Tuesday 22 June 2010

Moved To Wordpress :)

Hello Friends!


I have officially moved my blog to Wordpress!! I hope you will drop by at my new blog I, Me, Myself... Thanks a lot for the time and constant support here! Indebted to everyone of you! Thanks a lot :)

Love,
Sashu!

Sunday 13 June 2010

Who do I choose to be - Radha or Meera?














Who does the earth
Find me to be;
Sown inside the person
I am-
Chaste Meera or
His Radha?

The world sang of
Radha Kishen,
And I basked in the glory
Of the love
That never had any tint
Of a blemish
Visible.
But beneath the powdered
Dreams, I knew,
Radha bled.
Her soul belonged to him,
But wife-
She adorned another's
Title to herself.

Meera, most often
Was forgotten.
Her music spoke of
Love.
Viscous, it poured out
Leaving one
Hollow, deep.
Forever unrequitted,
Her love remained.
Like those empty words
Of mine,
You never tried to-
Let be.

Radha or Meera? I had to
Choose.
I wondered why,
And I wondered why not.
I could be Meera for
Him. But his Radha, I could
Never.
For, the choice
Never was mine.
It had already been made.
Always been made

Wednesday 9 June 2010

...love bites


What is it in love
That can neither let be,
Nor let go?

Why is it that my tears
Never fail to lather
At your feet
And yet, the ache
Mellows with a word
Or a touch, faint.
In the moment after the next,
The smile breaks
And the heart rests
In a placid silence.
Yet, I know,
The ache would resurface
Painting itself a new hue.
And even in the joy
Of the night's passion,
Or the warmth of the embrace
Of your repentance,
It longs for the pain.

My masochist soul
Longs to bleed, to thrive
Off your anger, your hate-
For without this pain,
My love is commonplace;
And I am just another somebody.
Or should I say,
Just another nobody?

Sunday 9 May 2010

Mother


There, across the timeless space

She stood on her own,

Behind a veiled door.


Her eyes, tired

And her face, creased

With worry lines.

Her fingernails, dirty

And her arms had burnt marks

That failed to fade.

She had that forlorn look

That could find no reason,

And her soiled clothes

Though still neatly pressed.

Were drenched in sweat.


Across that flimsy veil,

She seemed miserable,

Ever so.


I wondered if I ought to go

Past the seamless space

And save her soul.

I had no armor, no shield

Yet, I knew I had to-

So delved headlong,

Across the silken barrier

To find her.

Looked around, but in vain.

I found her not.


Maybe too late, I hope not,

I whispered to myself,

With trembling syllables.

Just before I waded back

To the other end of living-

I saw her face.


Her eyes seemed tired,

Yet they twinkled

In joy, that caught my breath

To summersault.

Those crease lines aged her

ever so gracefully,

And never in ceaseless worry.

Her burnt skin smelled of milk

and butter,

Her finger nails were dipped

In colors of life.


I saw her peek a glimpse

Every half of a second

Into the dim-lit room

Right across the table.

I found her smile,

As though nothing could have

Been better, ever.


I walked in

To find out her secret joy-

For, in my eyes,

Nothing she had, could make

Me smile her smile.


And then I saw-

Across the timeless backdrop

A cherubic face, that shone.

Toothless, a smile

Broke away-

And my heart skipped a beat.


I turned back to her-

And I found her bask

In the aura of motherhood.

Humbled,

I drifted back to my world,

Wordlessly.

There was nothing I could say

Or be-

For she was everything -

She was a mother.


- (C) Sashu

09 May 2010

Saturday 27 March 2010

Ugly Nudity

How deep is that
Plastic smile
Of yours, I wonder.
Wouldn't it peel,
Right off your face,
And then, dribble
Unto nowhere,
Leaving you nude-
Every crinkle on your face
mirroring the hatred,
The spite,
That you nurture in your soul-
And in that ugly nudity,
Wouldn't your reflection
Scare yourself?
And then,
Where would you be?

Sunday 14 March 2010

An Ode To A Friend

I could not but be. I know.

I may not awaken to
Each dawn
With your memory-
Yet, not a day
Passes by,
When, forgotten,
You are.

I know, I could not but be.

In every joy, I may not
Wish to call out to you.
But in every tear,
I miss you.
Devoid of your smile,
Your words,
I feel hollow.

I could not but be. I know.

I may not think of you
In a crowd.
But in the solitude of me,
I find that space
Bleeding,
Where only you,
And you could be.

I know. I could not but be.

In the selfishness
Of a moment,
I let go, of you,
And our yesterdays-
To clutch onto
The tomorrows,
I dreamt of.

I could not but be. I know.

This stranger, I am
Today, has lost a friend.
But the friend
That you have always been
Would forever be.
Sorry, I could not be more-
Sorry, I could not but be.

Tuesday 9 March 2010

Languor

Rhapsodical, this music
Of delving headlong
Into the hidden depths
Of you, and me-
Living through this state
Of entangled desires
Laced with molten dreams
Dripping-

Plop!

The ripples grow, seamless,
Dissolving us,
Into a million-pixel portrait.
And the music ebbs away
Pulled under-
As though choking,
Into a breathless rapture.

And as we resurface once again,
Into the placid countenance
Of ourselves-
There seems no haste to chase
The glitter, or swoon to the melody.
Instead, we turn onto our own
Dipping away
Into the comfort of the self.

Yet, in all languor,
This lazy love sustains itself.
And there is nothing
I wish for-
Than, this complacency,
Of knowing-
This is forever to last.

Tuesday 12 January 2010

Debt

There, beyond the days of yore
Lies an urn, of plastered mud
Smoking.
I hold my hands away
Reaching down
To feel the heat.
Plunging into pain has never been hard
For,the crippling childhood scar
Shielding from any molten hurt-
They spread all over
Fuming acidulous blisters.

And then as the cyanotic blues
Strangle me to breathlessness
I peep into the urn,
And I see a reflection of hope-
And I gasp, and choke.
Tart odorous fumes annihilate
The venom of its own kind,
And I resurface,
Swallowing a mouthful
Of air.

Living is often a debt-
Either to life, or to death.

...smile :)


As though barefoot,
Tiptoeing in, with
A mystic silence, eerie;
Waiting to burst forth
Into a pink tickle,
A blossom
Of a blush.
Creeping in
Effortlessly
Without no pretense
And no intricacy,
Easing away
All the worries
Until it broke away
Into a cherubic smile...
...sometimes, life is as simple as it could be!!

Sunday 10 January 2010

If Not For You...!

In The Music Of You,
I Paint A Dream.

As The Symphony Flows Over
Like a brook,
My brush throws in
A myriad of fresh colours.

And Out Of Nowhere,
The reds and blacks and whites
Melt into a silhouette
Of You.

As I Watch Your Eyes Draw In
The music of my brush -
I gasp.

In Your Eyes I Find My Dream,
Dipped in hues I'd never known to exist.
If not for you,
My heart sings out aloud.

If Not For You...!
 

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