Christening

Remembrance of bygone days

have the smell of dusk-rain

the smell of sun-washed sea-waves

the summer sun that wept red

behind the tattered purple hills

of ageless sorrows

hidden in the voice of their roots

when I left my woman

and walked the streets

alone at twenty.

A helpless old man

lay sprawled beside the water-front

with twenty bullet holes in his body.

The spell-bound sky arched westwards

with cool early storm-clouds

somewhat like the day

clouds of protest gathered in my hair.

that was the day I came across I

and was christened protector of the weak

in his inn. 

The Award

I can only rest in sinful silence.

By this I mean silence in the midst of sound,

because all of us were born in sound-silence.

The movement we created in our mother’s womb did create some sound,

and like a star orbiting in space which creates sound,

we too created our first and most meaningful music in our mother’s womb.

So, friends, do not undermine yourself, as you are no less a Beethoven

than he himself.

The organized movement of your mother – her heartbeat, her blood circulation,

her thoughts,

was an orchestra to help you create your best soulful music.

And when your mother held her new-born baby

in her arms, her smile was the best award you could have got.