honesty and loyalty are words whose value they never learnt. So you thank them, wave them goodbye, and wish them a pleasant one-way journey out of your life. With no regrets, but purely out of the goodness of your own heart, so that you can breathe what you believe in once again.