My Roving Brain

My Roving Brain

For K. Azz. on her Birthday


“Happy, happy wishes for you, my friend…”
Sings a voice from inside my roving brain,
another wails like a time ravaged soul,
“But will you and have we ever be old?”


I thought I had killed both Prometheus and his dreams,
long ago and buried them deep down the rocky ground
that I thought my mind and heart had become, but woe
they were only suspended in a cryogenic sleep!


“Have they begun to stir now from their slumbering?”
Yet another voice asks, inside my head,
in harmony with the song, still being sung,
“… and wishing many many joyous returns,
may your thoughts grow wiser still with each day,
but may your heart remain forever young…”


Meanwhile, a thousand more voices, both low and high,
keep voicing their own concerns, not in whispers though
but each trying to have the floor only for itself,
trying to be the lone voice that can be heard.
Sometime one succeeds and I hear a word or two,
mostly though, it is just a noise, both pure and white.


Then Prometheus opened his large and dreamy eyes,
and the world knew, this god-man who had brought fire down
to the succeeding rulers of earth as their crown,
was much, much less troubling than his insolent dreams.
(It was one of those that made him do what he did,
to coronate humans as future queens and kings.)


“What! He walks now? Kill him! Kill him!” cries another,
shrieking like a spinster, one too many times wronged.
“Kill him! Kill him now, I say, before he can come
and make you like him with a bare touch!” She carried on.


Then I could hear his footsteps in my head,
approaching me, the sound was drawing near.
I could not help but shrink, being too afraid,
for I had dreamed before and met its sneer.
Suddenly I caught a flash, wheezing by;
was it a real spear thrown by Death himself?
Perhaps it was all a dream, a figment
of my restless imagination, soaring high,
so high, the sun has melted its feathers down
and now it must fall to its uncharted grave!


The silence that followed was far more deafening!
All the voices stopped and their complains too,
even the one singing to my friend took a pause,
that was not what I had thought in the beginning!


In that silence I realized the footsteps,
I had shrunk from in my fear for the coming days,
was ringing no more through the corridors
of my roving brain. I grew wary for the man.
In desperation I searched all over the realm
of my thoughts for mighty Prometheus and his dreams;
all in vain! No body was found and no blood stains!


Nevertheless, the silence made me look outside,
past the grid of iron bars on my balcony
and the sky was silver blue from the glowing moon,
the wind smelling fresh from few recent bouts of rain.


And at last, a single voice, the one that sang, resumed
singing the remainder of the song to my friend.
The melody filled my heart with a light again,
“We are what we are not despite but because of
our ways, unfit, perhaps for our time or this place,
perhaps there is a grander scheme, or there is naught!
Still we must fight each day and night, with blood and tear –
growing stronger than we were yesterday.
I wish you may find courage in these humble, rugged lines
my dear friend, to blossom anew each and every year!”


Buying Liberty With Life

Buying Liberty With Life

I bought liberty at the cost of life.
For the freedom to close my heart and eyes
on the glittering brightness of the world,
I said adieu to my remaining days.


Not necessarily though, I have died;
if one could proclaim, to breathe is living
and breaths stacked on laborious breath is life!
Do we only die with our final breath?


The desire to live is a common thing,
found in all life, static or on the run
and the desire to grow and replicate
but if that is so than from the moment
of my birth I have been barely alive,
for the ever gnawing emptiness, lodged inside!


Name Dropping : An Ode to Blindness

Name Dropping : An Ode to Blindness

Is it sad, unfortunate or downright ironic,
that despite all, my words, deeds and thoughts
seemed insincere and ridiculous in your eyes?


Yes I am a jester, a motley fool,
whining like a gadfly, a hunchbacked descendant
of Tiresias, Abelard, Hamlet, Faustus, Quixote,
Descartes, Rousseau, Adonis and the Fisher King
who sadly became a cross in between
J. Alfred Prufrock and Bernard Shaw;
a ridiculous mix on any page of history!


Or perhaps the faults do not lie
in my stars, as I have so far claimed
but with the peculiar instance of time
a crossroad that is yet to be named,
when the world in general, has grown to be
fond of summarily ridiculing sincere thoughts!


A Godly Descent

A Godly Descent

Guess, I wanted to be a god in my previous life!
I, a mere mortal fool, with the audacity
to desire an abode and everlasting peace
atop Mount Olympus, Kailash, Fuji, Sinai
or any other name one calls it in their mother’s tongue!


In the beginning, like a proper fool, I thought,
I was destined to become the winged god of Love,
until I saw, two things were missing from the scene –
the bow and those little, sweetly poisoned darts, dipped in
the wild passion that proudly runs through his fair mother’s veins!


If I must have a bow, I thought, why not the best,
so I set my eyes for Apollo’s golden one;
for the next while or two, it seemed to work – the pen
despite its sheer lack of potency came alive
until the very dream woke me up and muttered, good night!


Now I rule the fiery pits of hell, though not as Hades
but a mere mortal one, setting his future bed of nails,
still dreaming of a Prometheus unbound, to bring some light
unto the dark world and succeed where this mortal fool has failed!


Wrapped In A Dream

Wrapped In A Dream

The rancid realization clings to life,
that most of it is predefined by things
way beyond its own mere grasp, like the borders
of its origin and inheritance!


What can a life do about whence it came?
This life that responds to a certain name,
with certain aspirations held inside
a thick shell of skin with eyes, ears and limbs
and the face of a wanderer was born
with nothing, in nowhere, to oblivion!


Could it have settled down accepting the accepted norms?
But it’s way too late to wonder what could have been,
this river in spate has almost run its due course,
let this spent life pass its remaining hours wrapped in a dream!