blind

beliefs that are in the air
arguments that are not grounded
to not question and how
to not reason and out of mind
signing up for the falling
flowing into the herd
following other voices
or just one such
sleeping through the time
drugged to be happy
masked by the false
fooled by the mass
ignoring self
....
....
....


--
Srik

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winter drizzle

tis' drizzling outside

on a peak winter Thursday night

am sitting numb inside

waiting badly for the moonlight

there's a lonely tree outside

seen through a fog covered streetlight

am peeking through the window side

but dogs are not in my sight

tis' very cold outside

rain drops are frozen in the light

and even birds decided to hide

leaving me in alone in the night

Srik

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Kat'ha

Kat'ha

Chi chec chikor tui
bae bak bareal lay
kha thu bhom bei kui
ciay ples badam tay

bas bho serp thari
mei gympa tori satay
phet hum biyo vami
jaja jaja hola groy

la'la fraco poiu bampa
you na you ha you ja
ni ni mai hagi kampa
bal bali kati lama ya

vabi bhi dash dashi
giypo jari lanka bhel
nume bavi zorba haki
qiqi porta numba hesel


~ Srik

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be free

you see things
the way they are
you observe them
the way they work
you notice something
that is odd, different
you move on
and ignore the odd
or you panic
and shoutout
you never question
what why and how
you don't know

and you want it fixed 

but you don't want to know

and be free?

Srik

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silhouette of a wild flower

out in the wild, in search of a wild flower 

dry and humid, in the hot summer weather

walking in the woods of spring colored trees

hearing the music of honey smeared bees

truly a wonder to see the colorful blossom

down in the valley, a wild flower in bloom

singing birds play in the nature's palette, and 

orchids look magical in the evening's silhouette 

Srik

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it's raining

ah, I hear it coming
with thunder and lightning
oh! monsoon has arrived
magically how season changed

breaking from the summer heat
umbrellas are out, getting wet
rain coats hanging on the walls
from the roof, water just falls

I am sitting quiet, in the dark
seeing the clouds turning black
there is silence everywhere
and moon is found nowhere

fallen trees on the flooded streets

blown away by crazy winds

rain drops on the window glass

first glimpse of evening moths

its interesting how seasons switch
transforming the landscape, rich
tomorrow will be a new day
and yet another rainy day

Srik

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always there

the day I first spoke to you

you never sounded like a stranger

you were the first person, rather

to make me feel happier 

you created a zone of comfort

not only that I wanted, but also

that I lacked when I joined here

you picked me up by making you hear

you called me during mornings

to ask me what’s going on

I happily answered your calls

and turned my good days on

I shared with you all that I did

of my crazy hikes or biking trips

you asked me if I really did what I did

including my half decent camera clicks

you empowered me to do more

and asked me to share with you more

you shared about it with your peers more

and made me meet people more and more

we met face to face on a fewer occasions

(precisely seven times in six years)

we’ve had hearty laughter on various things

and I always looked forward to such occasions

you always cared for your team

comforted us on many concerns

you were restless when something happened

and you ensured we’re all safe

I enjoyed listening to your stories

of your trips and vacations

I admired your thoughtfulness

of a wonderful life at large

I am amazed by what you are

a being in his wholeness

and people around you will always say

you’re always there…

Srik

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missing rollers

roller couple lived on a tree
displaying their bright blue colors
flying around here and there
at times on the tree, or on the wire

every time I see them, life was on a pause
I used to visit them very often,
and wait for their flight (a colorful sight)
pause for a while, and make my day

I knew them for five years
they hardly knew me, not anymore
many people stop there, but who cares
some see them or just pee, ignoring them

it was an interesting story, always
for me to tell visitors on my bike
they lived those moments, fully
knowing something new, worthy

once I stopped and tried calling them
they ignored me and just flew away
their world is different, perhaps
much better than mine

on a bright sunny summer day,
I noticed the roller was lonely
perhaps, its partner flew away
or something bad happened?

I visited again after a long time,
waited for the bird for sometime,

tree was lonely, so was the wire,

I had to moved on without any luck

no luck for me since several visits
I return sad without seeing them
no idea where they've gone
or where they're living

or not?
they're missing for sure!

Srik

roller is a bird ~ it is called as Indian Roller

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holding breath

tis' that moment, when time stands still
just before the big day, I eagerly await

taking over the task, surely tough enough
of all the hard work, in an endless search

restless mind, a recalled experience
empowered within, with an eye outside

recovering from the lull, clouds turned white
to open the door, when the chance knocked

jiff of happiness, writing the future notes
freezing on the sigh, a big day in anticipation

as it gets closer, there strikes a long pause
fixing me in void, without a plan but to wait

tis' that moment, when time stands still!

Srik

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letter from a little boy

I received a letter from a little boy today
just as good to make my wonderful day
the letter was folded, so was the message
I opened it with much curiosity, and wonder!

as I read the letter, my eyes turned wet
not that it had a picture of a flower in it
or the paper was reused, the way I like it
but also it had a nice little story to be told

I liked the way the boy had written it,
thanking me for a book I gifted him to read
all the letters appeared to be dancing
each had a story, unfolded in style

I am moved by the letter today, really
and I cant thank the boy enough
for touching me with his cute act of
eagerness, to read more stories, of course!

Srik

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right side

time and again, I ask myself
is this the right side?
or am I on the wrong side
for what I neglect seeing things
the way they are and
be a part of it ignorantly
even if I do not want to,
I'm still the cause, yes, I am.
aint know how not to be one
for they keep exploiting nature
and make me a good friend.
while I become a friend myself
what has nature got to do with me?
by the time, I started caring for,
I already feel am losing it
a tree that I started admiring,
is already being cut
or a bird I started loving
is flying away from the planet
or an orchid I began to see
is already fast perishing.
I ask how not to be this
and to reach a point
where I don't feel guilty
and be free for what I love!


Srik

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monsoon call

Clouds are dramatic
the blue sky is behind
I soak in the twilight
of the black and white
tis bright at times
and thunders all around
shadowed roads and
the breeze is wet
moon is peeking through
and the stars are hiding
monsoon is very near
but not a single drop yet
longing to feel it
I walk away from home
in search of the pour
to touch it, feel it
and come back to life

Srik

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the hundred

Excerpt from the book The Element by Sir Ken Robinson

A poem from Loris Malaguzzi underscores this:


The child
is made of one hundred. 
The child has 
a hundred languages 
a hundred hands 
a hundred thoughts 
a hundred ways of thinking
of playing, of speaking.
A hundred always a hundred 
ways of listening
of marveling of loving
a hundred joys 
for singing and understanding
a hundred worlds
to discover 
a hundred worlds 
to invent
a hundred worlds
to dream.
The child has
a hundred languages
(and a hundred hundred more)
but they steal ninety-nine.
The school and the culture
separate the head from the body.
The tell the child:
to think without hands
to do without head
to listen and not to speak
to understand without joy
to love and to marvel
only at Easter and Christmas.
They tell the child:
to discover the world already there
and of the hundred
they steal ninety-nine.
They tell the child: 
that work and play
reality and fantasy
science and imagination
sky and earth
reason and dream
are things
that do not belong together.


And thus they tell the child
that the hundred is not there.
The child says:
No way. The hundred is there.

~~

I guess all those ways that humans can learn are not being taught in schools. They are stealing away all possible ways of learning for the child. School way or No way!

Sad!

Srik

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Summer rain

I stroll on a lonely street
accompanying the summered trees
that they are in bloom colorfully
and some stand tall to the sky
no signs of any bird, or a song
perhaps asleep at this hour long
thunder-lightning all around me
mud and rain, smelled into me
drop by drop turned me damp
and every step made me jump
am I lucky to feel it somehow?
that it ain't rained long for now
and that I miss a night star shine
ahoy! its the summer rain!

Srik

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night

I hear a song
a story perhaps,
and I hear that voice
deep within,
tis' a different feel
taking over me
into its trance
over a farthest star,
reaching me heights
left me awaken
above the ground
so I don't fall,
and here I call
that fear in me
to rest in warmth
for the night
and for me!

Srik

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sweet

oh! I just got to know,
it has to be just that...
perhaps! no option
whatsoever not to be...
and I say to myself
that if sweet is sweet,
so does everything else
and how does it matter
if its more or even less?
and who would even know
that it is not bittersweet?

Srik

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reSet

I know 
its pretty late 
but still 
now that we have reached 7 billion;
we were a mere 3 billion half a century ago
and marching towards 9 billion
in a couple of decades,
that we are exploiting more
and continue to do so
and perhaps
no easy solution
or less readiness 
to face bigger challenges
of warming 
or the crowd out there


I always think,
dream of that button
the same one
you are looking for
to just go and punch it
with full energy to 
reSet everything back to 
normal! 


Srik

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moon

that I know,
I can see moon
I now am easy
to lie to you
that I don't
find anything real
you don't know
that you can
keep it with you
the way you
made love
and me!

Srik

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illumination in sleep

tis' a strange day for the spirit,
breathing cold on a warm mattress
thinking ahead, the time and distance
perhaps here or the world around
eyes gets closed, letting those dreams
to open, never mind the pain
but the stories that are left behind
every breath has a story to be told
and every story has its breath in hold
many are unfinished yet, and some
are now being written in dreams

when the window brightens, the light
slowly moves over the face, like
how sun crawls over the mountains
or like the river flows through the dawn
serene silence all around
I sit comfortably numb on a couch
gazing through the door, half closed
with an unfinished book, open
trying to read the mind, the other side
waiting to hear all the stories, untold
and are getting illuminated in sleep

Srik

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picture

tender and sweet
in my hands
long time past

a feel, a glimpse
i connect to
i still see

the music
and every breath
still that hmmm

the touch
that real one
touched' ...forever

a crazy feat
that made us
frozen 'n me

that joy
was,
and is

to be now
and to be
there


to my self
open now
deep,

a picture
be left
ever 

Srik

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