Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Sniper


On a roadside cafe the hunter sits.
The deep eyes skate over the bustling crowd
in search of the hunt that often outwits-
teasing the patience of the hunter abound.
From far, squinting against the hot noon sun,
on foxy feet, arrives his enemy.
Amidst the noise, dangerously silent-
killer watches his eluding quarry.
He uncaps a poisonous needle,
eager to end these endless stalks.
But on a roof-top the sniper waits hidden,
just a trigger away to shorten his walks.
Bullet whooshes across the noisy street,
quiets the killer and his restless feet.

Friday, September 14, 2012

Alzheimer's

He gazes out the window as faces hurry by-
amuse him much for how they wander.
His over-stretched life now stands by.
Tasks that once thought vital now seem trivial.
But old memories in the jar scamper around.
The present - strange and blur.
Could fate lift the lid somehow?

Monday, September 3, 2012

Victorious

Often a flip between virtue and vice.
Forever at loggerheads,
apt to show their sides.
The ills seem fair in an inebriated state.
But the evil trembles with fear
when the malt evaporates,
and the good becomes clear.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

The Link

Giri was an ordinary boy. But one fine day, out of the blue, he began chanting Buddhist sutras in Magadhi, the ancient Buddhist language which he was never taught nor he had read anywhere. None of his parents was Buddhist. Giri was five years old then. Tracking down Giri's family tree, a Buddhist monk was found, some five hundred years ago, to be his only Buddhist ancestor. He was a scholar in Buddhist literature. His name was Raghu.
 

The Buddhist literature which Raghu knew and had memorized, somehow got stored in a particular cell of Raghu's brain. Raghu had a son but Raghu died before he could teach his son any of these Buddhist sutras. This brain cell of Raghu's, passed down generations but remained dormant. But since it was a powerful cell, even after five hundred years it came to life when it was passed on to Giri.

One powerful brain cell of Giri's, ignited and activated Raghu's dormant brain cell. Like a man waking up from coma after many years, Giri began reciting Buddhist sutras from Raghu's memory cell. But Giri couldn't understand a thing he was chanting since the language Magadhi was alien to him.


At the age of seven Giri took classes in Buddhism and learned Magadhi. Soon he could translate the sutras which flowed from Raghu's cell. A constant communication between Raghu's memory cell and Giri's brain cell, Giri began reciting  not only Buddhist sutras but also various little things like where Raghu lived, the name of his village, his family and few friends, the Buddhist temple where Raghu prayed regularly. And also few abstract things like a small pond outside Raghu's house where Raghu fed the ducks. Giri wrote all this down. He decided to visit Raghu's village when he grew up. Probably his ancestors were still living there.

 Giri wanted to go to this village where Raghu once lived and see if Raghu's memory cell connected any of the things it saw, which in turn might help and activate few more of Giri's ancestor's cells.