O CHILDHOOD

(An August 2010 work, rearranged and rewritten today.)

Sometimes beginning the day with a whisper,
Sometimes with a cry,
Sometimes gaping in the void,
At times beginning it with an innocent invite.

Cruising into the myopic state of your bionic reflections,
Jaded by the hyperemia,
The ephemeral circumvention of the moment,
Drawn away from the routine empirical hysteria.

To the cerebral existence of the self-efficacious creation,
To that fleeting vision,
You never knew when it took you into its embrace,
As you just reacted naturally, like you do always.

The sudden trance that it takes you into,
Away from the oversized clutches of the trite,
Dragging away, disconnected,
Liberating to the elementary momentary amnesia.

There comes a time,
When debates become primordial,
When the need of solutions become unreal.

O childhood,
Why don’t you stay forever transcending me,
To the realms of that fading Ideal.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey - http://severallyalone.blogspot.com

O CHILDHOOD

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

OF CREATING, OF CONVERSING WITH IDEAS..

The sheer joy of these days,
Of creating, of conversing with ideas,
In these labyrinthine alleys of times,
The good life had some best moments.

Travelling deep in thoughts,
Traversing worlds and beyond,
I met life many times all this while,
And sat with many lives all along.

Sometimes, it was dark,
Sometimes, it was illuminated bright,
But always it was a journey inside.

Yes, it was a pleasant sky this weekend,
With clear rains soaking the soul,
As I stood there, in its afterthoughts..

The Lonely Thorns..The Lonesome Curves

OF CREATING, OF CONVERSING WITH IDEAS..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

EVEN IF I STILL BELIEVED IN..

Even If I Still Believed In.

I never knew emotions could have run so cold
I never could have thought so, yes, before it
But I was forced to go through it the last winter
A frosty experience of a long winter
Inflicted on a chilly night on that wily day
Inflicting a blow so heavy that it still rains
Pushing me to dark oblivion of darkened voids
Into a world of deafening heartless voids
Freezing polarity of emotions unilaterally
Freezing insularity of passions mutually
I still remember those numbing words
Words I still find hard to explain in words
Air was tearing into me, slashing me bare
Air that was frigid had come with a message
That life had taken a grey turn with no extremes
And my emotions had to stay put in those extremes
Even if I still tried to believe in my life a day before
Even if I still believed in the layered beauty of winter

EVEN IF I STILL BELIEVED IN..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

ON MY LIPS, PLAYING VIVACIOUSLY..

Well, nothing historical like Roman Elegies in this journey,
But it still has a story that stretches back to the days,
When I used to love its amorphous sharpness.

White, or black, or pink, or yellow, colours adored me,
When you were on my lips, playing vivaciously,
Dipping in me with a tippy playfulness.

Today always waited for tomorrow, in jocular anticipation,
When it will be the time of the day of emancipation,
In unison of us, and your piquant acess.

Having you was always complete and the feeling was so intrinsic,
Penetrating deep, melting in my thoughts at the moment,
That I would have you before all caress.

Scalding or piercing, yes, at times you would intently act so,
But then you had become a tale so personified in my soul,
That I would always look beyond, inside me, for address.

Then suddenly, one day, you told me you had a revelation, for me,
That gone are the days when you used to be mutual with me,
And the piquant was to be bitter now with sullenness.

I didn’t accept that, and like a child’s virtue, I still don’t follow it,
For, what you felt to me, was basic to me, pure and pointed,
Yes, it soured initially, but never in absoluteness.

I know the story is yet to be told, I don’t know how, and when,
The piquant is still not bitter, though is bereft of touch now,
Missing that flavour of life dipped in your playfulness.

Colour Collage 2

ON MY LIPS, PLAYING VIVACIOUSLY..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE

To meet requirements of this assignment on its day-6, I have randomly chosen two poems from a website, ‘All Poetry’ and have tried to come out with something new with the words available. Here they are:

(2) Beauty of Her Face: A sonnet by Dante Alighieri – based on its translation given on the website.

BEAUTY OF HER FACE
(Sonnet)

For certain he hath seen all perfectness
Who among other ladies hath seen mine:
They that go with her humbly should combine
To thank their God for such peculiar grace.
So perfect is the beauty of her face
That it begets in no wise any sigh
Of envy, but draws round her a clear line
Of love, and blessed faith, and gentleness.
Merely the sight of her makes all things bow:
Not she herself alone is holier
Than all; but hers, through her, are raised above.
From all her acts such lovely graces flow
That truly one may never think of her
Without a passion of exceeding love.

Here is my version:

THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE

Among ladies of blessed faith and gentle perfectness
Her face has a peculiar grace, wise and raised above
That all who are there looking holier in her presence
Her humble acts, with passion, beget all to bow behind her
For someone who combines his thoughts on beady with grace
She is Godly holier, her face embodying that perfectness
A flow of love, exceedingly clear and wise, so wisely clear
That mere sight of the sight of her draws a clear line of envy
O God, thanks, for making her beauty so blessed and perfect
With a face that tells me she is alone holier than all..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

I AM OR I AM NOT?

To meet requirements of this assignment of Writing 201 on its day-6, I have randomly chosen two poems from a website ‘All Poetry’ and have tried to come out with something different with the words available (with slight additions). Here they are:

(1) Face To Face: This one is by Rabindranath Tagore.

FACE TO FACE

Day after day, O lord of my life,
shall I stand before thee face to face.
With folded hands, O lord of all worlds,
shall I stand before thee face to face.

Under thy great sky in solitude and silence,
with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face.

In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil
and with struggle, among hurrying crowds
shall I stand before thee face to face.

And when my work shall be done in this world,
O King of kings, alone and speechless
shall I stand before thee face to face.

Here is my version:

I AM OR I AM NOT?

I am face to face before you O lord of all worlds
Or I am not?
With folded hands, day after day, I ask you
But I find my silence still standing behind my solitude

I am or I am not?
Life is filled with hurrying crowds of such thoughts
My heart has been humbled with its tumult
And my face tells the toil it inflicts on me

O King of kings, under and beyond this sky
I am alone and helpless in this laborious world of yours
Struggling with my conscience, my conscience struggling with me
Waiting, when a face to face you will leave me speechless

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

BUT NEVER LET EGO OR CONCEIT ENTER THEIR MIND..

I write regularly and poetry is an important subtext, but though, I love to read, I am afraid (in the context of this requirement of the Writing 201 assignment) that I don’t read poetry that much. – At least that was so before taking this series here on WordPress.

But this one is an all-time favourite. ‘Vaishnava Jana To’ (devotees of Lord Vishnu) is a 15th Century Gujarati work by poet Narsinh Mehta. Though it is one of the most famous ‘bhajans’ of Hindus (hymn, psalm, prayer, etc.), my real introduction to it is through the life and works of Mahatma Gandhi whom I see as the greatest visionary politician and one of the greatest social reformers of modern times.

The poem’s text has been a guiding light when life needed so and I see it more as a ‘levitating text’ or ‘stanzas of healing words’ than as a ‘bhajan’, especially the lines that say – Feel the pain of others – Help those who are in misery – But never let ego or conceit enter their mind.

Here it is (with its English translation from Wikipedia):

वैष्णव जन तो तेने कहिये जे पीड परायी जाणे रे।
पर दुःखे उपकार करे तो ये मन अभिमान न आणे रे॥

Vaishnava (devotees of Lord Vishnu) people are those who,
Feel the pain of others,
Help those who are in misery,
But never let ego or conceit enter their mind.

सकळ लोकमां सहुने वंदे, निंदा न करे केनी रे।
वाच काछ मन निश्चळ राखे, धन धन जननी तेनी रे॥

Vaishnavas, respect the entire world,
Do not censure anyone,
Keep their words, actions and thoughts pure,
The mother of such a soul is blessed.

समदृष्टि ने तृष्णा त्यागी, परस्त्री जेने मात रे।
जिह्वा थकी असत्य न बोले, परधन नव झाले हाथ रे॥

Vaishnavas see all equally, renounce greed and avarice,
Respect other woman as they respect their own mother,
Their tongue never utters false words,
Their hands would never touch the wealth of another.

मोह माया व्यापे नहि जेने, दृढ़ वैराग्य जेना मनमां रे।
रामनाम शुं ताळी रे लागी, सकळ तीरथ तेना तनमां रे॥

Vaishnavas do not succumb to worldly attachments,
They are detached from worldly pleasures,
They are enticed by the name of God (Shri Ram),
All holy sites of pilgrimage are embodied within them.

वणलोभी ने कपटरहित छे, काम क्रोध निवार्या रे।
भणे नरसैयॊ तेनुं दरसन करतां, कुळ एकोतेर तार्या रे॥

Vaishnavas encompasses the absence of greed and deceit,
They have renounced all types of lust and anger,
The author of this poem (Narsi) would be grateful to meet such a soul,
Whose virtue liberates their entire lineage.

A CITY THAT CALLS ME..

Where death enlivens as life
Where wisdom speaks in God’s words
Where religion shares space with spirituality
Where culture sings odes of its antiquity
Where tradition speaks of the wheels of change
Where life has the best living possible
The city I come from, there I live, and there I go
In search of peace, to converse within
To live sensibly carefree
Away from this maddening daily excursion
To sit with the human conscience
In the abode of the Trinity
Of Lord Shiva, the Ganga and death
Where life is a celebration in moments
Where living is the healing the soul seeks
Where existence is the song worded by you
Where identity is not the question that haunts you
Where days are eternally yours
Where you can sense what going ‘beyond’ means
A city that calls me back to my roots
To help me add to my questions
And with answers that help me with my reasons
Yes, there I am, in the lap of the Holy Mother River
On the footsteps of the Abode of its founding Lord
In the city that still shapes my thoughts..

Ganga1032015-5

A CITY THAT CALLS ME..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

WHEN I FELT ALL WAS AMISS..

“I had questions, and I had reservations, and
With time, I had learnt to live with those unanswered questions
But, only to come to this
When I felt all was amiss
Like a life with vague directions and all its ramifications..

Then, all of a sudden, I met some colours so overwhelming, with
Uplifting vibes that took me away from everything denigrating
I felt like in a trance
Far removed from that day’s comeuppance
Filling those voids in my thoughts that were so suffocating..”

Colour Collage 2

WHEN I FELT ALL WAS AMISS..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

WE ARE ‘ME’ AND WE ARE ‘WE’.

We are ‘me’ and we are ‘we’. I don’t look at you yet I know you are an inseparable element, like we were, like we are, like we will be. I know you are my precinct, a sanctorum distinct.

We have been in this communion for so long that I understand your silence and you follow my provenance. I know where to go in times, when I feel oblong, and thus jaded and lost, and you take me in, within your lines.

We know what colours we wear and we consciously try everything else to bear. We have remained together in life’s summers and winters, we have sailed through the waters of its rainy days, and we have relished on its fruits of spring.

We are ‘me’ and we are ‘we’. You give me a shape and I am your escape, skinned into togetherness of us. I know you are my limit and you know I love to go beyond this limit.

Contemplation & The Reflex

WE ARE ‘ME’ AND WE ARE ‘WE’.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/