The best of me

My name could be

one too many

but the best of me

is called ,love.

A repute to be the

best of gifts from the

heaven's above.

 

I am known to have

brought bravest of men

on their knees,

and drive lovliest of

maidens to fight.

Overwhelm senses with

slightest of breeze

and enrapture coldest of

 hearts in

utter delight.

 

I kindle the rarest of

passions.

I surge the greatest of

emotions.

I strengthen the soul

that resolve the noblest of

causes.

and fill beauty ,wordlessly,

in the awkwardest of

pauses.

 

My name could be

one too many

but the best of me

is called ,love.

I Love you

I cant swallow

no more.

This gulp of air

struck there.

My throat,

suddenly sore.

This arrest deep inside

the bosom,

An escalating fear,

within, this ever

widening chasm.

It's dreadful,

It's choking,

Just if I could be

for once,reckless,

in loving.

I cant bring myself

to say it,

Much as I try

bit by bit.

To word all

I feel.

that I cant ,alone,

no more deal.

The moment slid past,

you are gone.

They come now to me,

torrentially.

every now and then,

they come upon.

Swiftly ,stealthily.

This build up

inside my head.

Throbbing,sobbing

till I feel like dead.

Momentarily

its washed away.

And ,for now,

guess I am okay.

For now I can

swim ashore

but I cant swallow

no more.

When I was eight..

Read in between
my curved lips,
look deep in my
eyes so bright.
a pun caught in my
faint dimples,
crinkles my nose
in an impish delight.

Joy was when sharing
the only chocolate bar.
like when the boy next door
lent his shiny hotwheels car.
when we took turns,
riding high,on the swing
and sometimes share
a few shots on the sling.

Friends meant we
fight each other mad.
Then forget ,ripped shirts,
bruises and still be glad.
scribble last few lines
for my overdue homework.
when their own were missed
and grades went southward.

Fun meant running wild
in the monsoon showers.
climb up vines and
shake down all the flowers.
And ,come home muddied
shirts, face and nail,
setting boats of important papers
in open drain to sail.

The days passed in
unbridled joy.
The nights,tucked,
in the bed with 
a goodnight
and a favorite toy.

Between dreamless sleep

A cut ,a rip,

a scrape ,a nip.

Hurts and burns,

sobs and yelps

tinctures,antiseptics,

lotions and creams.

 

Such is the beauty -

of time that runs its course.

as if to prove the existence

of their source-

scars,a few too many remain

such is the beauty-

of the psyche

to wish away the pain.

Little matters then,

if it was a knife

that pierced

or words of venom,

the damage was done.

who lost the battle

and who had won.

a lonely war rages on

with the inner demon.

A wise mind forgets

so time could heal

And burdens not the soul,

with only the wisdom to deal

for a naught it will come to be

as no pain is forever, you shall see.

Monsoon mourns

Oh the rain !
melted the trickles away.

somehow,easier now

to grin and bear the pain.

And no,

they cant see

for it bleeds inside of me,

none could see

the knife thrust deep,

the stain,

on the soul as

empty as the tear sac.

hey doc!the dry eye cure,

would that wet my parched

heart for sure?

The wounds open,

burn like hell.

Good,the smile is

con enough,

so no one can tell.

The leaf story

While I was...

reading The immortals of Meluha -by debutant Amish. A fictional account and a radical take on why Shiva (the Hindu diety) was just another human -who by his valor, principles and righteousness commanded divine stature from the masses.
The book traces the path of Shiva, a young tribal chief, tired of being in a constant fight or flight mode, desperately seeking solutions to escape from the mundanity of warfare in the otherwise serene womb of Himalayan ranges.
Opportunity comes calling , with Nandi, an expat from Srinagar, offering on a silver platter , him and his clan a shot at civil life.He is plagued by doubt with the motive of the Suryavanshi's (Lord Ram's lineage) all of which succumbs to his desire of giving his people a life more humane ,if not better.
Having left behind the imposing mountains and their home by the Manasarovar , Shiva and his people are accepted by King Daksha and his regime. The "why"of it all forms the premise of the rest of the book. I wouldnt want to give anything away for those who would be reading the book. The story is clever, taunt and an eclectic amalgamation of facts, legends and beliefs covering  the expanse of history , civilisations and mythology. Interpretations of the codes of "Ram Rajya", considereded near perfect, politically and socially, with wide applicablity to the contemporary world appeal to the general sensibilities.
In particular I am drawn to a simple paragrapgh from the book, which is also my take away from it.
I am still struck by the enormity of that thought and maybe, just maybe, this post smacks of philosophising on life, harping on the self help school of literature. Now is your cue to stop reading this post if that disinterests you. The fiction if a good read though. Try and not miss it. You will not be dazzled by it but atleast you would have read a good story.

The others continue....

Premise: Shiva is in a dilemmatic situation, his sense of judgement clouded by the perpetual stand off between good and evil. In dialog with his sub conscious (the religious might want to interpret these parts as divine interludes) roughly put as follows:

Sub conscious: Shiva, look around you, what is the color of that leaf?
Shiva: Green.
Sub conscious: Is it? How does one see?
Shiva: When light falls on an object, the object reflects it back and thats what the eye sees.
Sub conscious: Yes. Light is white, a confluence of seven colors, thats is why you see rainbow when sun light disperses water drops.
So what color is the leaf?
Shiva: Green
Sub conscious : Is it? Put the two theories together Shiva.
Shiva: When light falls on the leaf, the physical property of the leaf is such that it absorbs all colors excepting Green which it reflects back....
Sub conscious (interjects)..hence, the leaf is anything but green, is it not?
Shiva: Yes.
Sub conscious: See if it helps your plagued mind. Focus beyond what your eyes can see. The weight of your decision shall weigh heavily on this civilisation. The evil that you see, is it really so? ....

And so the story resumes it flow.
I am transfixed by simply revisitng the two theories.In our lives, at times of trials, sorrows and imminent failures our reasoning seemingly deserts us. The focus is lost and the spirit defeated. And for the stronger ones, like Shiva, a temporary haze of uncertainty clouds our vision.

All it takes is to really "See", Comprehend, Demystify. That's character. That's our moment of glory.That's our personal triumph.
It doesnot take a great deal of intellect or academic brilliance to look beyond the surface and lift the veil off it all. It takes Attitude.
Have an attitude and cultivate it, build it to be your faith. That's the Godliness in all of us, inside , not outside of us.

To borrow a line from the book..."har har mahadev" meaning each one of us is a Mahadev, Lord of Gods.