it’s been ages, since I retired
from the palaces of ambitions and envy
and the centers of power

unyoked myself of all relations
and what is praised as love
but is the self seeking satisfaction
in the other

and removing myself came here
in discrete voluntary exile
built myself
a little home
amongst the mountains and solitary woods

and the humble folk since offer me food
and provisions
for what I might teach their children
of calligraphy and brush work


the years have gone past in non-action and peace;
but here too there is the occasional tension:
a road to be built to the Capital City
demanded trees and woods and two hills;
and the soldiers and distant police turn up at the doors
to inquire who lives here
and why I am alone


but still, the years pass gentle
and my silence and solitude
time offers me
with a smile

You know kids laugh
at simple things, innocent
and a world before care and
worry
and so let’s laugh awhile here
with the kids

1
What color is a burp?

Hey, it’s burple!


2
What jam can’t you eat?

Hey, you can’t eat traffic jam, can you?



3
OK…the bird laid 100 eggs…
Guess what she said just after?

Hey, she said: Oh boy! – I’m egghausted!


4
Now what do you give
your neighbor’s dog if it keeps barking all night?

Well, give it a Barking Ticket!


5
And a duck goes out to eat
And what does it get after it eats?

Hey – what else? It gets a bill!




And so did you laugh with the kids?
good….
next time on our program
we’ll laugh with
grandma and grandpa;
*bring your own dentures

1
Hey blogger, poet...no photo, ha?
hmmm...no photo...
not even a nose, no eyes
no part or whole...well, that's OK, I guess...

I know there’s a reason - security, privacy...
Or maybe you’re actually
President Obama
masquerading here as a blogger
President Putin practising his English
seeking Russian ******* on the poetry front
Or a Chinese Politburo member
checking out if anyone from Falun Gong or Tibet is here
or a Coca-Cola spy
checking out what new drink
you can concoct for contemporary poets;
or maybe you’re Elvis Presley
retired in Risikesh
with a fair amount of hashish
and a daily dose
of the Anglo-Euro-American girls
who just don’t want to go home

so you don’t want your photo on;
we understand; that’s fine…


2
Or you're just a good woman
in some old-fashioned part of the world
who made a pact with your jealous husband:
OK, no photo, you can blog;
You put photo, you’re out!
And you poor thing, your mother-in-law
sits there during the
supervised half-an-hour
allotted to you at the computer;
and then gives a complete report
when your husband comes home:
She’s been talking to this strange man in Australia –
He’s got a South Indian name but he looks aboriginal
– and your husband turns to you
and he says Who is this idiot Raj Arumugam
you’re reading?
What's going on between the two of you?

Whatever the reason or whoever you’re
fact is I'm human
and
I just can’t help wonder once in a while:
Hey, how do you look?


3
Or all right, you take a shot
and for some strange reason
no picture ever turns out right;
it never captures the true you – does it?
(Come on, you can’t give the world
the wrong impression
of an ogre when you really look
better than the made-up
Bollywood or Hollywood heroes and  heroines)

Whatever the reason or whoever you’re
fact is I'm human
and
I just can’t help wonder once in a while:
Hey, how do you look?

4
Or maybe you’re just the best husband in the world...
You know – handsome, rich, secure government job;
does all the cooking at home and still manages to go
to work and earn decent money and
gets the wife some bed-coffee everyday
before you’re off to work - and so, you know,
your wifey doesn’t want to lose you so she says:
No picture, darling; blogging is OK;
all those international evil eyes looking at you
will make you sick
...especially people with glasses...
(when the real text, you and I know, is:
Oh gorgeous hubby of mine -
I don’t want to lose you to some blogging *****!)


Whatever the reason or whoever you’re
fact is I'm human
and
I just can’t help wonder once in a while:
Hey, how do you look?


5
But then it doesn’t really matter –
your company’s good enough;
just look at your screen
and flash us all a smile

1
the lawyer and doctor
meet at a social function
"I just hate it, "
says the doctor to the lawyer
"At social gatherings
I always get people asking
me for advice
and information,
when they know I'm a doctor…
I bet they do that to you too…
How do you deal with these people? "

"O yeah, " says the lawyer
"They do; and I do give them advice
when they ask
and the next day
I send them the bill"


2
The doctor thinks it's a good idea
and goes to his office the next day
to practise what the lawyer had taught him
And he sits at his table, ready to begin
and there right before him is the bill from the lawyer

I walk alone now
unlike as in the days of long ago
when there was company and the crowd
and there was clamor and noise…
but smiling time dispersed all things and beings;
time forked the paths
as many as veins in a leaf
and made each man and woman and child
shake hands or hug and wave goodbyes;
and so I walk alone now
in solitary ways


I let all things go
the past and pain and sorrows
and the yearnings and mind's hustle and bustle
And so one is on the path that opens at one's feet
And the earth and the trees
and the air and sky and the water and clouds
keep the still heart company
in one's long walk to one's own shed

This is not a poem but my reflections on one aspect of the creative mind...I thought I'll share it here as we are, as people involved in poetry, part of this creative mind...



1
All of us, to varying degrees, lead the creative life. We are all creative.
Observing ourselves in our creative moment, or on reflection, one notices that the silence of the mind is one of those moments when the creative mind is at work. Or is it still?, you wonder.
It is a beguiling silence. A quizzical stillness. A paradoxical one – for while it appears to be still, the creative mind is working…perhaps working in a very different sort of way, but hey - it’s still work. For after the silence comes that creative idea, that blast of ideas.
Observe it in your mind. See it for yourself.


2
Before the silence in the mind has gone much work. One has the input of all that has begun since one’s birth. Or perhaps even as one was in the womb. All that one has ever done and contemplated.
Then there is, just before the silence, the specifics. The immediate task and the work one has put towards its fulfilment. One has considered deeply the task at hand, the creative question at hand…one has gathered the information, one has fed the mind with all that one knows in relation to the creative issues at hand…One has worked intensely and long on the questions…
Then from somewhere deep within, the mind says: *“I have enough…That will do…Leave me to work it out…”
And that is when the silence begins…

3
Observe it in yourself the next time you are involved in this creative process...no matter how trivial the creative process might appear to you…
The silence is there…it’s as if the mind is exhausted, yet it is not…There does not seem any answer or creative idea or result apparent to you, but you know something is happening in the stillness of the mind…of the creative mind there deep within…

4
And you might even be engaged in routine matters, in things that are totally unrelated to the creative mind or your creative endeavour…You think it’s over…you might even think: “No, I’m not going to have a creative solution here…The sparks are gone…the fire’s dead…”
Just the silence, the stillness of the mind…But just then it happens…That creative mind rolls out towards you in waves…or like a tidal wave…and in its wave, the mind offers you a pearl – that pearl of the creative idea: a poem, a solution, an illumination…

That is the silence that is part of one’s mind…Observe it…It’s there – that creative silence, all part of one’s mind…

I ask you
Most Intelligent Reader,
expecting an answer:
What do a rabbit
and a hawk
have in common?

I expect an answer
from you
Most Intelligent Reader
But I expect it to be wrong
so I shall tell you the answer
to the question:
What do a rabbit
and a hawk
have in common?
The answer:
They both live underground,
except for the hawk

I bet you didn't know the answer,
dear intelligent reader