Wednesday, November 30, 2016


A hot, strong cuppa.
Now going lukewarm
A third cup for the day
What is so brewing?
To guzzle up on coffee?
Nothing my friend
Just the boredom
Zapping energy that’s little left
Resigned and accepting
of the monotony.
Oh! There are highs and lows
Phases are like sine wave
Riding high on unexpected joy
Drowning in unexplained sorrow.
What would be life
With only joy or sorrow?
A masterpiece called LIFE
At times abstract, transcends  
understanding. Purpose of life;
I brood over it. Time and again,
this recurring question
is a stepping stone to
discover myself further.

Monday, November 14, 2016

Mighty Mekong

Down the river; on a slow boat.
Slicing the water as the motors propel it forward
The muddy red waters; splashes and crashes.
Eddies dancing around; spraying at times
Water drops hit my face; and I shut my eyes
Like hide n seek; we play again.
Watching the countryside views as the boat cruises.
Orange robes clad monks on the river bank.
Run to the river; and take off the clothes.
The river does not care if you are skin and bones
Or if you are plump and chubby.
And few throwing pebbles and chasing others.
Serene, disciplined monks showing their inner self
The child within them.
See those white little birds occasionally;
Soaring high, always in pairs. One follows the other;
Wherever they go, they are together.
Not a sunny day; its cloudy and breezy
Yet a lovely day.
Weeds float by, thriving and encroaching
Of what use? To the fishes and men?
The boat man steers away carefully
Avoiding them. Of what use, are they?
A woman in dirty clothes and straw hat
Grubbing in her tiny patch of land.
Chillies or beans? Potatoes or cabbages?
My thoughts wander.
Sweeping hair off her face; the lady beside me
Tries to click a snap or two
Of broken yet colourful wooden boats,
Marooned on the banks.
A calming presence away from the crowds.
The water current smooth; silently passing
One view to be enchanting than the previous.
Upon the steep banks; logs of wood
Strewn around; slapdash.
Once giant age old trees; lifeless now.
Waiting to be thrown away on the river
For the current to carry them.
Couches and beds and shelves will they become.
For my and your insatiable lifestyle.
Men’s lecherous greed, raping nature shameless
When will it end?
A man at a distance; squatting with a fishing rod
Trying to catch a fish or two for family’s supper.
Kids watching from the deck of their house.
Few clamouring on the wooden rickety ladder.
Waving at the slow boats passing by
Muddy mighty Mekong
Lifeline to thousands.

PS : The scenes as I saw when I went on a boat and back for 4 hours on Mekong while visiting a cave 

Tuesday, November 1, 2016


Shrouds of smoke;
Spreads as if there is no boundary.
Raises up; engulfing the entire space.
Lacking discipline; without a thought for anything else.
I sigh! I fume! What do I do?
Let it rise up and choke?
Or run away to an eternal freedom?
The smoke; its enticing.
What is it that attracts me?
Like a moth attracted to a flame.
There is nothing but destruction.
Is it glamorous to play with danger?
Or the rush in head for thrill?
Choking on the words that I so wanted to say.
Drowning in the thoughts that was never shared.
But it seems that I love everything
That will kill me gradually.
An unseen scar, an unheard whine.
Knowing all the while; it will kill.
Its alluring; to be burnt away
Like an incense; holy it seems.
Serving a purpose; however I know
It’s a suicide.
I will still enjoy till my last breath.