Ananya Guha


This Time

I write once again of the whispering wind
cradled in nature's mythic past
what bewilders time?
what ails it?
the hills know, so do those stones immortalized
by the sky, the river red
and the wondrous fluttering
of leaves, but the sad monotone
of the cawing crow sidles into my umbrella
of pent up fears, which admonish
effervescence of bubbling dreams


Truth

... is an astonishing mountain

have you seen it ?

derelict joy, tears of sadness

every passing shadow is truth

celestial mountain, abode of

unreleased dreams

let’s climb this mountain

to unwind, midst cloudy,

tumultuous seas.


Tonight

there is no wistful wind,
nor springtime cherries
summer has tanned us into
fistful of sultry moments
the mind refuses to lift
from stupor, somewhere else
in this country, you will hear
of turbulent, boisterous floods
making enough clamor to awaken
sensibilities of the fourth estate
floods are meant for the starved
it is only us in our frigid
arid zones, who complain plaintively
of the heat; and sing dirges on it.

*previously published in Thanal Online - Issue 3 2006


Afternoon

The afternoon
sighs once again
for the rains
as cumulous clouds
envelop skies, and
me with my hauteur
desire once again
to play those little games
but the afternoon is like
the sunset, to take refuge
in the solitariness of these
forests, and hills, so I linger
continue lingering with hallowed
dreams, as the afternoon in equipoise
reminds us once again of winter time.


Skies

They look ruffled
as if beaten by the wind
weather forecasts say that
it is going to rain, but
these brow beaten skies
cloud beaten, weather driven
pay homage to the Goddess
in this festive season
I look up to them heavenwards
and pray for small mercies.

*both poems previously published in Muse India - 2nd Anniversary Issue