A Tree

                                                                                                                                                                                             

A tree doesn’t need money,

You may cut it and make money,

But it doesn’t .

A tree doesn’t want to be famous,

You may take a picture and hang it on a wall,

But it doesn’t .

A tree doesn’t need a name,

You may classify it and put it in a family,

But it doesn’t.

A tree doesn’t need music

Nor does it need a tv or a book;

You may sing aloud in its shade,

But it doesn’t need any.

A tree doesn’t want to achieve,

It doesn’t want to go places,

Its leaves may fall and roll;

But it doesn’t.

A tree is its own home;

You may clear it and make a home for yourself;

But it doesn’t need one.

A tree blooms with all its colours;

For me, for you, for us, for itself,

We may have ten theories;

But it blooms.

And a tree dies;

And lives fully before it does;

You might be still thinking of rebirth;

But it dies.

I feel it this way!


It is very important to quit organisations, political, economic and social. It is important because organisations wield power, authority and domination over human beings. Here we are not referring organisation as an abstract entity, it consists of people. The ones who dominate and the ones who accept domination both make the organisation a very uncomfortable place to live in.

Those who accept domination force you with social control to accept domination. Those who dominate, the less said the better.

It may seem that the society might go into chaos if everyone quits, but any such chaos must be far better than the existing situation.

I have to


What a nice flute you gave me to play!

I have learnt it playing, finally,
After faltering, failing,
Sometimes, putting aside it in a disappointed mood
And then taking it up again!

I never thought I would play like this!

But you never seemed to like my song!
You stayed still and never said anything!
But I kept on playing the flute as if Eternity was the end!

But one day, in one of those breaks I took, to admire my flute,
You told me something silently, that I have to, return your flute.
I started playing again, with tears rolling down and passing through the holes!

And you seem to like it so much! My sad song!

I know I have to give back! But I cannot stop playing till then!

Dreams

On the canvas

The paintings I draw
Are very colourful;

Eyes in them
Always look into the future
Sometimes with desire
And sometimes
With fear

The moment I finish the painting
The paints drip from the two
Canvas tips

The painting is gone and
I find myself
In the midst of many colours.

Dreams that have become tears.

If you want to know me

My days are written
in the darkest of ink;

And my nights are
the white spaces;

So, If you want to know me,
read in between the lines.