Fishing for stars

Fishing for stars

Bare branches cast nets
Search twilight river of ink
Fishing for bright stars

— shubha

Dusshera

Dusshera

As we celebrate , of good over evil,the symbolic victory
With much pomp, gaiety,
Say goodbye to Mother's deity
With much sadness, piety,
Let us resolve to continue this fight
Within ourselves as a sacred duty,
Set aflame Ravan in  public squares
Burn with it,our greed, our selfish desires
Worship the goddesses trinity,
Continue in our quest,to see all as a embodiment of divinity,
With grace we will succeed
 As we celebrate this Vijaydashami.

--shubha

Gandhiji's legacy

Gandhiji's legacy


In circular arguments, we argue
If Gandhiji's legacy is a free India
That is today bound in her shackles
Of intolerance, corruption, fear

A philosophy of non- violent non- cooperation
That has been co-opted
By the most manipulative to be
Neither non- violent
Nor non-cooperative where the price is right

Is his legacy the dream of self-sustained villages
That broke at the sacrificial altar
Of the industrial revolution
As the population migrates en masse
To cities in search of dreams

Or is it the dream of a unpartitioned nation
Where its' citizens find in their hearts
Enough space for each other
Whose unraveling,broke him

Is it his firm belief that we can all rise
To engage with each other as brothers, sisters?
And use hands in service of others
Not their exploitation for benefit

Perhaps his greatest legacy
Is the one that all honest men leave behind
A living example
That by the dint of perseverance, faith
Goodness , greatness are within reach.

--shubha

Endless outpourings

Endless outpourings

I breathe your songs
In a whisper on the breeze
Who lovingly wafts them
Into nothingness
That they may remain hidden
In the womb of silence


To waft as melody
In the stillness of
Another heart
Rise to their lips
As their songs
And in so doing
Impart sweetness
That is You
Everlasting

And so from You
Unto You
Love flows
In endless outpourings.


—shubha

Be our guide

Be our guide


We know not where we come from
We know not where we go

We weather many a self made storm
Oh! What bitter seeds we sow

We travel this earth wide, tomes thumb
Always baggage in tow

Looking for happiness , oceans plumb
We search high, we search low

Lost children of God’s kingdom come
Seeking You, we learn , we know

Guide us to your lap , grow our faith some
Lead us to You, to us ,ourselves show

We know not where we come from
We know not where we go

—shubha

Kinship lost

Kinship lost

No longer do I chase words
No longer do they find me
No longer do I seek to express
Inexplicable beauty in them
My expression, my release

It is a kinship lost
Yet leaves no bitterness
No regret
For the beauty still speaks
Though not through me

No longer do I chase words
Perhaps they will return
When it is time to find me

—shubha

Between silences

Between silences

Somewhere in my silences
Some words still sleep
Waiting for that unbidden thought
Scene, sound, scent
That will awaken them

And they will wear
This cloak borrowed
To tell their tale

And yet everyone who
Hears them, holds them
Will create their own
Scene, scent, sound
In the realms of their own silences

And words will be hazy bridges
Now binding, now dissolving
In between our silences

—shubha 

Cold coffee - coffee stories

Cold coffee - coffee stories

She checked her little purse
Just enough for some cold coffee
Saved industriously over the week
Riding the bus over hiring a rickshaw
From college

She could picture the tall glass
Ice cream on top
The glass,frosting from the ice
Rivulets of desire
Running tantalizingly by the side
She was salivating
Just the thing on a hot afternoon

After class , chatting with her friend
She noticed the guy, a student activist
Typically dressed
Kurta, Khadi jacket , cloth bag
The stern intensity of purpose
She typically gave them a wide berth

He approached them pamphlets in hand,
Orissa famine relief fund it screamed
In bold letters over the photo
Of a starving child

Can you contribute? , he demanded
Sorry, no money , mumbled her friend
He seemed disappointed, trifle disgusted
As he turned away

Something about the round, wide eyes of the child
Staring out of the thin face
Smote her heart , seemed to demand her action
No matter how small

Hey, just a minute she called
Opening up her purse
Tipping its' entire contents into his surprised hand
A smile melted his frowning countenance

She returned to her friend who was shaking her head
They ask for contributions all the time , said her friend dismissively
As soon as he was out of earshot
Your money will probably be used
For printing the next set of pamphlets

Pinpricks of doubt rose ready to burst
The happy bubble growing within her breast
Had she foolishly,impulsively
Contributed to more cacophony
During the student body elections?

She prayed her money
Would find it's way as grain
To a hungry mouth
And laid the pin of doubt to rest

So you won't be joining us at the cafe? ,
Asked  her friend  briskly
Suddenly business like
She shook her head

On her walk home
She stopped by the water fountain
And slurped the clear, cold drink thirstily
It wasn't cold coffee
But surprisingly, just as satisfying.

--shubha

Why do we need poetry?

Why do we need poetry?


To let Love call onto itself

To let it sing it's own songs

To be it's listener

To be it's witness

To be it's instrument

To hear it speak

In the silences between.


--shubha

Migrant and the Aborigines

Migrant and the Aborigines


How do you infiltrate, what is your own?
I have staked a claim, to every visited land
With the seeds of love , sown
A migrant , in search of her native land,
I have not found one, I can disown

So I scatter myself in every place
In so doing, my self,erase
In that erasure, universality trace
And then I belong, to every place

Both the migrant and the aborigine
I am,in love,what I cannot be,in me.


--shubha

Life’s movements

Life’s movements

Hope mirrored in snow
At the cusp of two seasons
Life’s movements as change

—shubha

I dream a dream

I dream a dream

I dream a dream of awakening
From this life’s dream of our making
That our happiness is no longer hostage
A prisoner waiting in bondage
To seek its release ,in fulfillment
Ever in wait for a future of redemption
I dream a dream of awakening
Someday, here in the now, every thirst slaking

—shubha

Of Blind quests and the only promise

Of Blind quests and the only promise

In a world of reflections
I seek truth
In shifting , undulating smoke
I seek stillness
In tilting ,  twirling world
I seek balance
What can I be but disappointed?

With eyes following
Every flash of light
Hither, thither
Blinded by every illusion
I seek to see

While my heart calls, prompts
Not just this
Not just this
Close your eyes
Look within
And you will find
You will see
You will know
And above all
You will be
You
You will be
Love

—shubha

Weaving, unspooling

Weaving, unspooling

Weave not yet another tale
Of woe, loss intertwined
With gilt thread of gain, desire
All presumed to deliver
In it’s cosy expanse
A sense of happiness
Of being
Of purpose
To envelop you
Define your identity

But extract from this cloth
Of mind
Thread by thread of thought
Until naught remains
But love
Undivided , Indivisible

And you will
Envelop this world
All you see
And there will be
No other, No you

-shubha

Window full of sky

Window full of sky

Through the cragged windows
Of this abandoned city
The sky beckons
And yet chained
To fluid identity
Shifting duty
Fear binding my wings
Flight cannot be
Not yet

So each day , I gather
One window full of sky
At a time
And build my own
Within me
There I soar
There I am one with the sky

And all those times
When this abandoned city
Comes calling  with it’s stunned silence
I escape into my sky
For a few moments
Of freedom
A few moments
Of joy .


—shubha