All posts filed under: Travel Poems

Singing the uhuru burn

The case of chasing sun a fat girl wedded to life singing the uhuru burn what will remain of this world continuity and creativity in uncle hassan’s sleep losing his spirits walking away from his favorite tree her signs his silence her future poetry a journey to the stone country on top of a bus with Jews kiss less day Taiwan’s highway Terminal eating Imagining an Adivasi cinema Translated museums is bad hand writing freedom? Freedom from brain First the god will die and soon men. Love, like living is commerce and commerce is time and time in the case of the chasing sun that fat girl who wedded to life kept singing the uhuru burn

Lovers

His year began with a cold shower last valentines morning, of course it was February, of course it was cold. For many years he dismissed the love day by saying valentines’s mother was a pagan and did not believe in Christ herself, rather was in love with a tree outside her home. So he would love a tree that stood outside their home. She would rebel even thinking about going outside and say I detest this urban theatre. Every one is a clone of the other. Look a likes inside outside. He left mother for school where he found children crushing and tearing a chit that was given to them to call their parents. Later the painter came and looked at the plant pots and said no. They cannot be done. Twenty five years had passed. Then one day somebody complained about the school running in the park of a society. The notice came and school was shut. On the closing day school organised a reunion inviting all the ex parents where they served them …

Mother is like light in life’s darkness

In the paralyzing times of helplessness, while doing nothing; close your eyes. Think of water, a river. And if possible become it. Shiva was eyes wide open in all directions. The destructive eye opened inwards. We went to pataloka to touch him in dim light and later ate spice. Darkness is the birth place of all creations. A child becomes in the dark. The lights glows the most in the dark. Mangla, the cow is pregnant. One big similarity, between a woman and a cow is that both take nine months before their child comes out in the wild. One of many reasons why the living civilisation considers cow as mother.

Arrival of the ancient mountains

In the night a train came. In it was an engine sleeping above Maharaj. So loud was his snore that I started going from bed to bed but to only kept get up enquiry after enquiry. In the morning as the sun rose, Aravalis were seen passing. Winters seemed gone, the moment I poured ground water on my head at four in the morning in February. A mountain starts from behind the ashram. And holds in him a panther they call Jacky. Jacky is popular and so much that he has come in the premises for if the cows go munching in the night. Me and Maharaj went to the Hinglaj temple and sang songs for two hours after we had food. I saw mangla while coming down and went near her to comb her stomach. During that time I learnt few new things about shukra and shiva, Shani and Vikramaditya. There is one Banayan, one neem, a library and enough blankets under the open sky. Rathore’s Kuladevi is Mata Nageahwari. Lights are out but …

A date with Pluto at Bijli Mahadev

Lets start from where we ended. For twenty-seven nights, I was the only one living in a wooden balcony that hung facing the jungle on a whole mountain. The moon that I saw on the forehead of a mother in the town, i saw a similar one on my lover. But her eyes were set against the only window the first night. Pink walls. She told me she wants to scream. Now! I said. She smiled. Fire. She kept looking in my eyes and started screaming. I closed my mouth. I opened my eyes. It was winters. It was cold. And you know when it is winters and when it is cold how heavy the rains hit. It confuses the heart. It was sunny next day. Pluto arrived. Nara, let’s go meet the man who sneezes forty times. He does that once daily. We left the two limping dogs behind. It was a beautiful walk. We reached. We sat outside Daulat Ram’s home in his garden on uncomfortable plastic chairs. An old brown cow whose …