Aniruddha Pathak Poems

Look the lead pages; look all dailies—
A storehouse of sordid stink and sleaze,
Competing each to each,
Racing, rare heights to reach,
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Let providence if pleased be, bless
Me to help spot my happiness,
Show me a map— a vague image
Upon my life's nearest blank page;
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O to die old man, tasks left un-leaven,
To return— a fake coin to this planet;
Work harder, yet more mileage points to earn
That heaven calls goodly deeds done to date,
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Riot of rainbow colours everywhere,
Touched I'm by festival's ecstatic air.
These colours of many a shade so rife
Manifest to me unity of life.
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The land you've grown on be His
As water and sunlight is;
I'm no more than a keeper
And claim to be no owner;
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Pundits and priests, souls learned,
Pious pouts educated,
I asked whoso might well tell,
In plainest words hope to spell;
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Not whatso of this world
You'll take with you, I've often heard,
Nothing whatso,
When you die and go;
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O thou life's twain called love and hate,
What if I see you separate?
Love would be prime— no predicate,
Under the garb of love can hide no hate.
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A man said, I'm gifted,
So are all, a voice said.
Every man comes gifted
With gifts inherited,
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Pray, take those lying lips away,
Which sweetly, so sweetly swear lies,
Now that there is light of the day,
Clear are seen swollen lies in eyes.
...