THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.
A brave soldier, won several battles
Several bruises and injuries,
Mark the history of Aryavarta.
One whose footprints, shake the earth beneath.
Whose sword, as swift as the wind.
One who smells of dried blood.
The armour encircling his firm chest.
The curly hair, drifts along the wind.
Eyes sharp as a sword.
Coming back home after the victory,
Missing the old flames of love.
Awaiting the soft touch from the beloved.
Trespassing the mind with the touch of wind.
The sudden usurpation of mind and soul,
But, night having a different plan ahead,
With the victor being abducted.
Losing the battle, and himself.
The hands and feet, tied,
Blindfolded under the sky,
Thrown at an uninhabited Island.
Like caging a raging lion,
He screams to ask for help,
All efforts in vain!
The seagulls making noise,
The gravitating drizzle,
Dancing on the topsoil.
The soil smells rainy,
I hear light footsteps approaching.
Slowly and steadily,
I ask for the identity.
The visitor keeps silence,
And takes a round around me,
While I feel the presence known.
The visitor throws liquid on my chest,
It smells of the known fragrance.
And takes the sword out my waist,
Slides it around my throat,
Hurting a bit!
Making the victor feel vulnerable,
Unarmed, tied, kneeled and blindfolded.
The sudden burst of flowers,
And a tilak between the brows,
And the red color all over the face.
Perhaps, the preparation to sacrifice.
The visitor unties the hand from the sword,
Keeping the sword on my throat,
Not allowing the hostage to unblindfold.
I, pretending to be scared,
Turn the table around,
Holding the pretty visitor in my arms.
The only one who could dare to abduct,
The Victor!
Hugging from behind, giggling together
Her night-blooming perfume,
Making the surroundings fragrant.
Her warm eyes, my cold blood
Meeting after a long dry spell.
The swan shaped wooden ship,
Awaiting the sailors on the shore.
I lift the night-blooming in my arms,
And take her to the ship,
The oceanic gales await,
To drench the voyagers.
Making me sit on the throne,
She dances around me.
Filling my colourless soul with colors.
The Ocean of love!
Drugged by her whirlwinds,
Like the Earth dancing around the Sun.
The white-golden dress,
The golden jewellery around her neck,
Sparkling around her olive Asian skin.
The bioluminescent oceanic waters,
Sparkling with the raindrops,
Jealous of her effortless luminescence.
She comes close with her light,
To perform Hindu ritual of worship,
With a lit earthen lamp, flowers and tilak,
Celebrating the coming of beloved.
The raging oceanic gales,
The rising tides of love under the Blue Moon,
Drench the visitor and the victor.
The battlefield of love!
Await the love making amidst the ocean,
Just below the blue sparkling skies.
The raging water, getting colder with night.
The dolphins dancing around the ship.
The darkness of the night,
Dark enough to see,
Only eyes, meeting eyes.
The Moon and stars know the stories,
Unheard and unseen to others.