Knight in the dark

There is a poet.

Who doesn’t know anything about poems.

Neither do I.

But he writes.

So do I.

He starts from a question.

For which he looks at me for an answer.

I wait for him to get depressed.

That way I can build some more reasons.

He talks of winds.

Not much of storms.

He thinks about escape.

Not much about exit.

I wish to break him in pieces.

So I can paint every piece with blue.

He won’t mind blue I think.

He is color blind.

UFOs

I am waiting for things to be clear enough so I can hear them.

Without doubt. Without questions.

Interpretation is not my problem. It never was.

But am I hearing the same thing I think I am hearing?

How can I be sure of it?

Horizons always have seemed real to me.

But they weren’t. Never.

I knew that much about them.

Why knowing and feeling are different?

Faith has not safe place around me.

It’s better than holding on to it and failing every time like never before.

Everything is so bright.

Even twilight is so bright that I can’t see it clearly anymore.

Some broken promises keep shouting in head.

Some worlds are scattered in unkind way.

Will they find their way to destruction peacefully?

I just don’t know.

Doris Day-Que Sera Sera

भीती वाटतेय स्वत:च्या निरनिराळ्या चेहर्‍यांची.
माणसांची. आजुबाजूच्या भवतालाची.
जगण्यातून काही सापडो किंवा न सापडो.
पण ते अस्तित्वातच नसावं ची भीती छातीत वाजत राहते.सदोदित.
न्याय आहे? नसावा बहुधा.
भीती असावी. असुरक्षितता असावी.त्रागा असावा. संतापही.
आणि खूपसे प्रश्न असावेत. सुरुवातीपासून शेवटापर्यंत.
मग मी कुठाय या सार्‍यात?
खरंच आहे का?
की हरवून जाणं आहे नुसतं?
आयुष्याविषयी वगैरे बोलू नये वाटतं.
आपण त्याचं अवमूल्यन करतोय असं वाटत राहतं.
कसले उसासे..नि कसले सुस्कारे.
त्याहून ही काहीतरी मोठ्ठं हातून सुटून गेलंय.
पुन्हा कुठल्या रस्त्यावर सापडेल नाही ठाऊक.
किंवा सापडेल की नाही ते ही नाही ठाऊक.
सध्यातरी एवढंच.


When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother 
What will I be?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me:


Que sera, sera.
Whatever will be, will be.
The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
What will be, will be.


When I grew up and fell in love
I asked my sweetheart 
What lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows
Day after day?
Here's what my sweetheart said:


Que sera, sera.
Whatever will be, will be.
The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
What will be, will be.


Now I have children of my own.
They ask their mother,
What will I be?
Will I be handsome?
Will I be rich?
I tell them tenderly:


Que sera, sera.
Whatever will be, will be.
The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
What will be, will be.
Que sera, sera.

बोन्साय आणि काही विरामचिन्हं

एका भकास दुपारी रात्रीच्या अपुर्‍या झोपेचा कोटा पूर्ण करुन उठताना

जन्मलेले दोन बेवारस प्रश्न:

दुनियेतल्या समस्त धर्मग्रंथांना एकत्र आग लावली

तर एखाद्या तरी जिवंत प्रार्थनेचा धूर निघेल का?

आणि ,

तासा- तासागणिक मरत जाणार्‍या श्रद्धेच्या चिता

दरवेळी कशाने सजवायच्या?

उत्तर: दोन निनावी जांभया आणि पांघरुणांवरुन झटकलेली धूळ.

प्रेम...माया...करुणा...तत्वं...नाती.

या सार्‍यांच्या औरसपणावर ठळक उभ्या राहिलेल्या प्रश्नचिन्हांच्या

सरळ-वाकड्या गल्ल्यांमधून,

गोंधळवून टाकणार्‍या अंधार्‍या कोनाड्यांतूनही

हमखास हाताशी लागणार्‍या अश्रद्धेच्या आधारावर

काही खेळ मांडावेत.

सोबतीला घ्यावेत

काही झुकलेल्या खांद्यांचे, वाकलेल्या कण्याचे खेळगडी.

प्रेमाचे खेळ.मायेचे खेळ.नात्यांचे खेळ. तत्वज्ञानांचे खेळ.

नियम बनवावेत दुबळ्या मनगटाच्या जिवावर.

नियम वाकवावेत, मोडावेत, बदलावेत आपापल्या सोयींच्या जिवावर.

नियमांशी खेळता नाही आलं तर खेळगडी बदलावेत.

अगदीच जमलं नाही तर खेळ बदलून पाहावा.

जतन करुन ठेवावीत कलेवरं समस्त तत्वज्ञानांची

खेळाच्या अस्सलपणाचे पुरावे म्हणून.

पुन्हा एकदा 
कुठल्याशा भकास दुपारी

कुठल्यातरी मृत प्रश्नांच्या उत्तरादाखल

आपलेसे करावेत काही पुळचट युक्तीवाद.

आणि

करुन ठेवावी अजाणपणे

आपल्याच कुठल्यातरी निर्दोष वंशजाच्या काटछाटीची तरतूद.

कुणातरी निष्पाप वंशजाच्या घुसमटीची तरतूद.

Let it be...

There can be certain age when you feel you can bring the change.

Change the world etc.

You promote your egos. Play your own blame games.

See dreams of light. Run behind mirage.

You feel this is ‘your’ territory.

But more of this age is passing through me, more I am feeling that world changes itself everyday. And it changes you too with it.

Realizations keep on changing.

You get exhausted searching the ultimate realization to rest.

More you say “I am doing it”, more world removes your illusion about it.

Your egos. Your blame games sound worthless to yourself.

You love because you love the feeling that “I love”.

You hate because may be it makes you feel better or worse of yourself.

You come to know that world is doing it to you what you call ‘I do’.

And suddenly it means nothing.

Anger. Hatred. Love. Ego. Blaming others.

All you learn is to let the world  be. Let the change be. Let yourself be. 

Memories unleashed

Above the lonely skies

There rest some stories.

Stories of light around me.

Stories of darkness around the light .

When  dancing with strangers,

I wake up in different worlds.

I  search for the face I know.

I hear the stories they sing.

When lost in dark narrow valleys

I see cold flames of my anger

Empty pages burn into silence

Stories turn red into dreams.

I wait for stories to be true.

I wait for stories to have colors

They will end someday .

They were breathing someday.