Growing in Jealousy

Cauldron.pngA fit of jealousy,

envy –

the rich and the succeeded,

the learnt and the creative,

the jolly and the healthy,

What trance occupy senses

sly and steamy,

beats grow and roar,

organs pop out – instruments blow,

gushing agony

through a ruthless ware.

The thunder will peace,

the storm will fly,

the rain will dry,

the moon will shy

but a soul heinously jealous

never humanly rise.

Hence gloom

at noon,

even at midnight,

in a cauldron

of boiling jealousy

plotting a foul play.


My Soul in My Roots

My Soul in My Roots

Sap segues into –


nodes to nodules,

bark to stem,

vein to leaf,

of a juggernaut tree.


Its immanent force

believes in its roots—

to feed, to grow

to enlighten, to glow

until branched off,

dry and worn in despair.


Mimes no judgment,

the equable reels—

mighty or dainty,

consonant or vowel,

odd or even.


Just like—

the vein and the leaf

of the enormous tree,

mortal being prone to fall;

I believe in my roots—

the Indian peninsula,

the green sea-coasts,

the multitude mountains–


to feed my spirit

with peace,

with courage,

with love.




GulmoharDear Gulmohar

How alight and well-groomed you are,
As I see you,
From the terrace,
You need no introduction somehow.

As a child, I played witchcraft at your feet,
Our nails bore your petals in glee,
For you lured me and my friends,
who scared each other by telling devil’s fantasy.

I wonder,
how you remain unaffected by magic spells,
that the dark witches labourously cast on you;
they envy your scarlet beauty
hence snobly break their knuckles in day and at night,
to transform you into someone ugly.

The witches have tried in vain,
To decharm you;
So having lost all their powers,
They are compelled back to hell.

Gulmohar you still look as red as fire;
Like a lava smelting from top of a mountain;
Yet you have the kindest bosom,
As you provide shade,
To all, be it a stranger or someone known.

Now I know your secret,
Everyday the setting sun kisses you ‘ goodbye’ ,
He seems to protect you;
I suppose,
He is in love with you,
Therefore he awaits gloomily for you to come back in season.