Friday, June 13, 2014

The Gulmohar Marg

When I traverse
This lane of lushness…
Under this shed of shadow…
Every evening…
I behold,
This gush of rare breeze-
And the petals that plunge-
Of the Gulmohar bloom-
On this tarred road…

As I stroll-
Through this tunnel of trees!
The blur shade of couples
In the distant-
Walking, too…
I speculate not-
The ruthless air-
Improbable chance-
Like the gush of breeze
And the blush of petals!
Must be unleashing
Their souls!

This shed-
Must have witnessed
The generation of us-
Roaming underneath
Hopeless thoughts,
Occupied solitude-
And failed attempts…
Their sad shadows-
Must have touched-
The boughs of the Gulmohar-
I less wonder…

“Off for the walk?”
A friend of mine yells-
The clatter of that cycle-
“Yes, I am done for the day”
I whisper-

The Gulmohar Marg
On the backdrop…
I less wonder, again-
About this wonder!
I progress…

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"
To the walkway- The Gulmohar Marg
of IISc.
6:10pm-13th June,2014


Monday, June 9, 2014


Sleepless, I called…
That dozen of sombre nights,
When I found myself-
In the loneliness, in that crowd!
In the darkness, under those lights!

I searched for the verses
That I lost-
And the rhyme
That hates me now!
With the words-of-meaningless worth!
To find that poetry-
In the flow of river-
That shall never end!
On the street of homeless hopes
Where lays the dreamless eyes…
And in the cries of destitute-
Those passed by!

I paid no attention to them,
I blame this pensiveness,
In me!
For it was-
When I was caught in-
The bewilderment…
Of the stars that twinkled
On the reflection of that Sky
Yon, on the sea!
And I pretended-
As if,
I was not deluded!

They hate me, now
The rhymes in me-
For the verses I wrote-
Never stopped the flow so deep
Gave no dreams to that homeless chap,
And I still can heed those cries…
I wrote for the mortals-
For their filthy praise and claps!

I consoled my poetry,
As it gently pushed me away,
The disgust in that doggerel,
It left me-
In this space with no cohort…
 I stood accompanied-
In the throngs of thoughts and me!

I promise,
For one day I shall write-
The verse that-
Shall bring down the lethal conceit
With the words of delight-
I fear not breaking the pen-
If the wrong path, it follows
Through that dreary lane-
And to something that’s hollow-

I promise,
For one day I shall write-
Rhyme that shall opt-
The rhythm of rhyme-
And the verse that shall hold-
The tempo of time!

If you see,
That poetry-
passing by...
Through the worn-out curtains of that window,
Through the shadow of that broken lantern,
And the fences, the lovers hold-
Do not forget to convey-
My words-
“I am still waiting
On the street of homeless hopes”

 Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"
I miss the monsoon...