Morning in the kitchen

Sleep, hurriedly escapes
Sliding down gossamer drapes
Hearing the kettle whistle
Gentle tinkering in the kitchen
I wake up knowing you are there
Letting the glorious sunrise flirt
With the gray in your temples
Smiling, I slowly shuffle my feet
Step into fuzzy warm slippers
To join you in the blissful blaze
Of another day of togetherness

My Corner

The quiet I usually crave
Patiently waits for me
At the corner of my bed
A pillow carries perfume
Of freshly washed hair
Mildly stained sweet sweat
Of long summer nights
Wrinkled sheets beckon
Hiding a half-open book
And a peeping bookmark hints
It may well be time to rest

Shameless Dreams

Shameless dreams spill
Sprinting over a window sill
Plucked from my eyelids
By naughty night angels
Who revel at my expense
Chuckle with exuberance
At how innocently I believe
In visions true only in sleep!

Book Review: Bloodstone: Legend of the Last Engraving

The book brings forth deep research and impeccable imagination. The author’s personal experiences come alive in descriptions of the Kamakhya temple rituals and the religious fervor during the autumn worship of the Goddess. The exotic yet demanding terrain of the hills of Nepal is the backdrop of the tale of a simple village couple that breaks free of the shackles of matriarchy to redefine their fate. It is the story of motherhood – earthly and divine – always alive in mythology, legends, but most importantly in human faith.

Cadavers of love

Warped lies embedded
In the nucleus of your being
Tilted fantasia
Twisted mockery
Of ethereal tenderness
For it was never real

Mirror

Regrets, conflicts, defects
From the mirror life reflects
Images of what was
Shadows of what wasn’t
Reminder of what can be
Fate plays on fleeting reels
Surreal spectres, unreal dreams

Let History Be

Globally, when regimes and political philosophy change, history comes under onslaught. Rewritten, revised, reinterpreted to suit the flavor of the realm. Historical sites are often the target of either misdirected rage or unsolicited renovation. Some soils are colored by the blood of martyrs, some hallways still echo with horrors, some passages are still raw openContinue reading “Let History Be”