The Presence

​I miss you like
days that miss the sun light
when often shadowed
by the clouds
filled with moist.

I miss you like
nights that miss the moon light
when Earth has turned
face away
from its glimpse.

I miss you like
the early mornings
that miss the first cast of light
due to land covered
by the fog and mist…

I miss you like
the arching twilight
that forcefully push
birds to switch
between home and field…

No matter which time of day…
Or which time of year I am in…
I miss you
like a weather
without its sheen
Or like a time
without its continuity and feel…

Yet, my love,
do remember this
in bottom of your heart
and in depths of your soul
that no one can fathom but me…

Even in your absence,
I miss you
like you are with me…
For your absence too
gives me pleasure,
for your thoughts
always accompany me…

Hence, I enjoy
Downpour as much as a golden spree…
Moonless nights as much as the Silver glee…
Misty rendezvous as much as the Hope’s first spill…
And the Fleeting twilight as much as its Welcoming plea…

I am three with you…
Yes… In all shades of destiny…
And You…
You are here along me
as eternity.

– Dedicated to such a strong absence, that becomes an understated presence.

About this Noon

A shadow is seen during a hot air balloon ride above Hillsboro early Friday morning, July 10, 2015. (ELIZABETH FRANTZ / Monitor staff)

When green is the land, when white is the sky, the star and crescent mere a shadow beneath, of those who were born to fly!

About this noon,
I can tell you,
what is different…

way her feet are touching ground,
but not meeting a surface…
way her eyes are lusting for tangent
hidden in far far distance…

the way clouds have gathered,
wearing a cloak of the angels…
dusting their clothes, off they go,
knowing no art of whispering.

Trees too have locked now,
all the disciplined birds inside,
chirp all they would do now,
just about their next flight.

Here hear them before they leave
leaves without any hide…
before beast turns around,
or before silver turns the tide.

She knows this place…
She always knew how it felt like.
But this noon is different…
One bird’s still out here flying in a sky.

Wind is blowing on her face,
though not enough to hold her
or to hold her steps.

Mist is blurring her sight,
but not enough to make her let go
of the world it likes.

Roars still are ringing in her ear,
not enough for her song to change,
or to stop her from humming.

For I know now this is the noon,
for which Earth was created,
and for this noon is one
to keep Heavens in the moaning.

About this noon,
I had heard long before it happened.

About this noon,
You can tell,
what remained same
what kept ascending…

This noon, represents the freedom of sky, the freedom of land and everything in between to become more than what they're born with.

This noon expresses the freedom of sky, the freedom of land and everything in between to become more than what they’re born with…

– Dedicated to a noon beautiful that brings along a message of freedom and prosperity…

This euphoric ambiance, wouldn’t have persisted (Aisa sama na hota)

– This is one of the favorite compositions by R. D. Burman, euphorically sung by goddess of Hindi songs Lata Mangeshkar. Last night this played on FM, of course its spell was inescapable…


This euphoric ambiance,
wouldn’t have persisted…
Nothing would have mattered,
no spell would have existed…

If my journey wouldn’t have
been along your footsteps…

Weather wouldn’t have been fragrant,
nor fog would have taken over…
Nor this teasing – would have been wind,
uttering poetry in its whisper…
Nor flowers would’ve stitched
an ornament of dew droplets…

If my journey wouldn’t have
been along your footsteps…

These roads, these valleys,
not even a little they have changed…
Yet totally different are my pathways,
just due to your presence…
Distant dreams, would have
never closed on to my gaze…

If my journey wouldn’t have
been along your footsteps…

Would we have not met ever,
such spell wouldn’t have taken place…
Whatever would’ve been consequence,
these dreams wouldn’t have excelled..
Hearts would have never closed in
forever to stay amazed…

If my journey wouldn’t have
been along your footsteps…

– Dedicated to an ambiance and nostalgia of the lover’s spell…

Aisa sama na hota
Kuchh bhi yahan na hota
Mere hamrahi jo tum na hote
Mere hamrahi jo tum na hote

Mausam yeh na aata, yoon na chhaati yeh ghata
Aise gungunati, yoon na gaati yeh hawa
Gul shabnam ke moti na piroute
Mere hamrahi jo tum na hote

Raahein wohi, vaadi wohi badla kuchh nahin
Phir bhi tere milne se hai duniya kyun haseen
Kahin khwabon mein hum gum na hote
Mere hamrahi jo tum na hote

Hum tum jo na milte, to na chhaata yeh nasha
Hota kuchh bhi hota, yeh na hota jo hua
Yahan milke na dil aise khote
Mere hamrahi jo tum na hote

– Original lyrics by: Anjaan (nom-de-plume of Hindi Lyricist Lalji Pandey).

The Ignorant

Federico Fellini's Film "8 1/2"

Lost in himself and oblivious of world OR oblivious of self and lost in the world.

I don’t know what to write today…
So I’m telling you what I see.

I saw a child crying for her mother
in a market today…
Cries so intense that they’re still
ringing my ear drums like
long lasting church bells.
But mother was around not too far away.
Perhaps, toddler couldn’t recognize her
being among the crowd.
Perhaps, crowd was too overwhelming.

I don’t know what to write today…
Just noting down the events on face.

I saw a man laughing hysterically
like how clouds thunder during rain.
Echoes of his laugh were responded
with an equal enthusiasm by the walls
in surrounding.
While his friend standing beside
with just a hint of slowly melting
smile on his face. Quite like sun
peeking from a thick forest.
Perhaps, one shared a joke or an incident.
Perhaps, he was laughing on himself,
for some slip-up he made.

I don’t know what to write today…
Penning down what I observed.

I saw a middle-aged couple today,
working together to pack the bags
of their children, seeing them off for
the school van.
Quite like two swans swimming together
in a lake. In a perfect harmony for all acts.
While not sharing even a word of
language among each other.
Perhaps, they understand each other
too well, they can read what’s unsaid.
Perhaps, it’s a repetition of tasks,
the daily routine, that hasn’t left
anything for them to say.

I don’t know what to write today…
Just revealing what’s crossing the eyes.

I saw an old man from quite far away,
wearing clothes too similar to mine.
He was strolling in the park, like a
leaf separated from the tree.
I tried to chase him, but before I could
he disappeared into the heavy fog.
Perhaps, he was just roaming in the park,
contented of his life.
Perhaps, he was looking for someone
unwise, might be a younger self.

I don’t know what to write today…
Just writing down what I feel…

This weather is too a mystery in itself,
Just from a clean slate not a while ago,
brimming with vividness,  sound of birds
singing and dancing in radiance,
out of nowhere it has collapsed under
the smoke of burden and lost are all birds.
Being oblivious as usual of the ones
sensitive to it. But then it is, what it is,
at least with equal justice.
Whether we enjoy it or curse it.

I don’t know what to write today…
Now when I think of it, at this point.
I realize I didn’t know a thing…
Perhaps, that’s where all the fun started.
Perhaps, that’s how it all began.

– Dedicated to those who wander but aren’t lost and those who don’t wander an inch, yet are completely lost.

The Twilight Zone

A figure in a distance

Art Reference:
1. One of my favorite films – Federico Fellini’s “8 1/2” – 1963
2. Screen cap from “The Twilight Zone – Season 2” – 1960

Image Credits: