Monday, October 12, 2020


In what supplication
I took rosary
of revolving planets 
Counting its beads;
Searching in between
its stretching silence
the extension of my prayers, and
Still could not get hold of His image.
Luring on me -
No use turning an owl eye
to all our wants 
Slithering in the dark, and
then flapping!

Feel of my heart


Even if I am meagre of resources
to offshoot my helping hands
For Kerela flood victims

Even if my books won't sell
As the bane of my language
In lieu of monetay relief for God's own country

Even if I am not sturdy built 
To stop the flooding water, from
Entering into the houses 

Even if I minor my worth 
Worthless that I am
From angle to edges 

I donate my
Whole month's salary
For the immediate need of the crying heart 



What shadow is this
Rolling so smoothly
Over the steps of a temple 

How mystic of your Azaan
from the minarets -
The mosque started following you 
in direction of bells 
Jingling a nod 

By what light 
You melt, without a smoke;
A 'diya' still burns 
inside my inner sanctum 
Welcoming you 
Heart to heart


Father, O my mother!
The first alphabet that
You taught me to write in my nascent years of my growing -
holding my hand, lovingly and firmly between my fingers
on a four ruled lines of my blank copy 
Have, now taken a hold of your hands 
in your old age, sagging and brittle
Ushering me towards your
Eternal wisdom 
Supple and most beautiful -
A cursive handwriting spooning a feed 
Silver to my wishes, showering all your golden blessings


What is this 
of your white smoke -
An apparition 
Creeping out
from the pyre
Towards the skies

Do you have an affinity
Towards bonding -
Helical to heaven and Earth 
A long array of 
Planetary caravan, are seen
Marching in respect 


What deafness 
layered on me 
A storm came in a jiffy, and mutely
Bundled me away 

What wants, you love
by running your time
As you gave space
to my vastness

By what pretension
You live on my last breath
As you blow whistle 
Through my bone marrow 


I am not an enemy of you
What made me restless, was
The heart of a thorn, that sipped
All my blood, and 
Started roaring a smile atop -
Rose buds began to bloom,
from deeper wounds of my heart