Dr.SANTOSH BAKAYA

Dr. santosh Bakaya

THERE IS A LAYER OF MIST IN SKY’S EYES

Was that light seeping through the blinds?

Ah, hallucination! Mere illusion!

There is no light, only darkness

Dismal, brooding clouds peer around

Creating a grating cacophony

Someone squirms in agony

Sightlessly.

The lakes have lost their shimmer

With every day, hope becomes dimmer.

Clouds rumble in staccato bursts of impetuous interjections

Pouring forth their bottled up wrath and intense frustration.

A banshee shrieks in an orphan’s nightmare.

Dark and dreary is the curfewed night

But rain falls with uncurfewed might.

And a vulture’s eyes shine bright

A mother throttles her sighs

And, there is a layer of mist in sky’s eyes.

The winds howl and the lakes rage

And the caged bird has fallen silent.

The sunbeams still suffuse the sky blue

But hush, danger still lurks in corners

The blind grope through dark alleys

Dust motes float with a forlorn air

In an eerie corner peace cowers

Over everything else, violence towers

Between life and death, silhouettes walk the thin edge

Unseeing eyes fixed on the spikelets of wilted flowers of the sedge.

A feather severed from wings

Drifts orphaned

And no bird sings.

Under a skeletal tree, an emaciated cat licks her wounds.

A mother throttles her sighs

Ah, look, there is again a layer of mist in sky’s eyes.

NIGHT WATCHED COCK-EYED

Night watched cock-eyed

Frowning at the street, tangled with busy people.

Busy dragging overstuffed suitcases, cartons of knick- knacks

Slivers of memories escaped from wall –cracks

Chasing them.

“Take us along, take us… “, they beseeched.

Howled and screamed and screeched.

At the cock-eyed night, they frowned back

With squints in their eyes [Or maybe tears?]

Ploughing on, hobbling and recoiling

Lugging, and hauling, incessantly toiling

Reluctantly exiting homes, blood boiling

Shuffling feet, muffling their sobs

Holding fast to their memories

Under their arms, next to the rib cage.

A boy clutches in his tiny hand

Just a crumpled page with squiggles.

A chortling toddler rides side –saddle

On his mom’s hip, joyously looking forward to the trip.

Eyes filled with swamp, chilled to the bones,

Hiding their groans

Some board flimsy rubber boats

In disheveled hair and shabby coats.

Battling high winds and rough seas

Jumping off a dinghy, and then crossing under a fence.

Nerves taut, eyes streaming, bodies tense.

A father kisses his daughter, walking through a rain storm

Hair disheveled, sad and ill of form

Hobbling as though on arthritic feet

Slumps against a rock

Holding his daughter next to his throbbing chest

Sagging with beleaguered acceptance.

She slips into fairyland and closes her eyes.

The father sighs.

The night watches cock-eyed.

I COME FROM THE LAND OF FLOWERS

I come from the land of flowers

And a love that overpowers

Straining to touch the moon, the clouds and the stars.

Warbler dear, perched on that barren tree

Why are your chirps, ah, so melancholy?

D’you miss the daffodils which hasted away too soon?

Or mourn that back-slapping bonhomie,

Of that bygone time, the cheery camaraderie

When you dissolved in ecstasy, perched on the luxuriant tree?

Don’t let your ears ring with screams of throttled dreams

Sing of the pageantry of meadows and cascading streams.

The scintillating grandeur of Chinar’s magicality

The sunlight on the mountaintops and its playful vivacity!

Collect twigs of those happy times, chirp metaphors of peace

Sing not of mountains cowering in fear, or the primrose wiping a tear

No more of strawberries taking to their hearts the color of gore.

See, how baby conifers stretch their tessellated arms,

Streamlets babble, feisty wavelets ripple and roar

And frisky cubs nuzzle each other

In their juvenile bid to erase those memories of gore.

Remember, I come from the land of flowers

And a love that overpowers

Straining to touch the moon, the clouds and the stars.

Dr. santosh Bakaya

Sanely insane, a pathological procrastinator, a die - hard believer in martin luther king’s dream and john Lennon’s 'imagine', dreaming of a day when there is ‘nothing to kill or die for’, and ‘all the people sharing all the world’, Santosh Bakaya has been critically acclaimed for her poetic biography of mahatma Gandhi, ballad of bapu,in may 2016, she was conferred with the universal inspirational poet award by pentasi b friendship poetry group and Ghana government. In august 2016 , she received the Dr. Yayati Madan Gandhi  international poetry award for  ballad of bapu and has also won the reuel international award [2014] for her long poem, oh hark! , Many of her poems have made it to the highly commendable category of destiny poets, a UK based poetry website, besides having figured in many international anthologies. Her latest book, where are the lilacs, a collection of peace poems, is also winning international laurels. She lives in jaipur with her husband and university going daughter.