Posted in Jottings, photo story, Poetry

Infidelity

Fotor_150163731525230Woke up to

Dreams of your infidelity

And early dawn showers

Fears chased me

Out of the room

Into the downpour

Hues of the umbrella

Mocked and smirked

Once your camera

Had kissed my smiling face

Under the same umbrella

I threw the umbrella away

And tried to repeat

The smile

Under the drops from the sky

And remembered

The hugs in the rain

The rides into the mist

The smile froze

Body shivering in fever

And omens

From the heavens

Pittar patter

They raged

My dog laid a paw on my leg

And I returned to the room

Posted in Jottings, Poetry

The Elephant on My Roof

Sometimes

Times like this

I talk to the baby elephant

On my roof

The room is very silent

My dog is asleep

Tired after play

My old father is slowly

Wasting away

He hardly was talkative

Even in his youth

Now silence is his forte

My husband is away

To work

I have fever

He didn’t call the entire day

I did and he forgot

To ask about my fever

The room silences sleep

And sit straight

Staring at the dim shape

Of a baby elephant

On my roof

Where repairs have

Left grey marks

Creating a silhouette

Of a baby elephant

With a long trunk

Sitting on his bum

I want to cuddle him

I can’t

So I talk instead

I tell him all my tales

Show him the fissures

Of time

Dug deep into my heart

Sing to him

The songs of sorrow

And joy

Argue against all

The world approves

And disapproves

Share the secrets of my soul

He sits there

Listening

Sometimes I feel him

Nod his trunk

Sometimes I visualise

Pain on his innocent face

But all the time

He listens

I can talk to him

All night

But my dog stirs

He is lonely too

I turn to him

Hug and try to sleep

In the comfort that

The elephant is there

Always there

I can talk to him

Whenever I want

He would nod

And show pain

But he will be always

There

As long as I want him

My baby elephant

On the roof

Posted in Poetry

Mist

You cannot walk away from the mist

It has eyes

And it has arms

Everywhere

Wrapping around

Each footstep

Turning the ground below

Into nothingness

It loves stillness

And silence

It dampens your wings

Drawing you

Into its mysterious depths

Freedom is not a word

It knows

My husband on the misty  Dochula Pass  in the  Himalayas within Bhutan on the road from Thimpu to Punakha where 108 memorial chortens or stupas known as “Druk Wangyal Chortens” have been built by Ashi Dorji Wangmo Wangchuk, the eldest Queen Mother.

Posted in Poetry

Locked Doors 

When you find 

A door locked

Don’t knock

Don’t go away either

Wait if you can

The door needs to breathe 

It will open one  day

And if you don’t have the time

Or patience

Leave

But not before  leaving

A part of yourself behind 

A part which the  door

Will embrace when it opens 

A part which will 

Breathe  freedom

With the open door

Posted in Poetry

That One Day 

Screenshot_20170628-130419-01One day when

I was alive

I felt you close

All over again

The smile

Filling your being with light

Because I was happy

The songs flooding

Your soul

Because my heart danced

In freedom

The peace within you

Because

I was a child

All over again

I child

You carried forever

In your soul

Long after its journey

In the womb

Got over

I felt it all

That one day

When I was alive

My mother

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

When You Hug My Prayers 

IMG_20170707_172418_994
After the pilgrimage ,Tigers Nest ,Bhutan .My picture clicked by my husband Vikas Panghal

​Each breath

Each step

The  rhythm of my being

Vibrates

When You hug

All my humble prayers

All my impossible dreams

And release these gently

Into the wind

Unto the clouds

Atop the mountains

Astride the waves

And I rise

On the wings of

Your glory

My Lord

Becoming a beautiful

Miracle

Of Your Love

Your Benevolence

Posted in Real World

Girls of a Lesser God ? 

Pair Dho ke Poojna , Pher kyuon Rolna ? ( Why exploit the girl child when we worship her as Devi , washing her feet ?) says the caption in one of the photographs in my room .As I prepare to go and feed the girls in A Lepers’  colony on this auspicious day of Ram Navami , the last day of the Hindu festival and fasting known as Navratras ; I cannot help but be shamed by the hypocritical mind sets and actions our society displays vis a vis the Girl Child .This very young girl performing an act too dangerous for her age , reflects the pathetic realty of poverty ,greed and exploitation of the poor and the weak 

We worship the girl child as the purest avtaar of Shakti , Goddess Durga but kill her in the womb or even after she arrives in the world .Many of my associates who smear their forehead with vermilion and visit the temples daily , have committed the crime of female foeticide in their desire for a male child . Female infanticide , dowry killing , rape , domestic violence and multi faceted crimes against women continue  unabated all over the world  in spite of laws and claims .