Why does one want to know about the author? It is the writings that matter. But if my words have held your attention and aroused your curiosity about who wrote them, then I may as well say a few words about myself.
I belong to the middle class, which makes me feel I hang between two worlds that grab the world’s attention, so I can retain some anonymity in saying what needs to be said. I stay in the national capital region of my country, but have spent much of my life in smaller cities. I hold a Master’s degree in English Literature, and can communicate effectively in three Indian languages. I love these languages, and their words and their nuances influence me enormously in subliminal ways when I write in English. Music is a dominant influence, and it gives me my moments of ecstasy, happiness and peace. I yearn for the beauties and splendour of Nature, immured as I am in the confines of concrete and glass.Â
Why is our earth getting so war-ridden?
Isn’t there any answer out there hidden?
But we keep on asking again and again
Like some parrot that has gone insane,
Yet knows what sought is outside cage.
So do we, if we could but turn the page.
I am a migrant,
Wife n children
I live in my tent
They in heaven
I drink no water
Eat a little grain
The virus will, sooner or later, play itself out
We repeat that, in spite of that nagging doubt.
In the meantime, it will take some of us along
Whether or not we have done anything wrong.
The game of life has ever played out like that
Sickness will always pick some out of the hat.
This present strain is blind, and is hungry too.
Social gap, washing hands, all that we can do.
You are on the highway, crouching over the wheel. And your car is hurtling down the centre of that dotted white line. The miles are racing away, captured by the minutes changing in slow rhythm on your watch.
Vantage Rock lived up to its name all right! Gaunt rock, pervasive in panorama. Stark and sheer rock. Peaked crags that grabbed the first rays of the sun and wrapped them round their flinty heads.
One day a sparrow came, alighted on my balcony railing
I, behind stirring curtains, saw her settle down, was glad
That of all the houses standing together, she chose mine.
To rest awhile, and with darting eyes take a second wind.
She saw me, and I knew she would take wing if I blinked
Yet I could not help, but she stayed perhaps a little tired
Kings and Kin’ is a collection of fairy tales for grown-ups.
Surprised? That’s because these tales can be best understood and enjoyed by them. Not that children can’t read them of course, or have them narrated. If I have written true, they too will like them. These stories are based on common themes, but deal with them in a manner that can provide food for further thought.
A king so busy, that he seals the most remarkable bargain to gain more time to serve his people. A peddler who exchanges joys for sorrows, with the most intriguing results! A king who decrees that his people must always wear happy faces, and is at last brought face to face with the futility of his law. A king who is challenged by a dwarf, and comes to realize that he may not be the tallest in the kingdom.Â
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When old dogs call it a day, go away
And finally reach, who knows where?
Some of them are quite likely to say.
Rather stay with my folks down there.
If that cannot be made to transpire
The Lord may stretch a point for us.
Tania had always been at the top of her class, even after shifting from a neutral system of grades to an aggressive one of ranks. In the new arena, a few girls jousted bitterly every year for the pinnacle with ill-concealed ferocity that crackled with venom and was spat out sporadically in dour confrontation.
This year, Tania had set a taut mouth to the task, juggling with both inspired and slog work. Despite a slightly distressed demeanour after the math test, she looked smug enough for the top spot. That evening, when I heard a hail of footsteps in the hallway, and in a swirl of pigtails, she was lodged breathless in my arms, I knew she had beaten her rivals. Probably by the slenderest of margins, which makes triumph all the sweeter.
i walked my land in wonder,
and all along the way,
i saw a thousand faces
or more, throughout the day
i prayed to God in a hundred
temples, mosque and church
Why is our earth getting so war-ridden?
Isn’t there any answer out there hidden?
But we keep on asking again and again
Like some parrot that has gone insane,
Yet knows what sought is outside cage.
So do we, if we could but turn the page.
I am a migrant,
Wife n children
I live in my tent
They in heaven
I drink no water
Eat a little grain
When the flags of freedom fly
They surely must evoke
Visions of that valiant tribe
Who fought to break the yoke.
When the songs of freedom sound
They surely call to mind
Thorns they took away with them
The flowers they left behind.
Somebody recently said that Felix is my pet
That’s because she hadn’t met the beagle yet.
Or else, she surely would have clearly seen
How badly mistaken she had actually been.
A little study of the domestic order of the peck.
Would’ve revealed the collar around my neck.
Two children fought hard on a street
Neither would give up, beat a retreat
I intervened, and gave one my hand
Other went down, soon bit the sand
Gave other hand to wipe those eyes
Doled false hopes, soothed with lies.
There are just twenty of them, would you believe!
The rest are restrained, why not allowed to leave?
Maybe the score bears numberless grains of rice
To fill million stomachs, a little left over for mice.
Divine intervention? So meagre is thy daily bread
To seek pardon for trespass on so many left dead.
Madam Miss, welcome to my beloved land
Thank you for buying all of my humble fare
But that is about the most that I could spare
What is left, not enough to hold in my hand.
What is that you are asking, I could not hear?
My home? Yes, I would much like you to see
The virus will, sooner or later, play itself out
We repeat that, in spite of that nagging doubt.
In the meantime, it will take some of us along
Whether or not we have done anything wrong.
The game of life has ever played out like that
Sickness will always pick some out of the hat.
This present strain is blind, and is hungry too.
Social gap, washing hands, all that we can do.
One day a sparrow came, alighted on my balcony railing
I, behind stirring curtains, saw her settle down, was glad
That of all the houses standing together, she chose mine.
To rest awhile, and with darting eyes take a second wind.
She saw me, and I knew she would take wing if I blinked
Yet I could not help, but she stayed perhaps a little tired
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