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Naino ke dware,
aane ke vaade

Bandhe aise bolo kahe
Chaukat pe dil ki aahat rakhi hai
Tako pe hai tohre saye

Un bin unhe manaye
Un bin kabhi jo unko rijhaye
Un bin chale hai mora ye jiya haye

The thing

 the painting only a blind can see

the patterns only a magician can decrypt

the "things" that exist, felt, but can't be touched

the thing that shakes your whole body up but can't be seen

the thing that attracts you, engulfs you, entrenches you, 

the thing that burns you, tires you down, wakes you up,

the thing that is craving your attention and calling you!

what is that thing! :-) 

Golden feathers

The feathers burdened down
with gold plating -
a coating - 
of all things material,
important for the mirrors to sustain -
comfort, luxury, polish, business class -
let these all sink
let the gold drip down
golden droplets on the sand -
and let the bird fly -
for it wants to fly - 
keep soaring high -
not the highs of success or anything materials -
but the highs of being high
on something transcendental -
a thing not really word-worthy 
to put on words, or in between words -
it's better left hanging up high in that sky -
just with a "platonic belief" that it exists!
How to catch it, if at all, is a mystery!

Engagement party poetry

Families and friends, beloved ladies and gentlemen,
I extend a warm embrace and welcome you for this celebration.

With frozen lakes outside, chilling winds, and broken road signs
let's cheer each other with heavy food, hugs, kisses, and divine wine

As y'll know, we are here to welcome the engagement of our glowing (#glowup) couple,
the handsome and debonair Verner, and elegant and lovely Cui.

Long time back,
Verner and Cui,
the two stars born in heaven,
glimmered and glanced
at each other
to ask:
why do they exist?
why are they seeing each other (as stars)?
and why are they so far apart?

After being born on Earth,
forgotten that they were stars,
after years and years,
they met again
in the tall, reddish Bristol halls
where knowledge blooms
so, their hearts filled up with
knowledge first, engineering first -
along the way, Cui won many awards,
and Verner accepted defeat from her!

The stars met again, and fell in love,
and here we all are to celebrate their unison -
the engagement of the "spouses in the making"!

The fairy tale has just yet started, 
the old tale of those two young stars,
who were revolving around each other,
tied back then they were with a gravitational pull -

but now it's different,
now the pull is that of
love, harmony, trust, and amity!

As we, the friends, families, and gentle souls,
gather to embrace the new couple, 
we lit up the sky nearby -
the stars, galaxies, and all things gigantic -
with dancing fireworks and weaving melodies
knitting the fabric of spacetime with 
love, friendship, and affection!
and with these things in mind,
we finally bring down the spirit of those two stars here,
to welcome and embrace 
the beautiful new duo of stars,
Verner and Cui,
Verner and Cui,
Verner and Cui.

The titanic of climate disaster

In a fleeting fleet of cargos and cartage

of articles, amendments, agendas, and actions -

pledges, speeches, hopes, and promises.

Poetry, slogans, narratives, and stories,

as abstract and broad as possible,

to reach to everyone, but honestly to no one,

are conclusions that they reached

really the results of some logical statements?

does it even make sense?

The extravagance has blinded all these fake advocates.

They are not humans, they are morsels of money -

of treachery, of dishonesty, of atrocity, of felony.

"north star", "love, hope", "few years left to take a decision" - all crap!

Some psychopathic elites in the business lounge of this Titanic,

the titanic of climate disaster

the iceberg has pricked us, 

we are all already drowning -

you haven't got money? - can you please drown?

Your islands, your ocean, your corals, your morals - let them all sink

sink down to the abyss of immorality -

can you please die, so we can film a movie on you -

and put it in a big circus like Expo 2020,

up there in the big theatres,

can you please die,

so we can cry that you died

that you died for us,

for our circus.

We are glad that you died,

because now we have got stories to sell,

in the heavens now you dwell,

and we created this hell,

before we even went into the fucking hell.

*******


Science might give a recipe, but how it tastes is different for us all.

And then there's a hierarchy - a pyramid of human locusts 

of those in power and those who are not but want to be and those who are not -

altruists, greedy, moneymongers, sensationalists, faith-ers, nihilists, artists, logicians,

pushers, pullers, carefree-ers, hardworkers, sloth-ers, feel-ers, and psychos -

all in the game, somewhere in the pyramid: 

and so does the game begins: a human game within the game of survival -

a game more fun than the survival game - because there is more here:

a saga of trillions and trillions of unique friendships and animosities, 

of togetherness, of a family, of loving, of being loved, of caring, and of being cared,

of taking decision, of letting decisions taken,

of letting correct decisions taken, of not letting incorrect decisions taken,

of caring a lot for one's place, of caring for other's place, of caring for community,

of caring for the community that you love, of caring for yourselves above all -
  
and within the care, lies all ephemeral emotions or carefree gaps of in-action 

gaps of power delusions, material fantasies, distracted actions, immature celebrations

and of hunt for something - which is a human thing, not an Earth thing.

An Earth doesn't want to be the best planet in solar system or kick out Pluto from the list,

it's the humans who are irrationally capable enough to decide all things human 

maybe because this is the best we could do.

To decide what's best to do when intention is so pure

might very well be to do nothing. 

For if, doing something makes the goal look like a mirage,

then why not just forget that a goal even exist,

maybe the game and players are important, not as much as the goal -

when one is sure to do something for mother Earth but not exactly what

might be the best action of voice, way better than 

any other action with stakeholders at place -

to not have anyone prizing you up, 

is the best prize possible -

the prize of detachment yet winning

of perfection yet simplicity

of caring yet zoning out 

of being carried away into 

the zone of:

moderations, conflict management,

bringing enemies together

and diversities on one table.

--

"need more time as agreement couldn't be reached"

"FCCC/SB/2023/L.XX"

"consulations on my behalf"

"north star, love, hope"

"consulations and ministerial meetings should not be overlapped"

"long replies to short statements" / "a power saturation at levels?"

"few years left to take decision"

Artistic Room

A room, a space - 
to give form to emotions,
to give shape to shapeless
to draw boundaries of something fleeting -
tears, ecstasy, despair, enlightenment,
vengeance, helplessness, burden, freedom -
a room where logic meets illogic,
experience meets novice,
spirit meets dullness,
comfort meets uneasiness,
paradox meets its resolution,
pain meets its medicine.

All in all,

some sheaves are born,
some categories are born,
some maps are born,
some "finite" shapes are born,
a "platonic being" is born,
untouchable but still can be sensed,
inaudible but still can make one deaf,
invisible but still glares very strong -

an artist bounces back from pain (momentarily),
and a painting is born.
pain did meet its medicine, 
but the pain comes back -
because Godel meets no one.

Welcome

Friends and families, ladies and gentlemen,
I welcome y'll on this auspicious occasion.
Hope the starters, wine, toast, and cheese,
have fed you well to face the British breeze.

As y'll know, we are here to welcome the arrival of a new Angel,
who will grace the doors of Angkur and Siffi, in about a month.

The angel who is still travelling fast in that spectral space,
the space full of galaxies, stars, stardust and the stellar gas.
It isn't the case that we will just sit here and do nothing,
I guess we all have to stand up and snatch that angel from heavens.

Our little angel in the heavens is blessed by all the Gods,
Gods of numbers, symbols, and all things abstract and abroad.
With purity and truth, the Angel is all blessed,
but we mortal humans are nowhere near, to have her as yet. 

But we can try, perhaps through a magic, that we have all nurtured,
the seeds of love, trust, and amities, sown like blooms in an orchard.

The scent of those blooms,
rises above the horizon,
to embrace the new soul,
and then we lower it to us
- o, thanks Almighty! 
to welcome the little doll!