For the peace of my mind!

The only intent of writing this piece is to distract myself from a certain war that is raging within.It is ironic how one keeps feeding on the very things that are leading to a miserable state of mind.A certain level of masochism always prevails,leading to sympathy for self,followed by tears,that in turn followed by self counseling which in the end leads to the psychobabble that i am writing about.

In the past i have obseved that in relation to the self,the things that affect it the most are the ones that are paid attention to.What is most interesting about this is that whether the relation is a positive or a negative one is immaterial.So one might be humiliated to the extreme by a cause and yet devote all the time and mindspace just to that.This in itself is a viscious circle,the output always being loss of self esteem.

Now one might wonder why on earth am i going on and on about this dreary subject.Well,the answer is simple my friend.Analysing a trouble to its shreds might not ward it away,but it definitely makes it look less troublesome!So Socrates and Plato had the most troubled lives,but poor creatures never realised it because they never saw the trouble as a whole.It was always such a microscopic view of the problem that it led to its percieved oversimplification.

Let us take an example:You are pissed about the fact that your relationship/s suck/s.Now if you were to look at this as a whole,it might mean the end of the world or atleast the current peace of mind and the most disastrous thing-self blame.But lets analyse the problem.Relationships are what?The way two people relate to each other.Which in essance means the way one person relates to the other person's likes,dislikes,habits,past,present and more.Which means,it takes two people to relate to each others' very complex set of affairs.This in turn means that even if one person fails to relate to even one very important aspect of another's being,it will lead to issues.Since the probability of this happening is so high,blaming the self or the other is of no consequence since relationships in themselves are a very tricky affair to handle.

There you see,in those few lines,i have absolved the person who screwed up with your happiness(so you might be at peace since as i said before the dedication to a cause leads to more troubles than the cause itself ).I have also absolved you of any guilt that you might feel for the disastrous relationship because in the end it takes two people to make a relationship work(am sure that statement must have been pronounced a million times and so must be true).

Ok.The objective of this disaster has been satisfied..am feeling better.

Clueless...

Seething with insanity,
Unseeing,filled with repulsion.
Lost,groping within.
Dead,in the effort to not feel.

Not that i deserve this
Not that i called for it
Except that the "it"is what i want the most
The "it" is what i fear the most.

The "it" is what i lose my sleep over
The "it" is what i am clueless about!
Clueless!
Pathetically Clueless!!

This and that

Its not often that i am clueless.And happy.
Its not often that i drift at whim.Here and There.
Its not often that i amuse myself with random things.This and that.

Its not often that i goof up.And not embarassed
Its not often that i sleepwalk through the day.And not unaware.
Its not often that i begin to write without a muse.And not unenthused.

Its not often that i am happy without specifics.
Its not often that i am myself without the props.
Its not often that i feel alive even with this and that

The Irk

Its odd,that i feel this way..
Worse,i think it too.
That something i can't voice..
That something i can't put my finger on.

Reasons are but poor company...
They vanish half way through the predicament.
I try looking beyond me...
Its another matter that there is no point there.

Suffices to say,i know what is next..
That there is nothing to be content with.
Halts are mere matters of amusement..
I stay a little longer,and there it returns.

Looking back,or ahead,or now...
Not much has changed.
I do mop the shreds of disappointment...
On some days vigrously,on others by habit.

Not that i am weary,or saddened...
I am as i have been for long.
Tried remembering myself before it became so long...
A whiff of what could be smotherd what had been.

Now,i don't mull over it so much...
I have accepted it,as i accepted the facade.
But the irk remains...
The irk,beyond reason,but the only truth.

you will be alright

Ever thought why that word keeps haunting you...
Even when you know its been long dead and buried next to that memory!

Ever thought why you still linger on those pages....
Even when they are blank and yellowed with stains of those tears!

Ever thought why you smile at that song...
Even when you know that its the same melody that was playing when u stopped feeling that night!

Ever thought why that hurt and pain now give you joy...
Even when it killed you that day and you shudder at that reminder!

Let me tell you why...
Its in those words and pages,that smile and pain that you found the will to go on...
To close those windows to misery and bury those moments in the past...
To feel alive again and to know that if ever this happened again....you will be alright!

random thoughts

Instances and stupor,
Just a word or a murmer.
Inexplicables and clarifications.
Could it get stranger?or simpler?

Unnerving yes,Euphoric too.
But looking back at a day
Or an hour or a moment...
brings back myraid hues.

I wonder,and wonder some more..
On all that is and was and would be...
Answers are few nd far between...
but do i care...Do i?

Poetic muse!

Moolah Musing

Tinkle here and a jingle there,
khadi kurtas and fiats there.
In fodder, on tehalka, between scams...
you can spot them anywhere.

Karamabhoomi and dharmabhoomi...
is only money and moolah...
Ask them why and hear
Sabse bada rupaiya.

So they will build,
roads that never last, and bridges
that collapse under their own weights..
and those are not the only hitches.

Heard of him?
the one who dumped bihar..
for fodder and cattle
and education of nine children?

No? Then you must be not an indian...
Or had chosen to sleep through...
when on a night out...
trains were burnt by a minister's crew.

Moolah is all that matters..
under the beds, behind the walls,
and some keep it where they,
attend to nature's calls.

Peace talks and POTA
are tools for image makeovers.
Its a pity that the make up does not last
till the reign is over.

Pali Tripathi


A word or deed

Lost among the leaves,
there was one wrinkled yellow leaf.
Lonely and limp,
it was waiting for release.

And then, hovering up in the air,
there was the most beautiful butterfly ever.
Green and yellow sparkled its feathers
it was a spectacle to be seen

All the leaves and all the flowers
swayed back and forth
Oh dear butterfly....look at me
Am i not the worthiest, for u to sit over?

The yellow leaf, stole a glance,
And awestuck it was too,
But knew only too well that
the butterfly would never sit on it ever.

The butterfly neared a daisy
And then flew away
It looked at a dewy fresh leaf
But then looked away in dismay

At last, ready to fly away
it fluttered its wings.
A pinch of its powdery colours
dropped on the yellow leaf.

The yellow leaf went faint with joy,
When its yellow turned green
All the leaves and all the flowers
could do nothing but envy.

The butterfly was long gone,
But the yellow leaf was joyous still.
Unknowingly the butterfly had bestowed on it
A moment of glory.

Strange are the ways of life,
We know not what is next
A word or deed might crush a hope
Or revive it still.

Pali Tripathi


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Ashamed

Ashamed of me I am.
You ask why……
I wrapped my truth in fluffy pretense,
Tied some shreds of sympathy around it…
And lo….there you have…..
My deformed being in a pool of haze.

On my way to desolation,
I grabbed a moment-empty except awareness.
I opened it, and saw myself content.
Brushing it with fingertips
I left a long caress
On that moment.

Yes, I have lost me,
But others have accepted the hollowness.
Yes, I seldom know when I am happy,
But others have accepted my joy.
Yes, I am only a spectator in my life,
But others have accepted my choice.

I wish, I could go in that moment once and become me,
For a moment.

Pali Tripathi


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Bread. Pieces

Bread. Pieces. Stale
Spoon. Stained. Half
Plate. Broken.One
Pan.Dry. Empty
Table. Brown. Dirty
Door. Bell. Footsteps
Silence. Fear. Apprehension
Man. Thin. Tatters
Eyes. Cold. Piercing
Gazes. Afraid. Numb
Sound. Loud. Harsh
Child. Tears. Gurgle
Bread. Pieces. Gone
Faces. White. Wounded
Mouths. Pained. Dry
Door. Shut. Bang
Father. Drunk. Asleep
Mother. Deaf. Diseased
Children. Dumb. Broken
Life. Limp. Lost
Love. Desired. Denied.

Pali Tripathi


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Colors.

Water, muddy and cool,
stands still at my feet.
Yellow stretch of fields, and a crimson sunset,
behold my breath.
Green moss covers the thin trees,
and a brown nest lies deserted in its arms.
Air, wet and tired, sways the white ferns,
while a few black crows fly by...
A peasent woman carrying her child passes by..
she wearing a blue sari....the child naked in a dirty sling.
I turn my gaze to my hands buried in the red sand...
A grey ant crawls on a finger, and steps down on land.
I get up with a sigh, wondering,
why is the dusk so colorful today?

Pali Tripathi


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Geeli si, Roothi si, Soti si...

Geeli si, Roothi si, Soti si...
ek gandh aayi hai abhi.
nukkad se, chaurahe se..
ek chitthi aayi hai abhi.

subakti hui, aankhon ko meeche...
girti, ladkhadaati hai wo.
Rukti hai, mudti hai,
Phir chal padti hai wo.

Nirash si kuch, kuch laachar si...
par naa goongi hai naa bahri hai.
Sahmi si kuch, kuch naaraaz si...
par naa thaki hai naa thahri hai.

Mere pairon ke neechey hai jo
mera astitva hai wo.
Mere ungliyon ke galiyaaron se fisli hai jo..
mera hi shrot hai wo.

Kuch aur nahin, mitti hai wo
sajal hai jo, mitti hai wo
baandhey hue hai, mitti hai wo
pankh bhi hai jo, mitti hai wo.

Pali Tripathi


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Ghazal

Kashmakash ke sisak se ek tasvir ubhri hai....
apne hi katron mein doobi hui hai.

Saaz siskiyon ka zaari hai abhi...
kuch to khaas hai jo baaqi hai abhi.

haanth faailaayen, kuch boondein ikattha kar loon...
thahroon ek pal, koi muquaam haasil kar loon.

Phir chal padi hoon usi raahe guzar se...
aanch abhi bhi aati hai guzre hue lamhon se.

Pali Tripathi


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I wait….

On the blades of grass
By the river Ganges
Some sand in my hand
And some in my gaze.

I hear chants,
As the dawn breaks.
Saffron robes discarded,
Bodies washed in water.


The morning moon remains
Stubborn silent soothing
Refusing to leave
And surrender before the sun

The air smells pungent
With flowers and incense
It remains quiet for a while,
Then humming walks away

The day crawls through my hair,
Touches my hand
Slips through my body
And falls at my feet

I awake with a start
Trying to feel your presence
Of course you did not come
I was awake all night

But may be you came
And quietly left
May be I slept and lost you
And so tonight I shall come again.

I wipe the sand
From my hair and skirt
My bangles jingle
As two bare feet stop nearby

With hope I look up
To see a hermit
“Anarth”he mumbles
And turns away.

Now I know
You will never come
That you never meant to
But look at me, I still wait

Reaching home, stares question me
In a stupor I murmur
“Leave me alone just for today
For, tonight I shall neither wait nor survive”

Pali Tripathi


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Man on the pavement

“There is a long snake
Yellow dangerous”
“What, where”
“It is dead, but see you must”
And so the sight was witnessed
Amidst amused curious exclamations
A creature, squashed.dead
Was a source of admiration
Dangerous poisonous
Its qualifications
Curiosity pleasure
The ramifications.

The snake I speak of,
Is the man I see on the pavement
Me, you, us, all
The onlookers present

When he was alive
He was a threat
For alms he begged
But of him I was afraid.

Now that he is dead, I walk near him
Smiling, proud unafraid
I can even touch him,
But the raw open wound
Makes the desire dim

And so I learn a lesson,
As I look away.
That I must keep
The man on the pavement at bay.

For, It is poisonous to be poor
Dangerous to be common
Crime to be helpless
And only death…
To be the man on the pavement.

Pali Tripathi


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Motherland

Precious sins, pure misery and a failed truimph.
Is that all i have to offer you...?
No there is more.....
Indifference, still and unyielding
Is also what i can yield to you.

Presence? Life? Attention? ...
Oh you ask for too much.
What do i owe you afterall..
only a name called motherland..

Why do you demand so much?
Why not close your eyes and pretend you are dead?
It might be easier that way
For you and for me.....

Did you say you pine for serenity...?
Well..i am giving you reverence...
By way of saffron flags and lotus...
Why, is that not enough?

You are troubled by clashes you say...
But bloodshed is your past mother.
If you give the slightest nod...
I will make tyranny your destiny.

Let me leave mother,
for greener pastures.
I might not return,
So dont fret for me.

I know i am selfish,
but that is what they have done to me...
asked them why
And they blamed others for it.

Oh dont cry dear...
i dont know why that hurts me too..
Shut your ears...
My echoing footsteps might hurt you more.

Pali Tripathi


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Political Irony

“… I promise a school,
Where your children shall learn.
And a booming business
Where the rest, can earn”
Applause. Thus ended the minister’s speech.

Clad in white, eyes shaded,
He waved at eager faces.
As thin legs and hands on frail structures caressed the car,
The ambassdor sped away.

Another village witnessed the same spectacle,
Which continued in the next ten.
In the scorching heat and the cracking earth,
The minister cultivated hope.And faith.

The car stopped by a railway station,
For the minister to board the train.
To Lucknow he would reach on time,
And then board the flight to Delhi at eight.

The coach was a first class,
So the minister soundly slept.
The fallow land and thirsty mouths,
Were soon forgotton.

At eight, the minister did catch the flght,
And stopped for a shower at his place.
He asked the servant to run his bath
While he made important calls.

The servant did as he was told,
And let the bath run.
Run it did for quarter of an hour
And only then the minister ended the call.

Well fed that the minister was,
Half the water made space for his entrance.
While much spilled from the tub,
He turned on the tap for some more.

“I definitely can have some Parathas,
Before I leave for the meeting”
Thus thinking he grabbed a bite
And left the rest for the bin

The Ambassador was back on the road,
With blue light flashing on its top.
The minister preened in the mirror,
While the driver looked for ways to speed the car.

The minister was now seated in a circle
With ten others of his kind.
There was a leader in the middle
To catch whose attention, all tried.

But the leader had selective hearing
And he heard very few words
Each time, ”vote”, ”election”or “campaign” was uttered
His attention stood to a stand still.

Our friend Minister too started to speak,
“Eleven villages I have toured,
Not a vote I will lose…”
Only that, and the audience was spellbound.

Assured, he began again,
“I promised them food
And I promised them water
If I had to, I would have promised heaven too”

“Oh! You should have looked at their faces,
Charmed they all were,
Dance to my tunes
They all did.”

The leader clapped his hands in glee
And creases on his forehead decreased.
The minister beemed with pride
And the rest envied his streak

The election came and the election went,
Of course, the minister did win.
The victory was a cause to celebrate
So the party started soon.

There was wine and food,
And lot of pretty faces
Many cars were parked at the gate
While others kept coming still.

Outside the gate sat four drivers
Each served the rich and famous.
Alcohol was all that they thought of,
For the rest, they couldn’t care less.

Said one, ”The minister has won,
Let us see what happens in the villages.
It will be fun to watch if he is as bad,
Or worse than the rest”

All the drivers chuckled at that,
For each thought he knew the fate
Elections were a season of promises,
Each promise served as a bait.

Governance is an excuse for comfort
Political irony is the name of the game.
A minister bathes in wine and chokes on food,
And those who paid the bill still pray for water.

Pali Tripathi


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Queer

I squeeze the air...with my hand
pinching the sunlight with the fingers.
Smelling remorse i get up,
to walk into a canon.

Some heads were blown away,
And bodies strewn near..
blood made things colorful,
who said that war was not dear.

A certain God called President,
ordered death for breakfast,
since there were many hungry
the party is still not over.

Destinies are not decided...
they are made.
by people who hold the gun,
and by those who order for them.

Children? well they are to be squashed,
under a lifetime of nightmares,
And if some remain,
they can be baits for more mayhem

Pali Tripathi


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sannate ki aawaaz hai

sannate ki aawaaz hai,
suni hui si lagti hai.
dhuan to uthta nahin par
siskiyaan sulagti hain.

aaftaab ke dar se
andhere kaa daaman chootta nahin.
khairiyat ke dar se
suqoon ka manzar failtaa nahin

aakhir kab tak yun hi
beraunak chehron ko chipaayenge?
aakhir kab tak yun hi
afsaanon se dil ko bahalaayenge.

AAzaadi kaa lahoo to bachaa nahin
ab kya nichodenge
dairo dharam ki deewaarein hi baaqui hain
kab tak us par taqdeerein phodeinge

Ab to sambhal jaaein ki
raastaa khatma hone ko hai
Ab to ghar laut jaayein ki
darwaazaa band hone ko hai!

Pali Tripathi


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sitting on a cloud

I floated, on a bloated cloud,
Too full of itself.

I saw the view like a voyer,
Concealed, and enjoying it.

I touched the air, unsure.
It was damp and unsettling.

I tasted a dew drop
Tiny, it melted.

I sniffed the earth
The smell afar but arresting.

I closed my eyes
And felt happiness.

Pali Tripathi


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Soccer-For rhyme and no reason

I thought, nothing could be crazier,
Than a stick, a ball and a bunch of men thrown together.
This was till i witnessed another bunch minus the stick,
And that drove me to the end of my teher
(See, That rhymes :))

On a patch of grass,
I saw some men furiously dribble a ball.
Thats all they did for a while
And then fed up, they hit it with a cry'goal'.

I heard some words,
To know the meaning of which i do not pine.
For instance, there were lines and i could see none
And these had names like Goal, center and touch, with the suffix line.

Worse, they acted like power rangers,
With names like-defenders, midfielders, and sweepers.
The only way they behaved was,
When a guy called referee sounded a beeper.

Yes, i know this will not last forever,
Evil never wins.
The only grudge i have is that,
it is always followed by its kins.

Pali Tripathi


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That Day

Icy sound, a blue handshake and a blurry quilt.
That is all i remember of that day.
I dont know the color of those words or the feel of a presence.
Only an acknowledgement, that i was there.
Rough lines, a precise movement and a click of shoes...
And then the day ended.
Now, i close my eyes, sitting on a wave of memory...
trying to catch ripples of familiarity...
or may be outlines of an existence...
But none remains.
Remains? Yes..for i know that a while ago it had touched me.
That too has now faded...only a stillness remains.
Turning back, touching a whisper, looking at a shiver,
I submit...to that day, to that moment, to that reality.