Skip to main content

I write emotions

It was quite long time back, one summer of my juvenile years, when I wrote my first poem. It was on the drying leaf of a small poplar tree that stood in the garden of my house. I do not remember what I wrote, for I had no inkling by then that I would prefer ink and paper over posh jobs and banknotes. I wrote those few lines and gave it to the river that whizzled past by hundred meters ahead. 

I did not know much about poetry even then and I have never been bothered to know about the standing forms of poetry ever, except for my academic pursuits. Poetry to me is emotion first and imagery later. A wind in any form is a wind first. A flower in all its genesis is first a flower irrespective of its varieties and vagaries. I cherish the treasure of all wonderful poets and their works time has brought to us. I keep them close to my heart. But, as a poet, I respond to a new age of poetry. Poetry that touches the core of your hearts with even a pair of words. Even without rhythm, meter or rhyme. I believe we are moving ahead of the age of blank verse, too. And I somehow feel emotions would compose themselves like never before. And I sense that emotions have always been a strong reason behind every poetic work.

Perhaps, like many species of plants and animals, some forms of emotions are already extinct. You won't find them in the newer generations. And probably hence, it is high time, emotions claim their right place into our hearts and ink.



Popular posts from this blog

Jonathan Livingston Seagull is the world's edge

I remember when I picked Jonathan Livingston Seagull for the first time. It was long ago. A thin, square-sized book that it was, with every sentence Richard Bach had me to the skin. It was as if the time had frozen. Although I was too young, I could gather what I had bumped into. It wasn’t a book. It was the edge of the world. Upfront was the dark abyss of all your fears and apprehensions about the life. And somewhere far far ahead a faint light seemed to break in. Right then that day, I dashed into that tiny dot of light, not caring if my way ploughed through the deep void.
You see, there is no abyss ever. It is you at either side. Validating the abyss is denying your connection to what is beyond you. Don’t be afraid when they tell you that the abyss stares back at you. It does not know the way to trespass on its own. Right across it stand specks of hopes, dreams, joys pulsating through the spectrum of your being. Transgress a little and you’d see that all the ashes burdening you neve…

Keep Gratitude

We often wonder how life and its things begin, how love is found, how joys are treasured. On this lookout we often forget how it all will end. How life would cease to be. That last day is the hardest thought to cope with, to let go of all that these moments hold for us. Even our incomplete fate, even our unfulfilled wishes. Even this imperfect story is too dear to let go.
And in this retrospect our gratitude magnifies. This is where true happiness lies. This where the mind meets clarity, and the voice learns modesty.

I will remember

This day metro isn’t so crowded and I get a seat toward the end of the coach. Two stoppages later a family boards the train. They have a couple of luggage bags. I vacate the seat for them. The woman reluctantly contemplates taking the seat as I insist. Men around focus on the opportunity if she refuses. She sits. The three children, who all seem 3-6 years old, slowly sit over the berth constructed of the bags. All these three sit with their backs to each other, all facing opposite directions. The man stands near the steel bar about a foot from the children, observing them. I take another look at the family - the man’s shirt is torn from places. Sensing my own unease, I hastily look at his feet. The shoes are okay, not worn out. I strangely feel as if this discovery is a consolation to my own blessings. I shift my sight. The kids are well-dressed in the clothes the parents could afford them, the woman seems to be wearing a new saree. I feel relieved that I have overcome the bout of sym…