A Pilgrim’s Prayer

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Mount Neelkantha in the Himalayan Range

Burnt orange is slowly changing into a dazzling white while I remain hidden mesmerized in the dark shade that the Himalayas offer me. Tourists abound here, clicking and letting out soft sound of wonderment. I am not a tourist now. I am a pilgrim. The Indians, the Hindus mainly have tendencies to build temples and worship in such lofty places and pilgrims flow like the Ganges or the Alakananda towards them.

 

Before visiting the temple I also let out my soft prayer to the Almighty to let the mountain survive, thrive with the flora and fauna that it used to have those days when pilgrims trudged miles after miles without the least care for their comfort, risking their life and were blessed by the generosity of the Himalayas for you don’t know when suddenly a pristine fountain would pop up and quench your thirst and fruit laden trees would feed you so that your dry food stock would not exhaust fast. I also prayed that it might be saved from unscrupulous visitors making it a perfect litter bin. But who is listening?

 

A yellow beaked crow

Takes lone flight to winter sky

Like a pilgrim’s sigh

 

River Alaknanda flowing side by side

River Alakananda

 

Posted for Haibun Monday – Free For All @ dVerse hosted by Hayesspencer

The Catch: A Cherita*

The Ganges is a slender crescent here.

 

 

A stray Shushuk** swims fast

towards its lost pod.

 

 

To the delighted fishermen,

today’s catch

seems surprisingly heavy.

 

*Cherita is a poetic form [1-2-3] of three stanzas telling a story. The first one has one line the second, two and the final stanza has three lines. Cherita is a Malay word for story/tale. This form was created by al li 

 

**Shushuk is the local name for Ganges dolphin

 

 

This is my first attempt at a Cherita. I’m inspired by our dear friend Celestine Nudanu  (Reading Pleasure) who writes them beautifully.

 

 

Posted for Poetry Pantry #363 @ Poets United

Mask

 

‘she has often seen a cat without a grin but never a grin without a cat’ — Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland

 

Pretend with a smile

than snarl

at some incorrigible, halfwit

that can’t be redeemed to cerebral grace.

Even if blood boils in rage,

cells holler for counterstrokes,

create tender moments with diplomacy.

Be a Cheshire Cat.

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Masks @ Poets United

Windows

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They are the windows

of my soul.

I always keep them open

to let in

Fragrant Mother Earth

in all Her caprice.

She dancingly rises

in Her butterfly wings

from the potted blooms below

just to touch my old cheeks.

I keep one or two

thunders or a few raindrops

in my heart as Her gift.

I am often that single palm tree

still growing taller

watching the winks of that emerald eye

lying lazily in all her fluidity and

I never miss to look in

at the mysterious human ‘me’

inside the tiny apartment

who is birthed everyday anew

beside the ceiling to floor windows

looking out.

 

 

Posted for dVerse Poetics ~ Looking Out / Looking In hosted by Lilian

In Times of Hatred

 

 

While this land

wears the look of gore

with all the killings,

lynching,

lambasting,

blame-game

going round

like a ticking clock,

and all my words

flee in shame,

the blue above puts on a dark gray shade

and the summer melts into rain.

 

 

Posted for Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

Movement

 

I have walked away from the days

that beat like hummingbird wings-

 

and opted for life in the slow lane

to be one of those garden snails.

 

The mind like a long billed sailfish,

or a cheetah races nevertheless-

 

in the oceans, forests of words

to cup some sunup, petrichor moments.

 

Posted for my Midweek Motif ~ Movement @ Poets United

Names Matter Sometimes

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Amir Timur / Tamerlane SOURCE

 

If you are a celeb of this land

and keep your baby’s name

in the name of that dreaded Timur of Persia

you are likely to set evil eye on yourself.

Yet this celeb couple did just that.

Imagine the aftermath!

All on a sudden this ember of a name

was the cynosure of all eyes.

A huge carrion flower popped up

out of void as it were

for all those scavenging insects

starving since eons.

How they were lured

by the corpse-smell of a name!

What a feast of blitz they had!

Such barbecue of spoken words

with the spice of insolence!

Well, as of now,

(thanks to the paparazzi

secretly stationed outside the baby’s home

to snap his every public outing

and vowing oodles of scoops)

the name Taimur is synonymous

to adorable, sweet, charming, winsome etc. etc.

The same public

that went berserk over the Muslim name

now cannot handle

the overloaded cuteness of it.

‘What’s in a name type’ of luxury

can’t be afforded in a country

where divisive politics rules the roost;

where illiteracy is bliss;

where dark age is just a step away;

where dream has taken leave

giving room to nightmare.

 

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Taimur Ali Khan with mom Kareena

 

Posted for Poetry Pantry #361 @ Poets United