SANTOSH BAKAYA

SANTOSH BAKAYA

HANDS

Who are those two vibrant figures

Drifting along in the restless moonlit night?

Twisting, pirouetting weaving magic.

Tilting at windmills, quixotic; eyes glowing bright?

The moonbeams strum, the lovers hum

the breeze whispers, the leaves lisp a love song

Hand in hand they traipse along.

Wheeling with the stars, their hearts on Mars

[Or wherever love- bloated hearts go

on restless, moonless nights.]

.

A foghorn sounds, and the clouds do a ballet.

By a sort of fascination impelled, the lovers now sway

on the new sun- lit day, ah, a lovely dawn.

Eyes fixed on the red wheel barrow in the lawn.

Then head towards a couple of wrought iron chairs

On the table, the sun spreads patterned warmth.

Occasionally hastening away to tweak the ears of the spunky clouds.

The breeze teases the twosome with icy precision

With the intimacy of the soap flirting with one’s skin.

They snuggle and cuddle, exchanging spicy words

passionately kissing away the day.

Every day, for many days.

And one day, four decades later

Scooping up the remains of yet another day, hand in hand

They reappear, knuckling away the sunbeams trapped in their eyes

And walk towards the chairs on knees arthritic

No longer tilting at windmills, quixotic.

Drugged by the seductive fragrance, they hug, still ecstatic

But peering at the world with eyes myopic.

The fragrance once again drugs their senses

Their past merges with the present and mangles the tenses.

Her hand upon his chest becomes his hand

He drifts into sleep, and her eyes close.

But she suddenly jerks out of her sleep

Shakes him out of his sleep to ask,

“Did you have your medicines, love?”

“Did you?” He asks, groggily

And then they snuggle closer, like silken threads

In a treasured tapestry.

SPECKLED SONGS

Now, I am an ancient book

Dog-eared and yellow, tinged with hues mellow

Splattered with the shards of a sixteen year old‘s heart

Bloated with unshed tears, mute screams, unrealized dreams.

In those frayed pages, also many secrets lurk

Squint-eyed in the all-encompassing murk.

Speckled songs, sweet and sour, and bizarre

Dazzling with metaphors intricate

A sudden down pour erases those words

Tired, drowsy, sad and funny too

A tumultuous gale sweeps away the pile

Ah, a clank

A blank

Yes..

A bl…a..nk

Silence

Magical

And the lurking embers in the pile smirk at

Death’s shenanigans.

WHERE THERE IS SMOKE THERE IS FIRE

They say.

But some hearts burn without smoke

Singeing the entire being.

Or maybe they internalize the smoke

And choke

Suffering a fiery annihilation

Without smoke.

The hunched woman sits near the autumnal chinar leaves

Stoking and poking and turning the burning leaves.

But none knows her heart grieves

[Oh how it grieves!]

For her teenage son who just disappeared one day.

She remembers his childhood chortles and milk bottles

His curly wisps of hair, and his lisps.

Two tears trickle down her withered cheeks

To merge with the fire.

The smoke from the burning chinar leaves

Envelops her in a smoky hug.

Hiding the fire burning within.

Her heart burns but none sees the smoke

Cloaked within her shriveled breast

Lethal, destroying her bit

By bit

By bit.

 THE POOR-RICH MAN

Ragged and disheveled, lost in reverie

Sat he under the skeletal tree

Lamenting his poverty.

The icy wind sliced through his clothes

Gossamer thin.

The din of the maddening world

Around him unfurled.

Was Hope really the thing with feathers?

A little lark singing in the dark?

A glowworm glowing bright?

A cat cavorting in the lunar night?

Alas, there was no hope for those stricken with poverty.

He wrung his hands, gritted his teeth

Hunched he sat, eyebrows bunched.

Then he drifted into sleep

Covered by night’s dark attire, deep.

The night slept too.

Hey what was that? Was it a coup?

In the east, there was beauty cascading in abundance

Golden.

Sparkling water, laughing sunshine, golden slivers in the creek

And birds gold-streaked.

Someone out there was spinning magic.

Beholden, at nature’s poetry, tired eyes, he rubbed

Mesmerizingly watching an untiring spider

Weaving dreams on a shrub

Sun- kissed.

Nature strode forward open –armed

The beggar was charmed.

The sun went into an orgy of kissing

The branches, the bushes, the terraces, the leaves

The roofs, the spires, the patio, the awnings, the eaves.

One sunbeam clung to his lips

Aha, the poor man, was in luck

In his life poverty –stricken, gold had been struck.

The hues of poetic nature had enveloped this cast-off into its fold.

Wherever he looked, there was gold!

SANTOSH BAKAYA

Dr SANTOSH BAKAYA: Although she has a doctorate in modern political theory , Dr Bakaya has always been Intensely passionate about Literature.   An academician , critic - poet -essayist - novelist , she has made her mark both in prose and poetry. Her three mystery novels, [The mystery of the Relic, The mystery of the Jhalana fort and The mystery of the Pine cottage] for young adults were very well received in the late 1990s. Flights from my terrace, her e-book of 58 essays,  published on Smashwords in October 2014, now has a printed version, published by Authorspress , India. Ballad of Bapu, a poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, published by Vitasta publishers, Delhi in 2015, is also being acclaimed internationally. Her essays on Mahatma Gandhi and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.have been published in Gandhi Marg, a quarterly journal of GANDHI PEACE FOUNDATION. She has also been published and interviewed in Cafe Dissensus and  has contributed in national and international anthologies, like those published by Poets, artists Unplugged [Colours of Refuge and Resonance] many of them having figured in the highly commendable category in Destiny Poets, a U. K based poetry website. Her poetry has also appeared in Learning and Creativity- Silhouette magazine, in Incredible women of India, in an Australia based e-zine, Mind Creative, In Brian Wrixon’s anthology and the online magazine Episteme, published from Mumbai. She has co-edited UMBILICAL CHORDS: AN ANTHOLOGY ON PARENTS REMEMBERED, published by Global Fraternity of Poets, Gurgaon, Haryana. Where are the lilacs? [A compilation of her 111 peace poems] was launched in 2016 and is getting rave reviews. Under the apple boughs , her second compilation of poems will soon hit the stands. She has also been a featured poet in Pentasi B World Friendship poetry and was conferred with the Universal Inspirational Poet Award jointly by Pentasi B and the Ghana Government in May 2016. She received the International Reuel Award for writing and literature 2014, for her long poem OH HARK!, which now forms part of THE SIGNIFICANT ANTHOLOGY and  also  the INCREDIBLE WOMAN OF THE YEAR 2015 award instituted by The Incredible women of India blog. The Poet Laureate award instituted by Poetry Society of India was conferred on her for her book Ballad of Bapu recently. She also received   the AAGMAN TEJASWANI AWARD 2017 , instituted by the AAGMAN GROUP , India ,  on International Women's day in Delhi. Although hailing from Kashmir, India, she stays in Jaipur, Rajasthan, India with her husband and university going daughter.