Bird Watcher


Whenever I tell myself


Let’s look for birds”

they emerge from every corner

of the trees, skies, ponds, lakes-

these miracles of feather-

they are my muse and my songs-

my freedom and my faith-

my storm and my peace-

my virtue and my frailty-

my wisdom and my sky-

my rhythm and my light-

these little miracles of feather

are my soul-

my thirteen ways of life—-


Words in quote are from Pablo Neruda’s Ode To Bird watching

Posted for Magaly’s Midweek Motif ~ Not-so-old-fashioned “Hobbies” Magaly’s Midweek Motif ~ Not-so-old-fashioned “Hobbies” @ Poets United





I miss your visual splendour-

your kohl-eye, telling stories-

your swift pirouettes in the wind-

your enthralling foot-work-

did your ghungroos (anklet) have hundred bells

like the Kathak dancers?

Wasn’t I mesmerized hearing the dance steps

on glossy, green leaves; on metal shades?

the touch of those graceful hands

blossomed Kadam flowers-

your odhni (veil) of cloud

seemed infinite-

where are you my pretty, danseuse?

Have we killed you

like the colonial British trying to smother

the Kathak dance

calling its practitioners ‘nautch girls’; harlots

in contemptuous fun?

In our desert homes

we are missing you sorely-


[Whatever I try to write now it leads to the rain-less days we are living here. So my Kathak dancer is the monsoon here.]



Posted for my prompt ~ Dance @ Poets United Midweek Motif




Monsoon blossoms

Have all lost their aroma

And songs



Since there is no rain

Poet sits with misty eyes

And fragrant memories



Posted for Sanaa’s Midweek Motif ~ Perfume @ Poets United



I find all the ten sun crows

flying about this earth-

there is a fire dance everywhere-

words are aflame burning you and me-

a thousand phoenix taking flight in forests

every day, everywhere-

In every crack of the heart, of the earth,

seeds burn-

water, words, have all dried up-

there is no escape-

last night,

I saw him- dancing on its one leg,

the Shangyang– a rain bird,

no Confucius living now-

will there be a deluge then?


Posted for my prompt ~ Weather @ Poets United Midweek Motif

Away from Home


Well….Umm…I have a home like you all. There’s a terrace promising a sky and greenery. But when I have to leave, say on vacations, I have to leave. It tries to linger in my mind but I simply have to shoo it away. When I’m on train, bus, cars, planes this brick made residence melts away like the last trace of a monsoon cloud in an autumn sky. It’s wonderful to be a free spirit finding a niche in the Himalayas or roaming about the streets of a foreign land where no one knows you.


Yet why is it that I am never a free spirit? Because the other home, Sumanar/Lekha, catches me unaware. Like a transient orca it surfaces from nowhere and punts me high up into the moments of uncertainty and gobbles me up. As a hapless seal I am inside its body and see nothing but Words.


Lofty mountains transform into rocky nouns. Oceans wave into crazy verbs while I deck green Singapore with oodles of adjectives. Reality and dream merge in words. I realize the whole universe is nothing but words I cannot escape from.


Yet there are moments: Your whole being is sore; you breathe tears; your soul’s smouldering; your mind’s unhinged; you cannot undo grief. A numbing feeling snaking up the spine whispers you are far away from Home. You are a mere wayfarer traveling from birth to birth seeking Home. So ‘The ache for home lives in’ my being and I have become a seeker.




Posted for Magaly’s 5th Pantry of Prose @ Poet’s United. I turned one of my old poems (Abode) into a new piece with 251 words.