The Faded Dreams by Ravinder Kumar Soni - HTML preview

I find it insulting.

You cannot forever draw

Fake curtains to hide me,

There is no danger of exposure;

One day, an awakened one,

Will recognize and play with me,

Wipe away my scowl

And make me laugh and smile

Then brightness will surround me

As never before.

 

Do not ask me to draw a line,

Thick or slender,

On the bare ground where I stand;

I have gained a preferment

I keep my feet firmly grounded.

My finger is sore from pointing out

The faintest of dark spots

Appearing on the vast canvas called the Sky;

I cannot teach you all the time;

Do not tire me anymore;

Let me live, my friend,

Make peace with that which makes you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*You Left Me

 

You left me all of a sudden

You played harsh with me

I shall not complain

But tell me

Why did you leave behind

With me

Many proofs of your stay

All those fond memories of you

I cannot now bear

How can I live with them without you?

I am in those memories

Tell me

How can I live without me?

 

 

 

 

 

*Trilogy

 

Heard pleasing words,

Old laughter ring,

Tears flow down.

 

On the window-sill

Play bright sunrays,

And the rain falls.

 

The doors are locked,

Who dare enters

Past sundown?

 

 

 

 

 

 

*After The Storm

 

I will not tell you not to disturb the calm,

It does subsist after the storm has passed;

The nights are spent sleeplessly loaded with fears

In the wake of the uproar raised by the clouds.

The calm that is here once the rain has ceased

Deceives and is dangerously disarming;

It can strangulate the will to act again upon

The mind’s dictates and the heart’s intents.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Egoism

 

They were still there

Where I left them last night,

My giveaways -

My failed hopes,

Unrealized dreams and

Not so bright plans

I believed would work

For a better tomorrow.

Devising these

I had kept in mind

Only me

Deliberately.

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Gods Do Not Die

 

It is the middle of summer,

Water is already scarce,

The land is bone dry,

It has not rained yet,

The sun is ablaze.

 

‘Has Dumuzid died?’

I heard someone inquire.

 

It was a voice

From the remote past

How could I hear that voice?

I thought gods do not die

Dumuzid could not die.

 

The world has not changed,

Events re-occur,

Our thoughts remain unchanged,

The changes remain etched in my genes.

The rains will come,

The land will regain fertility,

The farmers will sow seeds,

No one will die of hunger.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Memory Lanes

 

I loved her.

I did not refuse her offer.

She asked me to walk beside her

Down her memory lanes

That she had often tread alone.

I matched my steps with hers,

Watched her fondle and cajole

Each word, phrase and comma

That gave shape to her memories

And made her rich

In thought and speech.

I saw many shapes float by

They did not stop for me,

They did not know me.

In silence, I walked alongside,

Time and again

Looked at her beautiful face, excited eyes

And quivering lips

That is a part of me and

Made me live.

I was happy enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Moment Of Truth

 

Believe me,

I would not have lied

To save my skin

Had I not relied on

Your words

Promising comfort and ease.

I did loosen the strings

That tied my hopes and wishes and

Allowed my dreams to run away,

This act I had denied.

We could not have found each other

Chasing the same goals

Had we not made

Our dreams light and bright.

Not finding you

I would have died.

 

 

 

*Stay Dry

 

The lid vibrates,

It is not music,

The fire burns fiercely.

The heat intense

Water in the cauldron

Boils.

The steam spreads,

Clouds will gather soon,

I shall watch the sky,

Not let doubts

And

Misgivings

Or

Evil thoughts

That will rain

Touch me

Or

Soak me.

I must stay dry

Stoking the fire

That heats the cauldron.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Where are you?

 

The smell of rain

Falling on dry earth

Says the monsoon

Is almost here

I want to see you

Where are you?

 

This is your seat

In the shade of a tree

On an old bench

That is warm and wet

It remembers you

Where are you?

 

The gentle wind

Silently swings

Across the green glade

Knocking leaves

In search of you

Where are you?

 

Friendless I am

Very lonely and sad

There is no one here

To know about

My love for you

Where are you?

 

My eyes are tired

They are dry and sore

They have seen thru’ light

And seen thru’ dark

They see you not

Where are you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Sublime Joy

 

I have secured the key

That opens the door

To sublime joy;

While I enjoy

I need not leave my body

Anytime now.

 

Contented and happy

I sit at the window

Overlooking the river

That guided me

And

Watch the Ganga flow unhindered

Towards the Bay

Telling my story.

 

I must pick up my pen

To write an ode in its praise;

And

Unhesitatingly describe

Through simple words

My newfound joy

That I cannot otherwise share

With anyone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Indifference

 

I am the water

Reflecting the sky

Lighted or dark

Gently flowing

Like a stream

Over rocks and sand

I do not call

I do not wait

For those who need me

Not even for help

When I lose myself

In other streams

 

 

 

 

 

 

*My Old Teacher

 

He was my old teacher,

That greyed and bent

Fatherly figure,

Seen across the street,

Purchasing vegetables.

At school, he was

Free to pamper and scold us

We, his students,

All grown up now,

Still, hold him in awe but

Never feared him,

He knew

Far too many things,

He could read our minds.

 

 

 

 

*Locked For The Night

 

Adjoining the river-front

At the end of a long corridor

There is a room, a very dark room

There

Even the light does not penetrate

I am in that room locked for the night

Given a sheet of paper and a pen

After let out to write

What I thought I could.

 

As did a cricket call its mate

During the night

I also heard the river flow seawards

No one sang a lullaby,

No one cried for help

And I

Snored and snored on loudly

Throughout the night.

 

At day-break

I unfolded the sheet of paper

Tested the pen but could not write

Other than about the delicious aroma

And the bitterness of coffee

Nothing else came to my mind

I knew I had spent a peaceful night

Immersed in a deep, dreamless sleep

I was happy

About that, I need not write.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Mirrors Do Not Lie

 

The mirror on my wall it does not lie,

It shows people as real as they are;

Their appearance and the impact of their wavering moods,

These are reflected as they are along with their chosen injects.

I do ask -

Why am I not the same I see reflected in the mirror?

Why am I that which I do not see at all?

Why does my cognition faculty fail me?

Why do I suddenly become unaware of myself?

Why do I rely upon my memory of past acts and deeds and their unavoidable effects?

Is it to retain the hold on my perch and rest?

Is that how I prepare to know, react, live, breathe, dream and think aloud?

 

Like the ever glowing sun when not reflected I too do not cease to exist

I continue to hold my ground burnishing my form to confront challenging situations

Do I commit all this while I am that which I do not see at all?

 

Of course, the mirror does not reflect my thoughts, my emotions, and intents;

It neither speaks nor interacts with me or anyone else

But remains as though waiting to reflect my image to feed my sight and ego

And give me some relief, if I may add;

Why?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Strangers

 

‘Have we met before?’ He asked

Without raising a crease on his forehead.

I was dumbstruck.

The man I knew for half my life

He refuses to recognize me.

People around me laugh scornfully,

They know him but do not know me.

These four words casually uttered

Made me a stranger in my own world.

Need I seek reasons? I ask.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*The Children Of My Street

 

At this time of the day

When children gather to play

There is no one in my street

There is no noise heard

No hint of anger or laughter

No names resound

The wind flows by gently

Listlessly

Without moving a leaf

Or raising any dust

Or striking a door

The silence is unbearable

What have I done to earn this quiet!

I am scared

I never asked the children to keep away

Their presence kept me alive

Gave me a reason to breathe

To eat and drink

Tonight

I shall try to sleep if I can

Tomorrow I shall ask of them

Why did they all abandon me?

Why did they?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Return Of Haze

 

The haze of doubt pierced,

In the yonder beyond is visible

Fluttering in the wind

Atop the ever rising forgettable

Pile of errors and omissions,

And of dreams and reflections,

A light-blue scrap of paper

Inscribed-

‘I seem to have been here before but when? '

 

Simultaneously are heard

Above the din of scramble and scuttle

The many voices of the learned and the taught

Crying out loudly in a chorus-

‘This is not my hand;

I have never been here before but why? '

 

To resolve this issue of ‘when and why'

There is also lingering a twister

That opens up to unveil

Within the folds of over-lapping dimensions

New sights and visions,

More thoughts and understanding,

Which dimensions gradually reveal

The unique singularity of Time

In which the ‘when' and ‘why' do not matter,

Where consistency and natures of involvement

Redundant, and therefore, meaningless,

Have no virtual existence.

 

Jolted by this revelation

I stand withdrawn and aloof;

As an aberrated onlooker

I am compelled to step back and move away,

Allow things to be as they are,

And quietly watch the slow return of the haze.

 

 

 

 

*A Candid Comprehension

 

We remember Him as the cause of this world,

The lone being beyond all thoughts and hearsay,

Vast and great, and all-pervading,

Existing as Truth and Righteousness

(He can never be otherwise known).