North Star

when you can walk
that road alone,
that road
which is the edge
of many worlds,
morphing
into each other,
not two or three

where you walk
as if on water,
between
needing me
and yourself
and the world

when you walk there,
where you find yourself
lost
without a map
that's charted
by a hysteria
to get somewhere and fast,

then,
and only then,
call out to me,
and I will be there
with you,
as you proceed
to walk that road
alone.

The Way

and I watch them go,
as I watch the waves
parting
from the stolid shore,
knowing that they leave
but not knowing
when they will return
in another form,
revealing the ground
that appears
for me to walk on now,
as I take the next step,
only the next one,
into the emptiness
of walking with myself,
alone.

Standing By Me

and I stand there
on the rumpled hearth
with no passers by,
no leaves, no flowers,
no fruits, no seeds,
no birds, no rain,
no fire, no breeze;
nothing to call my own
but my own barren self -
only dry roots
that still hold up
the parched hollow
of my throat,
and an upright spine
now rising
like a phoenix
from the moor.

Waiting in the Rain

Coke Studio in the car,
weeping window panes
paint a ruptured heart,
young green leaves
shake off water
like frisky puppies
after a bath,
tireless wheels
chase each other
on sleepy wet tar,
hustling honks
drown slipper claps,
walking voices hush
to a bird's shrill call,
time drags her feet
into the dewy grey light,
stillness cloaks her,
silence and song
move her breath,
eyes gaze on
and merge
into the restless skies,
while she cradles
her wild heart,
yearning
to skip and dance,
now waiting
alone in the rain.

Alone

I know
I have to go
where the ice
stays
and grows
more than
it melts,
where
there are no
flowing streams
where I can
catch
or see
my own face,
where
I'll have to find
my way
making friends
with the icy wind,
who'll gnaw
into my bones
to check
if I'm still alive,
I know
I have to go
where
light and dark
will take on
another form,
and I will learn
to live
with both;
I know
that is the place
that drives
me
and the world,
where
I will find
warmth
not in the
stark white cloak
of an
endless winter,
but under
my own skin.

Walking Home

I know my way home.
But fear gets in the way.
Fear makes me lose my way.
When I walk in love, I am already home.
To walk in love is to walk blindfolded.
I don't know where I am, or where I am going, or where to place my next step.
But I know that if I 'feel' my way through now, I will be home.

Many decades ago, I remember those dark nights when I used to walk home from the bus stop, after my dance class, on a lonely road with no street lights. It was a long walk home, or at least it seemed like that. Our house was the only one in that area, close to the sea and the fishing village. I was still in school - the last year I think. I remember how I used to be very scared to walk home in pitch darkness. There was this fear of being violated, for one day there was a young man from the fishing village who attacked me, grabbing at my breasts. It happened in the middle of the afternoon. I was too shocked and scared and out of that sprung rage. I went home to get a knife from the kitchen and rode my cycle to get him. I never found him. But that act was rooted in fear. After that, I was too scared to walk down that road all the way home. I remember trembling inside with fear and terror, every night when I walked home. My sister was with me, and yet I felt extreme fear. Fear that I would not reach home. Fear that I would not be 'safe' and in control.

Strangely, when I walked with my fears, a dog appeared suddenly out of nowhere. I had never seen him in that locality before. But he would come every night and walk with us from the bus stop, all the way home. And then, he would disappear into the darkness, just as he he had come. He would walk with us, beside us, at our heel, in complete silence. He never demanded anything of us. Nor did we. We just walked that path together in silence and darkness. We named him 'Mani'. Strangely, when I got over my fear, he did not come back at all. We never saw him again. He was like a strange apparition that came for a specific purpose, and then disappeared. That is what I choose to believe.

Being with my fears and darkness is the only way I know to get home. If I am able to walk with my fears and the darkness that is within, I know that Life will show me the way home and hold me, just like 'Mani' the dog who walked me home every night, until I didn't need him anymore.

The way home is like the umbilical cord that was never cut. It maybe bruised, damaged, scarred, but it is there. Always there. Whatever we do or don't do, we can never lose our way. For there is only one way, and that is the way home, whichever path we choose to take. It is our path, our unique path. Noone can walk the path with us. We have to walk it alone. Whoever comes along the way are apparitions that stay with us as long as we need them, and then disappear.  They help us walk with our fears. They help us find our way home, that we know, but are so scared, that we don't see it anymore.

We all know our way home.
So let's just walk home.
Blindfolded.
'Feeling' our way.
Alone.

There's no one to hear me cry...

There's no one
to hear me cry.

I cry
to the sea,
for she holds
my tears
with joy
in her waves,
as they
rise and fall
while she
rests in herself.

I cry
to the river,
for she takes
my tears
to distant lands,
in her flowing bosom;
stories of pain
shared with
steadfast banks
who are with her, always.

I cry
to the rain,
for she gathers
my tears
in her arms,
to nourish
the virgin earth,
and dust-laden trees
cleansed of their
forgotten sins.

I cry.
But there's no one
to hear me cry.
No one to witness
the struggle -
mine and theirs,
of simply being human;
no one who wants
to feel and hold
Joy in their hands
as she is being birthed.
Yes, there's no one
to hear me cry.
And so I cry, to myself.

On a Boat to Nowhere...

On a boat
to nowhere....
slithering into
smelted silver
and inky waters,
a black and white
polka-dotted sky
looks down at me
with a million eyes;
long shadows grow,
merge and then disappear,
like strutting models
on an endless ramp,
the radiant moon
swallows my melancholy
in one large swoop
of her ever-open heart,
waves lap relentlessly
against my naked form,
caressing me softly, gently,
into a flowing trance;
I can hear the clouds gather
over the warm, distant seas,
I can hear the still wind blow
through the dancing river weeds,
I can hear my breath flow in
and out to the all-embracing sky,
I can hear my little heart quieten,
to the song of silence, without a try;
I am on a boat
to nowhere in particular,
no oars, no companion,
no thoughts to get me over;
no dreams, no hopes to hold on to,
no fears, no letting go,
just to be, to flow, to wander,
as I travel alone in this dark river.

खामोशी और हलचल

खुला हुआ आसमान,
फैला हआ समुन्दर,
छाये हुए बादल,
तड़पती हुई धरती,,
सब मे एक खामोशी है,
सब मे एक हलचल है;
मै देख़ती हू
अपने दिल से तो,
सब मे एक खुशी भ्ररी
सूनापन है,
जो मेरे दिल से कह्ता है
"ज़्ररा ठह्ररो उस सूनापन मे,
उस मे खो जाओ ,
चक  दे उसको एक बार,
और लूट लो उसका मज़ा";
खामोशी मे भी हलचल है,
हलचल मे भी खामोशी है,
जब दिल मे सूनापन छा जाता है,
तो सारे रङ्ग निकलते है -
वो आसमान, वो बादल,
वो समुन्दर, वो धरती,
सब खिलने लगते है,
खामोशी और हलचल
मिलने लगते है