Tuesday, 27 March 2012

golf

yesterday i went into the heart of a golfer,
walking alone in the night
over a golf course we have in the city.

i have never played the game in my life
and have often wondered
what it is the fun in this game,
hitting a ball with a club
till the ball falls into a hole!

and so i walked
over this golf course,
alone,
starlit,
yesterday night.

a million sparkling stars twinkled in the skies
and there were trees, etched in black artistry,
silhouetted against the subdued glow of the horizon,
the grass undulating over the course
and the sandy bunkers,
the cushioned squeak of my feet,
over the wet grass,
a vague unidentifiable fragrance in the breeze,
the hooting of an owl...

and i thought:
if i hit the ball from where i stand,
i will have to factor in the distant
hooting of the owl,
the wind and its fragrance,
the bunkers,
the inky blotches of oblivion, dancing still,
in the trees,
my stance and backlift and follow-through
as i swing the club in an arc,
the steel of the club,
the temper and bounce of the ball,
the laws of gravity,
the roll of the gentle slope of the neatly mowed grass,
the wetness of dew on each leaf of grass,
and thence the narrow path to the hole...

and i understood why some people are crazy about golf.

*****

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

eagle

can you imagine a condition
free from all conflicts?
you don't have to rush to be in time for any train...
no train waits for you at the station. no one is waiting anywhere to discuss with you business; you have nothing engaging your mind...you are empty of  thoughts.

then you feel like an eagle.
the lightness of the eagle floods into your heart,
filling the whole of your being and you feel weightless as you float up
and circle high in the sky...
naked, defenceless, in the full glare of the sun, never knowing a bother about being so vulnerable, yet not knowing a bother about the word vulnerable either...

you float unseen,
high in the sky, like the eagle, its eyes
picking up each movement on the ground.

*****

Monday, 19 March 2012

Tuesday, 6 March 2012

one of the things

one of the things so funny in us
in this present-day world of indecision--
not knowing what, where--
is our propensity to shut ourselves out
and listen only to the roar from the gallery.

they tell me my father has committed treason;
so i slay him
and i exult in them exulting in the hero in me.

*****