My Poems

Through the holes in my umbrella  I see the clouds  Through the holes in the clouds  I see the stars

What did the blind man see  When he reached the top of mount Everest?  He did not see the frozen ground;  He did not see the snow around;  He did not see the clouds above;  Then, what did the blind man see?  He saw Nothing.

I brushed my teeth  In five minutes  And traveled the entire world

After a play  The actors disperse;  And sometimes there are tears.  After life  The actors unite  And always there is joy!

New Year The last day of the year Passes by silently Without a tear Without a cheer

At the gate, All heads turned towards the TV monitors Watching a football game   Except for me   Not interested in sports   Reading my book   Listening to the background Christmas music   Like a blind man among a crowd of people   Which made me think   What do the blind see?   And the deaf hear?   What do the mute sing?

Way back in school   My teacher said   "Everyday, meditate in front of a lamp   Till when you close your eyes   You can see the flame"   For a long time  I confused the phenomenon   With Imagination and Skill   But today I realized   That she was talking about Oneness!

I don't know what it weathered   I don't know when it came   But the wishes inside were still warm!

  Look at him! A consultant,  With laptop bag and carry-on,   Trudging past the lighted signs   Of closing shops and restaurants;   You can see the crazy week   Of sleepless nights, of earnest fights,   Reflected in his pale red eyes;   But it's strange - were you to go   And tap his shoulders drooping low   He'll turn around with nothing but  A smiling face!   A smiling face that's attentive,   A smiling face that's engaging,   A smiling face that understands   That you have all the rights to think   That he has answers ready-made   For any quest that you seem fit   To ask of him.   He knows his words are important -  Every one that leaves his lips   And imprints in the minds of men,   In reviews and documents;   Hence he thinks and answers well,   Sometimes in long-wound sentences,   But more often, a terse reply -  No more than that.  More than th...

I thought it was the moonlit night,  The silent birds and vagrant wind  That partook the 'bye' before  The separation by the seas  But 'twas not love!  I thought it was the year long wait  With letters long to fill the space  Whose lines we read a hundred times  And poured our hearts more than the blue  But 'twas not love!  I thought it was the sudden kiss  That once escaped from my lips,  The widened eyes that showed surprise  And joy and warmth of homecoming  But 'twas not love!  I thought it was the trembling hands  And throbbing heart that yearned for me  The silent sobs and violent sighs  Which broke my heart and filled my eyes  But 'twas not love!

"Are you scared?" "I'm terrified!" "Your first time?" "Yes... I don't believe in rebirths." "Oh my! You are scared! Take some deep breaths;  Everything will be all right.  Have a safe flight!" Little did the agent know That I fly every week; I was talking about my life!

Boring Co-traveller [A conversational poem]   "You are the most reticent co-traveller that I ever had!" "Dude, I fly every week."   Yes, but you live only once!

[One monday in march, when the elevator doors opened, there were four ladies wearing all brightly colored dresses and, I remarked to myself:]   Spring in the elevator!

In two hours Into two suitcases He packed two years of his life

Like crabs venturing out from the crevices of rocks Reluctantly He stepped out from under the bedsheet into the daylight