The song in my soul
A song brews in my soul
Choking me with its surging tide
Seeking air with a passion plea
Flinging its fetters with sanguinary fervour
Whirling within like a feverish gale
But the liberty of its bestirring tune
I dare not decree…
For our land is lost on its lane
Our cattle savour grime for grass
The tutors, charcoal and chaff
Man’s mouth can no longer sing
Hands have ceased to encore hymns
Legs shrink from tinkling rhymes
Where lethal lead stalks the sky
So I keep on searching and seeking
But am I lost in this lawn?
For I’m yet to find the place
A snuggery – so mellow and safe
For this simmering song
Brewing bile in my brittle soul
 

These spatters upon my roof
The sun takes faltering steps
And like the watchman, I leisurely look
Gradually heavy drums rumble
Messages from across the sky
Birds fly on in wild ecstasy
Singing sweet recessionals
Trees sway with fiendish joy
The winds beat the rhythm
Running dead leaves around
Like fowls dashing for corn
Dark clouds gradually crowd the sky
In a soft transformation
And from across the sky
The heavy warning persists
And now without a warning ring
Sudden spatters clang the roof
Clattering like pebbles sprayed on steel
Now, again, lines of fire cross the sky
Giving birth to crashing bangs
Below people scrambling for shelter
Shrink from the impending soak
And as the trees drink their bliss
In gulps that handicap words
I remain alone
Amidst these celestial drops
A lonely watcher on the balcony

 
The other din
At that time that a season
Ends its transit race…
 
At that time that an age
Berths at its final shore…
 
The drums beat a silent sound
A dawn shapes in the frightening shades
 
The streets wear a mirth-mourn mood
The gong sounds, the time set
 
When the beats of the muddled mind
Lure one into a nigh sanctum
 
When admonitions shower like hails
Rattling like raindrops on my ruptured roof
 
When the altar cries compel
To re-ponder one’s course anew
 
When supplications melt into a rumpus
Detaining the flow in our earth’s veins
 
When the ominous din of the interior
Spells the imminent doom of the oldster
 
When the face of a sacred site
Wears a wail like a corpse’s bed…
 
Then a sudden shudder and a shock
A bird sings – a sharp staccato
The world ceases for threescore beats
And each heart thumps like a drummer’s fist
 
Then the return of the former din…
 
But now another din
Ushering in a safe passage
For the harmonious hails of the bells
Mingle with the songs of the fire toys
And the frenzied croaks of the exiled frogs
Hail the dawn of a new day.