How does the ghee taste?

It tastes like the ghee.

The buttery content,

the delicious aroma,

the golden color,

the heavenly touch

is purity itself.

In the world of Indian cuisine

ghee is the ruling monarch-

if I time travel to our ancient times

over five thousand years ago-

I would still find rishis and sages

performing fire rituals

with ghee-

mantras, aromatic and fiery

rising above

radiating blessings

to the trees, rocks, rivers, mountains,

to all life forms-



Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ The Food We Eat @ Poets United




Your words are the buzz-song

of a bee-

dripping sweetness unto

my tattered soul-

I have morphed into

a thousand honeycomb

holding your nectar-

this world isn’t all honey-

when it stings I sing your forever song

to be lifted up, to fly

with my newly grown wings-


Posted for my prompt Honey / Bee @ Poets United Midweek Motif



The Ganga begins her journey here at Devprayag


We never remained vigilant

So we let thunderous waves

of foreign invasions-

crush us-

we were looted-

got ourselves


now look at the confluence

of Bhagirathi and Alakananda

where the beautiful Ganga comes alive-

we are still not vigilant-

so we let the turquoise Ganga weep

till She is noir

before She pours Herself into the sea-




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

But All Must Be Endured


But all must be endured, since even a poor

soul too is made of fire and ice-

while a part of me gets dismantled in silence

the other half keeps gathering my shards to

       go on living.


My frenzied heart seeks the god mesmerized

by your honeyed words-

I hold my tongue that craves to expand its hood

       at mere sight of you-


your tinkling laughter at sweet nothings

sets my voice to fume;

yet I compel it to devour a sacred silence

      to burst forth in words later-


While you make the god to look into your eyes

a flame in me runs wild

to dip my spirit into a black fluid; to make

      your god my muse-


My poem is a response to Sappho’s apparently incomplete poem : In my eyes he matches the gods




Posted for Sanaa’s Wild Friday @ Poets United

Looking at Stars


The radiant question mark of seven stars

leaning on me

has breath and voice of my father-

“Look, there’s the Saptarshi Mandal,

asking you if you knew the Sapta Rishis?”

said he one night-

“Of course, I know, they are the seven sages

blessing us-

their smile is the light”-

my father let me be happy

with whatever fairy-tale knowledge I had

of Great Bear Constellation-

since that day

I grew a bond with this star-cluster

that held me, my father and the Indian myth together-



Posted for my prompt ~ Looking at Stars @ Poets United Midweek Motif



Glory is half ‘this’ and half ‘that’-

‘this’ dwells in the Buddha heart-

empires go on building-

a laurel in war is won-

red poppies cover the earth-

so now is the time

when ‘that’ wears the crown

and “The ceremony of innocence is drowned.”


Words in quote are from “The Second Coming” by W.B. Yeats



Posted for my prompt ~ Glory @ Poets United Midweek Motif



In the House of Knowledge

past breathes-

once it took hold of my hand

and walked me through time-

from bronze age to the present-

my feet refused to move

when I saw Samudragupta ((320-380 A.D.)

looking at me from his gold coin-

the walls of the Bhuvaneshwar Museum,

this world-

faded away at the twinkle of his eyes-

only the compassionate king and I remained-

‘dust away the time’s crumb

of my military exploits-

I was a poet and a musician too’-

I hold this dear reverie

in my core to date-




Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif Museum/s @ Poets United


Negative Attitude


Once I was asked to write an obituary about someone I adored a lot. She was a school teacher and lived in the same building of my parents’ apartment. She loved my mother very much. When I was given the job by the secretary of the housing society I was a bit hesitant at first but accepted the request and set to do my work.


Tough part of the job was it wasn’t supposed to be an official obituary. Rather a homage in a meaningful way to convey her personality, her impact on her family, and the world around her.


I tried to make it personal and also decided to do away with the fog of grief and flowery phrases. But when it was read out in the meeting much was changed without my knowledge. Was it my writing at all? The spirit was not there.


I didn’t react but fumed within and wasted much of my energy in doing that. I did let my ego hurt so easily. Later on I was ashamed to think that I was that fragile. It wasn’t even a direct negative criticism. May be the editor preferred high-sounding phrases and replaced some of the words and sentences. May be even the vital ones. If some people choose to be impertinent why should I suffer?


Vituperative outbursts are a very common feature in social media. What about in blogs? I am very fortunate to be surrounded by thoughtful, accommodating and amiable fellow bloggers. I haven’t come across any negative comment full of spite and bitterness so far. A blog is your sweet home where you entertain your visitors with words. But…there is a ‘but’. When you comment on someone’s work and your visit is not reciprocated day after day it begins to hurt your feeling. So once you are aware of the writers’ character trait, instead of harboring resentment and anger towards them it’s best to avoid such negative personality and attitude. I try to follow this rule.


Posted for Magaly’s Moonlight Musings: the Interactive Edition, #1 @ Poets United.



When truth looks on you on-screen

it is devastating-

it numbs your ears, eyes-

your taste buds die-

but come the ornate lie-

you are suddenly

robbed of your senses

and begin to feel, why,

nothing is wrong with the world-

peace is hanging from every tree-

you have a good night’s sleep-

when you wake up

you find the world resting in peace-




Posted for my prompt ~ Televised @ Poets United Midweek Motif