Thursday, January 17, 2019

You are magnificent

Chakra by Neha 
There are those who whos
who will ask
you to shrink, lest your
vastness get shrunk by outside
forces  - so better shrink thyself in advance in
anticipation they say and so be.

I say - don’t listen to them!!

Expand your heart and being
so your
expansiveness may make your
being inhabit your infinite
And, at times, maybe maybe
your magnificent magic will
also expand others out of their
shrunken selves.

- Neha

Monday, December 31, 2018

Long Afternoon At The Edge Of Little Sister Pond

चलना और स्थिरता by Neha 
As for life,
I’m humbled,
I’m without words
sufficient to say

how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over,

and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched

though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen –
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.

Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort –
along with human love...


Still, what I want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled —
to cast aside the weight of facts

and maybe even
to float a little
above this difficult world.
I want to believe I am looking

into the white fire of a great mystery.
I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing —
that the light is everything — that it is more than the sum
of each flawed blossom rising and fading. And I do.

- Mary Oliver

Ye Khayal Accha Hai

बूगनबेल by Neha 
Aur bazaar se le aaye agar toot gayaa
Saagar-e-Jam se mera jaam-e-sifaal achaa hai

unke dekhe se jo aa jaati hai munh par raunaq,
woh samajhtey hain ke beemaar ka haal achaa hai

dekhiye  paate hain  ushshaaq buton se kya faiz,
ik brahman ne kaha hai, ke yeh saal achaa hai

ham ko ma.alūm hai jannat kī haqīqat lekin
dil ke ḳhush rakhne ko 'ġhālib' ye ḳhayal achaa hai

- Mirza Ghalib

A Speech at the Lost-and-Found

Tuesday, December 25, 2018


Sign language at the doorstep by Neha 

At the meeting of
metaphors -
will you be present?
or do you prefer
the dungeon
of supreme

- Neha

The Secret

Tabiir by Neha 
Two girls discover  
the secret of life  
in a sudden line of  

I who don’t know the  
secret wrote  
the line. They  
told me

(through a third person)  
they had found it
but not what it was  
not even

what line it was. No doubt  
by now, more than a week  
later, they have forgotten  
the secret,

the line, the name of  
the poem. I love them  
for finding what  
I can’t find,

and for loving me  
for the line I wrote,  
and for forgetting it  
so that

a thousand times, till death  
finds them, they may  
discover it again, in other  

in other  
happenings. And for  
wanting to know it,  

assuming there is  
such a secret, yes,  
for that  
most of all.

Denise Levertov

Monday, December 24, 2018

New in Old

The Drip by Neha 
To new adventures on old roads -
through scars of skin and country
new spirit shall rise
through all that is buried and broken
rebellion flowers shall shine.
Memory memory o memory
May we at once remember and forget -
so from old soil, new papyrus, in innocence shall ripe.

- Neha 


Miniature, India, Bundi,18th century
Forty-two years ago (to me if to no one else
The number is of some interest) it was a brilliant starry night
And the westward train was empty and had no corridors
So darting from side to side I could catch the unwonted sight
Of those almost intolerably bright
Holes, punched in the sky, which excited me partly because
Of their Latin names and partly because I had read in the textbooks
How very far off they were, it seemed their light
Had left them (some at least) long years before I was.

And this remembering now I mark that what
Light was leaving some of them at least then,
Forty-two years ago, will never arrive
In time for me to catch it, which light when
It does get here may find that there is not
Anyone left alive
To run from side to side in a late night train
Admiring it and adding noughts in vain.

- Louis Macneice

Mera Pata (My Address)

Sky in by Neha

Aaj main apne ghar da number mittaiyan hai /
Today I have erased the number of my house

Te gali de matthe de lagaa gali da naam hataaiya hai/
And removed the stain of identity from my street’s forehead

Te har sadak di disha da naam punjh ditta hai/
And I have wiped off the directions on each road

Par je tussa mainu zaroor labhna hai/
But if you really want to meet me

Ta har des de, har sheher di, har gali da booha thakoro /
Then knock at the doors of every country, every city, every street

Ih ik sraap hai, ik var hai/
This is a curse, a blessing. 

Te jitthe vi sutantar rooh di jhalak paavey /
And wherever the glimpse of a free spirit exists
........samajhna uh mera ghar hai /
Understand that as my home. 

- Amrita Pritam

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Sunshine and Onions

Pickled by Neha 

When I was young,
I had no poetry or friends.

Now I’m old,
with poetry and friends.

Life that does not give,
also gives.

That poetry and friends have
found their way to me
in this labyrinth of life -

To be able to express
myself to myself, first and foremost.

To make the anguish of love
and love of loves, the clay

To soak in sunshine
and onions

in preparation for pickles
on a cold autumn day.

- Neha