18 November 2013

Evanescence to Eternity

BLOW me a kiss over this fall breeze
And let the remnants of summer freeze
Then I shall sing one sylvan song
And take you out of this humdrum throng
To the place where you actually belong
Still smiling, still sanguine and still strong

Shower me hugs along these fawn fall leaves
And let the winter roll in great heaves
Then I shall have you huddled up in my arms
To let the butterflies flutter in swarms
As free as they are in yonder farms
With charisma, with chivalry and with charms

Let’s be greeted by a heavenly host,
Let’s our worldly names be left and lost
Far behind the undulating hills of obscurity
As we glide past evanescence to eternity
To make one with both ancestry and posterity
Evanescence to eternity!!!

12 November 2013

Beggar's Way

I walk adrift this long and lonely lane,
Wishing to repose somewhere
For I’m way-worn and starving
But I don’t have pence to my name;
And I’m so tired that I want myself slain.
All I’m become is a dust-laden wayfarer,
Plodding through pastoral hamlets begging;
I know not what pride is, what shame.
But I’m a son of Gods I believe—
I receive so they can give.
I’ll plant a kiss on the welkin
For showering me with myriad kin
Of this they’re oblivious though
But someday they’ll know, I know.

9 November 2013

Am I in Love?

I sat by the casement yester-dusk
Sipping a warm frothy coffee,
I saw a fine bird in freedom flight
Proudly singing her best spring song
Amidst the darkling sky;

I sipped more and clung on to the flask
And the fleeting beauty thereof did win me a trophy—
I was colonized by love unbound that bright night.
Verily my eyes shifted from the humdrum throng;
I saw things many would only wonder why.

Not a question even I could ask.
Perhaps, I knew how things were meant to be—
The bird indeed had her pride
Of that I was certain, I couldn’t be wrong;
What? Am I in love at all? Sigh!!!


I shall not compare your golden cascading tresses
     With the meandering mountain brooks
          Nor with fruit-laden boughs in woods;

I shall not compare your piercing elegant eyes
     With peerless pearls in seas
 Nor with snow-white doves fluttering in even breeze;

I shall not compare your impeccably fair visage
     With the magnificent moon
Nor with soothing showers of July and June;

I shall not compare your seraphic smiles
     With coalesced petals into a chaste corolla
Nor with the finest wine relished at the royal gala;

I shall not compare your soft scarlet lips in sheen
     With the sparkling shooting stars
Nor with the flight and might of Avatars;

I shall not compare your tender bosoms
     With silky spring buds
Nor with the bubbly soft soapsuds;

I shall not compare the smooth velvety touch of your hands
     With splendid snow flakes
Nor with the blue pacific lakes;

I shall not compare your solicitous warmth
     With hearths in every hamlet
Nor with men who warm coy mistresses by their sylvan serenade;

I shall not compare you
     With the heavenly beings
Nor with the daughters of imperial kings;

You glide beyond the dale of comparison
     And thus, truly beyond compare
I dare not compare!

Mindless Thoughts

“A walk by dusk
With the moon hanging overhead
And her constant entourage(stars) like a halo;
And a halt by tavern,
Wanting to drink a little,
Wanting to word my wine-wisdom,
Wanting to shed some tears,
Wanting to fall but in love...
And wanting to rise again
Sober, stronger and more sanguine
Each time I fall...”

Main Text
I want to stare at the stars
So that I get gooseflesh
All over me
Seeing them twinkle
A little lot more
Than the other night...

I want to sit by the tavern
So that I can quaff a pint
And in my drunken stupor
All I’d utter is:
I am drunk in sobriety
Like I am not when I am...

I want to saunter by dusk
Through a mosaic of meadows
With the moon
In the sky overhead
Alone and yet in company
Of the myriad creatures around

I want to write a word
Of speech, of silence
That cannot be worded
And I will call it a poem
Even when poetry
It scarcely sounds...

I want to shed some tears
So that my eyes are cleansed
Of the dirt begotten hitherto
Because they say,
“Eyes awash with tears
See life better!”

I want to fall in love someday
So that I’d scrape my knees
And break my limbs...
Like I fell when I was a toddler
And every time I fall
I shall rise twice as much... 

8 November 2013

How I Donned this Garb with a Label-TEACHER

(To all my teachers, teacher friends, teachers in the becoming and to all my students)

In layman’s parlance, there aren’t many differences between a student’s life and a teacher’s. The only difference lies in displacement and the rest is virtually all the same, at least in my case. In retrospection, I used to sit snugly on my chair, half in a trancelike state and the other, dreaming big time while my teachers bore all the pain in the world to stand and speak almost all day. And now that I am a teacher too, instead of sitting, I stand and speak while it is my students who have taken my much-coveted place—they snugly sit on their benches, half in a trancelike state and the other, dreaming big time while I bear all the pain in the world to stand and speak almost all day. That’s the only difference, no less and no more—as I said, in layman’s parlance.

However, on taking a cursory tour back to my school days, it is obvious to me that I was oblivious of what it was like to be a teacher then. A life of a teacher at the chalkface was, more or less, a mystery to me. Mystery because they were a bunch of people who I couldn’t understand beyond their stereotyped position-TEACHER!

And as the fate would have it, the mystery that hinged at the back of my mind unveiled on its own. Post-high school, I was indiscriminately craning for everything that came my way like every anxious post-high school kid. I was a bit worried then for I did not fare satisfactorily in the board exams as I had a plan to re-do the exams the following year. Perhaps I was obsessively ambitious then but I knew the marks I would obtain that year wouldn’t be good enough to align me with my dreams. Moreover, I was a Commerce graduate and it would not be lucrative for me if I look for jobs or trainings alike right after Grade XII. Quite surprisingly, as the things slipped out of my clumsy hands, I left everything to destiny. And destiny had it that I should take up teaching and that I humbly accepted. This prompted me to set off for my apprenticeship to one of the isolated pockets. The rich and rapturous experiences thereof still flicker across the corridors of my mind today and I know they would remain immaculately etched in the annals of my fond memories until I breathe my last. Those eight months of refuge I sought in teaching were the best time of my life. Why do I say those were my best time? It is because those were my most terrible moments. You see, I was raw akin to a chick that had just popped out of its shell and seeing the world for the first time. And to aggravate the matter, I was to fend for myself.

It isn’t a mere account of how I survived. Rather, it is about the metamorphosis that I came over in myself. Those eight months persuaded me that I could never be a teacher in all certitude. Even if I became one, I would be a bad teacher. And becoming a bad teacher is no-man’s-land. Myriads of thoughts bottlenecked the traffic in my mind as to why I had opted for it at the first place. I even felt that it had been so foolish of me trying to fit in the Cinderella’s shoes like her two desperate sisters. I almost came to a point of giving it up for good. But a part of me wanted to hold on even when it meant clutching at straws. And once my training began in the Samtse College of Education, I came to know my eight months of struggle was already training per se. Those hard times I had undergone were a mere catalyst so much needed for transformation, for metamorphosis. Unconsciously or subconsciously, I had already fallen for this profession from day one of my apprenticeship. It is a beautiful field and those who drank from its pool could only behold it. It is a mystery otherwise to the mere onlookers. The vacuum between where my apprenticeship ended and where my training began from was the moment of soul-searching. And then I realized the mystery had been demystified—it was all about a crumb of hope, a grain of inspiration and a desire to share our dreams and dances, our aspirations and anticipations, our hopes and happiness... with the young minds. That was it and I knew I was indeed in the right discipline. And the training that ensued was only a formality and to perfect some of the best tricks of this trade.

I realized only then that destiny best ushers us to our niche when the dreams callously close all their steel doors and render us clueless. It was by default that I am here and it is my sheer decision to stay here until I grow old enough to retire. Now that I am a teacher myself, it’s easier and apt for me to empathize with all my teachers’ every action and reaction they had with everything I, as a student did back then. They had done their jobs well because they reached me here, safe and sound. Now it’s my time—I will keep the streak going!!! Thanks to their boundless wisdom and indefatigable inspiration that I am so proud to be one like them today.

(Written on last Trs.' day celebration.)

To My Callous Mistress

BEAR in your mind O’ dear
Those little words beaded with love
Of this heart of mine rapture
And muffled whispers of my soul too

Words are not mere words
They are the psalms cast on you
Not shrouded in spears nor swords
Save sweets and sugar

Orb of your beauty galore
That even poets would be baffled
And bring moon and stars to sore
While soft-winged cherubs croon in choir

The peasants gather with scythes and spades
And dance and uncork wine bottles
And honour you raw until dusky even shade
When lords and ladies join in too

The tramps and shepherds place their flutes
Over their bosoms and play no more
Nor spendthrift sons work their lutes
As they long to hear your soft utterance

But if only with them I could commune
That you like no men who like you
To love you is to build castles in dune
Aught but not a heart you possess

Beauty without heart is misery
If only you could cultivate love
You would glow in all pageantry
Of this earth and heaven

7 November 2013

Mid-Summer’s Reverie

As I got out for work one morning, I felt a touch of fresh summery zephyr gently fanning on my face. The earth was coloured in a natural hue; the lush, luxuriant green vegetation bore unfailing witness to it. A pungent smell of dampness wafted past and a light drizzle rendered the dale a disarmingly dampened look. Women with swarthy skin, armed with an arsenal of spades, scythes and sickles decked those fervid fields in a magnificent mosaic, while taut-muscled men wrought behind the yokes. Children were hard-pressed at play—it was time for paper-boats and not a least tinge of inclination to forgo that moment was apparent on their faces, which were mostly garlanded in carefree smiles.  Even the birds sang their best summer songs while the boughs they perched on played music in the background with the patter of rain and rustle of leaves in the breeze. Then, I spotted a scarecrow. It was in rags with sunken eyes, but it had its arms wide open and ready for a quick bear hug. I was wondering if it hadn’t been hard for it keeping itself still and still doing its job—to scare crows and aught at all!

Just then, my eyes began to play with me. Possibly like a psychedelic effect, I saw it transform into a lovely lass. I could barely help falling for her with—
Her effulgent eyes embellished in mascara,
Her silky raven tresses cascading loose,
Her majestic mien wrought in rouge,
Her succulent lips done in affluent peach,
Her manicured fingers conspicuously reposing on the lap,
Her svelte body adorned in vogue…

I wondered if she wasn’t someone from Cannes, up for the next edition’s a million-dollar coverpage close-up in a leading fashion mag. She was truly irresistible and the look she wore drew me closer to her, quite inadvertently. With every new step I advanced towards her, my body began to shudder. It was a sweet strange feeling. And by the time I was only an inch or two away from her, I could scarcely lift my brows and look into her eyes. Her look was sharp and disconcerting. Before I could do aught silly, a beep in my cellular phone broke the spell. I was standing right before the scarecrow in rags.

Eventually, I realized that it must have kept its arms open perhaps it felt neglected and lonely. Or perhaps, its open arms were its dying attempt to convey its woes of loneliness and muffled whispers of wanting love. And I was utterly overjoyed that I could at least decode the stuck-in-the-solitude scarecrow’s bottled-up emotions even though I half decided to take it as my La belle Dame Sans Merci and then, forget it all.

6 November 2013

Silent Sobs

THE pungent smell of your perfume wafts
Subtly by the tear-decked corridors of my mind,
Bringing forth, as it often does, a deluge of memories…
And it’s only in remembering you
That smiles playfully see-saw on my sunken face

Your artfully made up face emits sparks
That lights the darkest of my nights;
You came like a snowfall
And went away like angry blizzards…
And I haven’t seen light since.
Darkness smiled at me and I found
A worthy companion in it,
That I shudder at the name of light…

It is in the darkness I see your eyes glint
And the darkness makes you all too brighter
But you are the brightest in my memories
Where you are the soul inhabitant...

I am surrounded by many a friend
And as they hoot with strings of laughter
I can barely fake a smile;
Through my tear-tanned eyes
They come to know why I keep to myself
And they know they can’t blame me
For my indifference!!!

Each day I wake up early to catch the sunrise
But it denies to greet me with its warm kiss
Its blatant denial slowly corrodes my heart
With sorrows I haven’t known before
For it was in the warmth of morn sun
I saw my love grow...

And each night I stay awake waiting
To steal a glimpse of a kalapinka
Singing with all its heart and soul,
But it’s been quite a while
That I haven’t heard its soul-soothing singings
Perhaps I will never hear its songs again.
As the chaos whirling within has broken
This heart of mine into disarray
The songs only irk me...
But it was kalapinka’s song where I could
Unlink myself from the world’s woes
And I turned to its songs for solace
And it’s in its songs I could aptly converse
My sighs of wanting love
And whispers of burning desire...

And if we ever meet again
Let me never see you in tears
I may not be able to hold mine own,
Let alone wiping yours;
Let me never feel that you are troubled
I may not be able to ease your troubles;
And let me never find you faking smiles
I may not be able to take them in...
I shall shift my path if I see you first
Before I get a different mind
And away I will go before you can see me,
But if it’s you who sees me first
Then I have to be awfully sorry again...