The shirt which we did not buy

Maybe soon by the end of the week
next,we will find him,on the way
among the crowd festive
wearing a particular shirt.

The man is not important here
but the shirt which he wears.
We didn’t buy this shirt today
but he did.

I don’t know the man.
He doesn’t know us.
Neither does he know
his shirt has a poem in its pocket.


Acts And Pretense

Perhaps, this is the reason why
people in general, learned
believe in practicing keep secret.

Neither I am general nor learned.
So I am having these problems
a lot, a lot.

All my sincere acts
as I believe them to have been
are mercilessly laughed at.


You should have not died Sukhlal.
You should have been
careful,very careful,while handling
T.V set,Dish antenna,live wires.

You should have been cautious
about electric hazards.
Stupid you Sukhlal,stupid you.
You have simply wasted your life.

Sukhlal, how could you surrender
so easily to death without any fight
without any objection,without
without giving any chance to anyone?

How could you Sukhlal how could you
forget the faces of your young daughters
and of your old mother and wife
before you breathed your last?

Sukhlal, Sukhlal,
You should not have died
You should not have died
Sukhlal, Sukhlal, Sukhlal.

Mathematics in life, of life

You can leave it
but Math will not leave you
something like this
I said to my daughter
while choosing her subjects
for higher school studies.

Middle class fathers know
how to feed bitter pills
to obedient daughters.
They do it, because they know
their babies will have to pass
in every Mathematics of life.

She would have chosen
subjects of Arts
and not even Commerce
unless her father
would have
guided her to proper direction.

This is her father who knows
how many hurdles
she will have to cross
to win the shield of a job in life.
Subjects need be aptly chosen
and Arts can be deferred.

Side by side in the mirror

We found us
side by side in the mirror.
One he
who is calm and quiet
with deep eyes
and lesser age.
One me, aged
with somewhat broken
One he who looks
like nourished
with optimum care;
one me who looks
like carelessly grown
and now wilting.
There are few more
in the mirror wide
as usual
in most of the modern
haircut salons.
One who cuts my hair
and shaves
one other who puts
expensive facials
on his face, slowly.
Another two too
are waiting to receive call
for the next service
after dyeing.
One sitting
Other wandering.
Oh! I forgot to tell you
one more came
to brush his hair,
wearing a jacket black
with a guitar on his back
in between.
I am careful
it does not look unfair
that I looked at him
His appearance looks
so perfect of his age!
He is so simply but
gracefully dressed!
Also wearing
an expensive wrist watch
very uncommon to these days
but it suits his appearance.
An emerald on his finger
adding elegance.
He is here with us
but it seems
he is not here.
He showed no interest in
what we other so far
talked within ourselves.
He is alone and unique
in this salon.
We all other
looked like average
side by side in the mirror.


The Way Last

This is not bad either.
Leave it to time.
Let things do happen
as they should, in time.
Let me wait, wait and wait.

Let me hope
what comes to my hand
in the end is all gold.
Let this be the way last
which I must try.

Let me apprehend you laugh
but let me also ignore
your laughter.
This is just not your time yet
to follow me or to accept.

A special cup of tea

In a busy market place
he sells tea.
Tea and biscuits,
but he knows
I take only tea.

A special cup of tea
once in a week
every sun day
at the end of fish
meat and vegetable

I prefer sugar
he knows
I like high flavor
he knows
I like strong liqueur
he knows.

He sells tea
to the shop keepers
all around
but I deeply feel
he loves to entertain me
with a special cup of tea
full of care and respect.

His father
very old and feeble
prepares breakfast
for a few regular customer inside
and adding
such nowhere found
family flavor
he caters tea.

l like strong liqueur
he knows
I like high flavor
he knows
I prefer sugar
he knows
and also he knows
his old and feeble father
loves to work.

Every other day
his old father lives
only because
he is allowed to work
with honor and respect
he knows.



poetry archive

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