April 8 “Everything will be all right. Don’t worry. Thanks for everything.

” Words that put my Mind to sleep. He walked away, she chose Not to return. “Given you trouble at this age”. “We are with you, my dear.” Years ago, She walked away; I chose not to ask why. Those times I slept well. Now there are Nights without sleep. I walk through the day Telling a hundred stories To myself with the same ending – Going away. April 9 All our philosophy Of millennia vintage Turns its back On injustice of centuries. The lone lama wanders Through the world Attracting attention To the occupation of his homeland. There is space for him in our heart, And we lose sleep if tribals refuse To make way for mines leaving their forest land. We have time for messengers of peace, for strong men of development, for weak men hankering after nuclear power and for middlemen talking weaponry. We lose no sleep when Ragpickers’ slums are gutted; the city got cleaned up. We have discovered a formula To get rid of poverty. Recruit the poor in the police force And get them finished in the jungles of Dantewada At the hands of the militant poor. It’s their destiny. There’s nothing More practical than philosophy.

April 10 Power supply went off again. There was no water in the tank. We could not run the washing machine. We waited and when power came again The water wasn’t sufficient to feed the machine. These things happen here and we are used to it now, so don’t fret and fume about it. Instead watch the match on the TV. My team lost there too. This morning I chose to read the newspaper from front to back – after many years. It only carried stories of women and their grit, determination, kindness and beauty. --I have never seen an oasis; I don’t need to. April 11 The heat is getting on to me. Been trying to open My mind With the usual key Of solitude. The lever turns But the inside latch is on. Never happened before. Need help – the keys man cometh. Open I must, it’s now or never. I will be an outsider for eternity. There is plenty of help Coming without asking. Try another key, they suggest. It doesn’t work. Nothing now remains but To climb up, open the door To the upper reaches and get in. I can’t, but there is my Krishna to do it. It’s so peaceful to be helpless!

April 12 Not happy with The way things turned out You tried to change The world. Nobody took note. Then tried to change your ways. Nobody was interested. Screamed and shouted. Some turned to look. You then got tattooed On arms, legs, back and Lower back. They now feature you unpaid in their columns. The ultimate unclaimed death. April 13 I am intrigued By the sheer idea. Releasing ancestors From the psyche And setting them on the path of liberation. I am already lodged In the deep recesses of the mind of my children. How will I get release If they don’t even know I am there? I don’t buy this, Not on the 97th birth anniversary of my father. He passed away 24 years ago.

April 14 The fruit is in the making even when it is not seen. Sometimes the wind cheats to blow the tiny one away. It could be the clouds that play truant to roast the young 'un. Or the rains that cause an early fall. If it lives to ripen and fall into your lap it is truly Nature's gift. A gift is not something you earn by the sweat of your brow. It's from a love in the heart to a heart in love. Then life is in the making. April 15 “I am waiting to walk, But you need the money At the end of the day, you know.” The mind that spins illusions has an urge to create or destroy but no resolve to take consequences. It hides the fear underneath the illusion, the verbal gymnastics and the scholarly search, without moving. He moved, he spent the money and walked away. (Suhas T, Sandeep A)

April 16 Here I was going through every synapse in the brain to prepare a short presentation on the future of humankind; there he was asking if the food would be from my native cuisine and if the audience would have a fair sprinkling of fair sex - his major incentives. He had 'finished' the future of mankind in a jiffy. April 17 There is this thing.. about life that stops you from stepping out; makes me feel guilty to miss my exercises, to stay a little longer in bed, to have another cup. I hear a stern voice from the past that says Miss your meals if you miss your studies. I miss that voice, for it never meant literal.

Love and care... give a little of it to yourself and add a little respect.

April 18 They spoke of the injustice I meted out to them over the centuries. “Any history in which We don’t figure Is not our history.” They made it simple and clear. It’s like all your floors uprooted and hurled over back of beyond. I cling to the only thing available – The walls. All my life I put up walls To mark my ground My ground. Here come the yuppies To question my Foundations speaking Some alien language. They can’t take a location Ha! There’s no floor left. I make a suggestion – Let’s pull the walls down And see if we can make a floor Out of those. The yuppies are still thinking With their stuckness, I have become the wallclock.

April 19
What better thing to do on a weekend than to clean up your masks? I took them out and while doing it, a faded newspaper fell out too showing the faded dolls on it. A cord floated in from nowhere with words strung into it. Even faded dolls can be attractive to children, it said. I couldn't stand it, but then one of the masks said, hey let it hang in there; it livens up the room. April 20

It’s the place that pulled us down and now we are going to pull it down. A clean break doesn’t come easily to either the young or the old. Only a cold calculating machine can do it.

But there’s something out there and there is some place in the mind. Mind is what we carry and mind is not what I want to lose.
April 21 Have I lost it? I want to get over it - be done with it. It’s gone too deep, you know. Will make sense of it later. Let time take care of it. I will take care of it and may pain flower to bear the fruit of wisdom. But no more words for now. Just silence. April 22
I am stranded this side not able to reach out to him and to her; you are already on the other bank. Did you acquire the power of walking on water? Anything is possible for you the milk of kindness flows through your veins. I check from time to time if my heart is still in place.

April 23 Not here, the mind says searching for a stable footing – it’s all sand.

All my houses were of sand. It was fun for the waves, for the sand, for others. Not for me. This big thing About building – Why not simply Be sand? April 24 It’s by accident That I discovered I am an artist. I want my work To be just so, Not a line here Not a line there. I don’t have time For others’ ideas In my work. It’s my Creation and let me Have the freedom To do it my way. It’s a work of art After all and not The day’s work. “All my life I have swallowed Your irritations And carpings.” Agreed, but aren’t Artistes to be pampered? Every detail has to be in place, If it has to fetch appreciation. The purpose of art is to Imitate God in controlling One’s creation. My life’s story. April 25 You asked me to get a better mask for myself and I have been shopping. What will I do with the old one?

You'd throw it away, but who knows? I might need it again. I wonder, if between you and me we never needed them, why should I need one to face the world? Shops for masks don't close. April 26
Always taunted for not being practical I repair appliances by telling the repairman where the fault lies. This morning I mistook in the market gourd for cucumber only because the paper slip was not written legibly. It's quite practical not to read what you once wrote famously. Poet it is whose finger moves on having written...

April 27 With the morning breeze float in memories of Home, far away, distant. Her pace quickens with the rays of the sun to meet the day ahead. She has to sweep Wash Clean Cook. Winding her way through the lanes she has to mind

the stray dogs that stir at her footstep. Suddenly words drop on her like a summer shower – Words spoken in her tongue in this distant land; She looks up – someone her age but in t-shirt and pants and shoes, going for her morning walk, briskly, talking on the cell disappearing in the morning mist. There is heat after a summer shower. April 28

When he started and kept up barking at her I was stabbed to my past heartless, drunken with hubris, insensitive, dictatorial. And she, a picture of composure firmly centred, not paying heed to the commands; quite unlike mine. Then he lectures on the harm done by higher education and empowerment. At least I supported liberation by word if not deed. Here was future calling for liberation of the past. Men too shall rise and follow women on march.

April 29 The sun has scorched some and not other plants on the terrace. Not more water but more shade they ask for. I am that old tree on the road giving shade to passers by. I am scorched. I am free with a big hug to anyone who brings water to me. What a little bit of love cannot do? April 30 What a weak will can do with a little help from friends? To the parched earth first showers of summer do very little but mean so much. I was lost in wilderness of dried dreams with broken backs and then suddenly a downpour without warning swept me to the edge. It’s clear Blue Sky Now All around.

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