Pleasure of Words

Like all the rooms that make up buildings, this too was made of brick and mortar and had a roof. The window on the West captured the green foliage of  the tri-trunk Rain tree. The one on the south overlooked the sewer flowing in sombre silence,and also offered a view of  roofs housing other lives. A being named I  inhabited the Room's space riding the wheels of time in  aimless madness. On many early mornings when sleep still  eluded the weary eyes,  a name-less bird called to say, ' yet another day was born' and woke up the day to life. On the garish days of the year,  black bees pollinated the flowers of bright pink-white hues that dotted the dark green canopy of the  Rain tree. In  late afternoons, as the sun began its descent, through the spaces between fluttering  leaves streaming rays fell on the floor in quivering patterns of light patches modulated by the leaves dancing to the afternoon winds. When the  heat seared t...

What language does the night speak  To the multitude  beings on earthly space,  Wandering like specks of dust in a smoky haze The gleaming moon streaming shiny light Through the windows of concrete rooms Feeds the thirsty soul milky blooms Darkness' drapes unfolding at night's fall Pouring many a deadly glance Enfolds sordid spirits in silent trance Breeze in tender ease flows to hearts Soothing battered bodies on the way Waving its tender hands in magic sway Stars dot the blacky sky  In precarious flicker changing colours Rendering hope  its transient flavours Night does speak  In multitude of words To ears that hear

My Years pass in pinning madness shattered hopes die in bloody bitterness My Days, wander in   somber folly wasteful hours pass in a mindless reverie At dusk, I light the fire of life the smouldering embers soothen my strife In Night's arms, drinking the   darkness gazing the glittering charms I sing   in wilderness My life takes flight to distant horizons freed from its plight Comes the spiteful dawn cracking streaks of light into Body's chambers drowns the spirit's flight If, to see only sorrow's might in absence of light be a boundless night

How many poems! Were written to you... Dissolving my soul into words I smeared it in my sweet angst... Your ugly unkindness lacerated my Being Gathering its shreds... I continue, to 'Be' In nauseating disdain I write, my last word to you: 'You are a mockery of all that is Woman' Words will be written; not to your titillating flesh,but to men and women Whose beauty lies in their intelligence; in their Character; in their fights; not in their made-up looks Turning inward I seek, to realise the Self... In reclusive musing  immersed in, pervasive consciousness

Tumultuous thoughts swirl in mind's commotion Atoms of air stand in still suspension Sans mercy, silence gropes the Suffocating Soul Scorching sun spurred the agony and parched the Being Life's rhythm repeats   in the heart's beat I tug at the beard pull out a thought's shred; inspect its form and pull out another In dreamy thoughtfulness under the cloud's shadow, I rest in the lap of lassitude

Once,  in an attempt to  allow children to give space to children’s questions, I told to ask whatever questions they have in mind. I was bombarded with  a number of  questions and one that stands out in my mind: If humans came from monkeys, why haven’t all monkeys changed to humans? A simple question on evolution, it may seem, but it is the manifestation of the children’s natural willingness to learn. When we studied electricity, students brought the igniting part of the gas-stove lighter which on pressing could light up a small LED bulb; I had thought for years, that the lighter used friction to generate spark, and it was a revelation to see that it was electricity that generated spark.  They not only build boats and rockets using  paper but  create d  a myriad of shapes and structures using paper.  This spirit of enquiry and exploration – using the body and mind – forms an essential part of the learning process and is naturally p...