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More rejection Little acceptance More failures Few successes Years of endless hours alone Only some in the public eye...  Countless fiascos Few eureka moments Lots of black and grey Few Reds and yellows Many not-nows Few red dots with wows Many will say, awesome  You are an artist Few will understand,  why...  More times with no funds  Few with surplus More times of being in red Few in blue Many years of waiting Before the fame, if ever No retirement, no pension Ideas constantly brewing You chose to be an artist Unparallel joy To forget the pain Marks left  To go on after one has gone Issues immortalised Moments frozen  Emotions etched  Anger splashed Walls adorned Metro stations beautified  Homes brightened  Souls replenished Awards won Works validated  Articles written People inspired You chose to be an artist  A life never easy  Like a trek up the hill Incredible view; deep valley Two sides of the same coin A mixed bag ...

You were the 1st thing I noticed  When the car climbed up to clifton Standing tall  Branches twisted and entangled  Like the present day human relations All near you green and straight You were dancing to your own tune... I named you the rebel tree. You became my muse... I captured you  With the first rays of the morning sun  Mellow and yellow And with the last rays You a silhouette With the rising moon And the dramatic clouds I captured you just like that... You were the one where the barbets Perched and howled, much to Dudo's anguish You were the one where the birds rested before they flew off to the next and the next tree You were the one the langoors escaped to When Kishan and Sanju chased them You were also the one where the flying squirrel Took a pit stop before landing on the English oak You saw a lot, most of which I am not even aware But you saw me fall in love with you and the Ash tree and the English Oak...

If I were to be something else  tree I would be Devdar or a mighty oak Standing tall on the mountain slopes My roots be spread far and deep Entwined with the others near me Holding tight to the soil,  Rocks and water As would be my branches  Shooting up to the sky...  Bare and naked in autumn and winter Shedding all that I have   Carpet of brown leaves beneath On which I walk carefully In another world  Where I don this human form In the other months The branches lush green with foliage  Allowing the sun to sprinkle itself  From between to reach the ground As I sit under, In my human form, I capture the magic of light and shade...   Nothing lasts forever and fade we must Mightiest of trees also go...  So when time comes let me fall silently On a dark monsoon night Fall such that the path is not blocked That me in my human form can still walk past on The  hike to the jungles And occasionally rest on me for a while  As ...

I visit a mango orchard in Uttar Pradesh--my birth state.  Almost all, but a few trees had been harvested. They stood still, exhausted but happy after a bumper crop. The few which still bore the almost ripe chausa mango appear like a woman in full term. The fragrance of the leaves, the scent of the ripeness still on trees reach me with the light breeze caressing my being, all of it intoxicating. I am transported to my childhood home in Kanpur. We lived in a huge 3-storey house built by my grandfather. He had a green thumb and an immense love for fruiting trees. One because he loved fruits and two because he loved to light a fire each night during winter months, in our cozy fireplace and needed firewood. Our house had a mini    orchard. There were 5 mango trees, 4 lemon trees of different varieties, 1 pomegranate, 1  sweet lime, a chandan tree and a neem tree. A bougainvillea shrub, 2 gulmohar trees, 2 ashoka trees, chameli, kamini , lilies, roses, and bel...

message sent blue ticks stare at me silence speaks (c) shubhra  October 17th, 2021 ++++++ conversations  in your head or mine unwired emotions (c) shubhra October 6, 2021  ++++++ pouring rain river like roads my WFH oasis (c) shubhra September 11, 2021 ++++++ thundering clouds rumbling inside unzen-like meditation (c) shubhra September 11, 2021 ++++++ Loaded mango tree— reminisce of my lost home baggage of the past (c) shubhra September 12, 2021

धूप की तरह बिखरी हुई सी कभी चांदनी सी पिघली हुई  होली के गुलाल सी उड़ती हुई  या बादलों सी  मस्त, आकाश में पैटर्न बनाती हुई  अजीब सी कुछ थी वो...  जहां जाती थोड़ा कुछ अपना छोड़ आती  कुछ थोड़ा उसका उठा लाती  समन्वय थी वो, मिली जुली...  जब गई तो,  बहुतों का जरा कुछ चला गया उसके साथ  कुछ ने बयान  किया ऐसे जैसे सबकुछ थी वो  कुछ  ने सिर्फ खामोश  अश्कों से उसे याद किया  मगर सबका थोड़ा कुछ चला गया उसके साथ  वो सब की थी  उसका कौन, किसी को नहीं पता  वो अपने साथ सबका कुछ ले गई  अपना क्या किसके पास छोड़ा किसी को नहीं पता...  अजीब सी थी, पर, क्या थी, क्यूँ थी क्या क्या छोड़ गई  और क्या क्या ले गई   कौन थी, कैसी थी,  क्यूँ थी, सब की थी  या किसी की नहीं  किसी को नहीं पता धूप की तरह बिखरी हुई सी या चांदनी सी पिघली हुई  रंग भरा पैलेट या खाली सफेद कैनवस अधुरी किताब या पूरी पेंटिंग किसी को नहीं पता किसी को कुछ नहीं पता बस ज़रा सी थी  बिखरी सी  यहां वहां  जान...