Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Where thou i find thee...




Is it in dreams,or in gentle winter flakes,i shall find thee...
do you look for me too as i tenderly search for you...
will we meet in this lifetime?
will we know that one sitting silently in corner was meant to be..
beyond the loftiest mountains,liberating yourself free...
in the tandem disarray,you come to me and say,
come to love,you lovelorn,
and fitfully i would cling in your arms,
my moulds shattered
my pain,my desire creeping in your veins
in those warm handclasps
beyond that serenading
an evanescent union,fading
 and dewy leaves left to witness
a story never meant to be...
but we shall have a story after all,
time bound or limitless,we shall see...
when your crisp presence hits me,
would i say..
so late you are,
i waited long and would wait still...
for we are each others still
we meet here or drift in a maze...
i would write more
in your anticipation,
when old lady of love over there says,
you are just around the corner,
in these confusing bylanes..
she knows us beyond this lifetime for sure
and our love will niether wilt nor wither....

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Leaf from my life...






Silent dwelling somewhere,green vistas,folk music,naive people,writing pad, quintessential solitude,empty minds,stroking my hands in flowing stream,watching moss grow on stones,countryside terrains,walking a mad wild dog,running on forest laden untroden paths,i want to liberate my soul,free it from angst i hold,release grudge,grasp my soul and free it...
Pain has moved me to shores i was hesitant to visit,but now i shall visit those doors again for they hold a promise,a reason,a lesson,cryptic understanding.
Narrow human proclivities,actually inhuman,collapse of ethics and conscience,ego maniacal tendencies and grin..that evil grin which pervades their shallow stream of thought.There is no remedy till yet,other than individual awakening of consciousness which only fortunate few will hopefully understand in lifetimes they circulate.
When we start becoming comfortable with our insensitivity?
A retreat in mossy woods,flying insects,mosquito bites, dilapidated huts,half cooked rice,relegated from civilization.. with its potential problems looks more alluring and satisfying that the bizarre world where our opinions of others change as quickly as our breaths,where killing is sacrosanct and killing the killer is the way out,where sick person is at mercy of doctor,where few doctors are doctrined to principle;
if other is obedient and cattle,he deserves to be treated,where if you are forthright you are crushed,where your buds are crushed before they can bloom....

Ah!god!for some time please,make me forgetful of dark side which life has,and let me be laid in nest of slumber and solitude in far away mountains...

it is very personal memoir,of how pain transforms,makes you question things you least care about,had much to write,but rest may be in silent chapters of my diary..

Monday, July 4, 2011

Ode to Anesthesia:))







Tuned to the beeps,
knocking down the creeps,
then waking them up,
is all Anesthesia stuff.


Eyes on monitors,
hands on pulse,
be active in theatre
or later regret.


When we become active,
we asked to go slow,
when slowness drives us,
our life is in mess.


Atra and Scoline,
our new jargon friends
in ECG and flow volume curves,
our cerebrum melts.


Leaks in circuits,
bleaks in prospects,
so indifferent we have become,
to getting thrashed up.


You are looked with disdain,
every time you cross,
this is earned in quagmire,
called PG life.


Drug dosages drive us mad,
so does innumerable questions,
our brains seem numbed,
by midazolam infusion.


The innocent looking monitors,
looks monstrous,
when volley of questions strike,
and we sheepishly swagger our heads.


Such is the life,
induced to maintained,
then reversed to life,
in this organic strife.


Tubes and vaporizers,
decide our day,
turning tables and changing fluids,
are our everyday play.


Everyone wonders what an anesthetist do,
while we are in theatre,
we do all the boring stuff,
which only an anesthetist can do!!






the poetess in me roused by diffusion hypoxia of gases;P







Tuesday, January 11, 2011

winter whispers...

 Rolls of tears to guard her
spiralling down her winter frosted cheeks



In the dead of  freezing night she ran
when she couldn't endure the pain




An alone commodity that she is

in age of relationships

In the lanes of despair she sees

suffering meted out

Roughened up words

massacring all her good deeds



Her face covered
and her soul naked


Running in empty bazaars
to escape her fate



She finds not a place
to empty  her head


Cuddled in their frames
dogs abound


befriending some good Samaritans
for satiating their appetites


  She ran across the blizzard
and mild rain


and wondering of how delays
ended her hope one day


Brash and rude has she become
beneath her silent frame


Yet no one sees
nor feels

the love beneath her pain

Have lost longing
and summers way


       She is as cold as winter
         which benumbs your soul
           and keeps you wanting

             for that eternal summer...



"If winter comes can spring be far behind"