I was caught
“In a new look!”
The first day at work!
He said, the courteous friend!
Even before he captured it
I was there, stand (ing) still!

The waves
Are not seen,
Under the veneer
Of a toughened smile
The centre is learning to be calm
As I keep dates in my palm
And move on…

Home...world...and 'that vase'
Mr. Larkin I am not feeling sleepy
Even books fail to bring that balm
Excitement and  a sense of wonder
Perch on my eyebrows
Pecking at my pupils
Picking the pulling past,
A catapult-a ball of freedom,
Between the index finger
And the thumb
Is caught...in the grip of Hope!

The best time
For the fight
With oneself
Is when one is left
Alone waiting
For a weighty
Task to do
But you pursue
A little segment
Of the time free
And you never know
What to do
Then you woo
Yourself  in an accent
To reinvent
And  to  be(e)
The addresser
And the addressee
By taking
A selfie!
(And by talking
Through a selfie!)

Am I
Whiling away
The time
Postponing things
One after
The other
Making lame
Excuses
To my
Lethargic self?

The young mind and
The young heart in the making
Of a life - a green plant planned  
With kindred tree by Him
Into the earthiness of bond and growth
Into a mother out to a friend
Who is farther and a father
But not far from her
The phone brings
When rings, melodies of closeness
And runs a girl
Leaving her bath, books or play;
The water, pencil, or the wheel of the cycle
Rolls down dashing
Almost against a mishap
She has a perfect guess at the caller
And the call and gestures by her hand
To give the phone- the restless, impatient
Need to share forces her to dare
For a dire need of a talk
"Now you come six months have passed
Finish your work soon
You come, the first day you take rest
And the next day we will go to the park"
And so on but before everything the food and
Health and what  he takes and should not take,
Are the words  of a loving soul;
Enquiry and instruction
Remind him of a mother ----
His doting and dead mother
A three- year old, wide-eyed dear deer
While nibbling at the yielding leaves of life  
Told all before he landed from abroad
On his native land, a few years ago
"My son will come today
Women of the neighborhood
Wondrously asked,
"Who is you son, my dear?"
"My dad is my son,
He will come today"—

And his  departed mother
Got reincarnated
Through the daughter's
Prophetic words—

Yesterday I was given the document
To get the air ticket issued
From the airline office
For my return home,
Still a couple of months are
Left before I could see the
Native soil where
I left a small plant to grow
To be raised by an affectionate heart
And disciplined hands
The plant is trying to touch the sky,
Selfless, now he prepares for
His homeward journey
Packing the scattered feelings
In a suitcase, putting the packets
Of cheese and cappuccino instant coffee
Three-in-one, the daughter, the mother and the father;
The sweet sugar, the milk of kindness
And the tough brown granules, refreshingly stimulating
By the mere presence -
All mixed in one; powdery, emitting aroma around
The small beautiful flower in a *** in
The small apartment in Mumbai,
Where the sea beckons the sun
To meet above as clouds
To rain on the plant whose leaves
For a photosynthetic feel
Of the green color to grow and glow
The plant standing  near the window talks to birds
When the birds ask her, "What you want from the sun,
Beautiful dresses, shoes, toys, cookies and candies?"
The plant replies, "I want my dad."
"I want my dad to be with me
And share as the sun shares
The rays for the vigor of the earth."
"I do not want anything else
But his presence like the sun."

I am
A bird
Without wings
Soaring up!
Perched on
A bed
In a room
With a closed window
Flying at my will!