THE BY LANES OF LIFE

rd1
On to the by lanes of life,
Away from screeching highways of ‘intolerance’.
It is nice to be alone at times.
Thoughts are now scattered in tangential sunlight,
I really do not know where I belong.
Or perhaps I belong everywhere.

rd2
Belonging? That’s a substantial question.
Do I belong to Santiniketan? India? Planet Earth?
Or to time? Family? Parents? Friends?
Or to thousands of years of religion?
Or to mankind? To the concept of Survival of the Fittest?
No, right now, I want to traverse beyond all these,
To somewhere else.
All I have now is the by lanes.

rd3
By lanes however never lead me to anywhere.
But I am always back to the roots of life,
Time unfolds, but without any message,
I hardly know where I am moving to.
Knowledge is proving to be a huge complication.
Perhaps it is time to unlearn!

rd4
I have no idea who has the most value to life?
The dust, the broom, the fallen leaves or myself?
Somewhere down the line, all appears equal.
Nothing really matters.
Or everything matters?
Have any idea?

rd5
On these basic premises life moves.
Abundantly beautiful in any case,
While some can feel and express,
Others just meander.
It is just another matter, that,
Without having nothing in particular to say,
I am trying to eke out a poem.

rd6
I have often wondered if beauty ever needed expletives.
Beauty essentially hardly care for any appreciation.
And it is best inhaled in silence.
Language never gave any better clarity
To the core concepts of life.
We have only complicated the essence of Truth
By trying to express it.

rd7
Oh, I am amazed at the expression galore in India now,
Everyone is hell bent to express
Love, Animosity, Hatred, Vile, Guile, God and what not.
Tolerant, Secular, Indian, National, Constitution,
So on and so forth.
Honestly it is best now to get lost in the by lanes of life.
The basics here are silent and simple.

rd8
Juts the other day I was a kid,
Half-pedaling through the lanes of Santiniketan,
Every ounce of time was precious,
The heart pumped, eyes were wide.
This day I am grown up,
And I had to learn to take my eyes off,
From many things of life, mostly ugly.
However the by lanes remain the favorite escapade.

rd9
Do you still think it is poetry?
Actually it is just photography, and nothing else.
Seeing- the first data that enters our brain,
Has just been processed and filtered.
Maybe they say something, maybe not.
But they are suggestive.
Along the way I also learn,
And learn mostly by silence.
I really do not know who expresses better
The realities of life, voice or the voice less?
Whom should I listen to?

rd10
In any case flower beds are not for everybody,
Only a select few can actually enjoy it!

rd11
Thanks, Shubhashis

This entry was posted in campus & community. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply