Summer!

I
Swaying neem trees,scorching heat.
Rending the stillness,Koel's cry sweet.
All else droops,sags,sleeps.
II
Swirling dust,heat-crazed noon,
Parched earth,Jasmine blooms
Over unripe mangoes,Children swoon.
III
Roads shimmer and melt
Taps run dry ,Tankers ply
Holiday for school,holiday for water .

The Peacock .

Sauntering on a Morning Walk

I chanced upon a dancing Peacock.

The Peacock is an Aristocratic pheasant

Who wears the Jewels his wife doesn't .

In matters of Dress,

He leans towards Excess.

He may be loud in voice and loud in colour

Yet, reduces you to a hapless Bird Ogler.

He carries all the glitter off

Without looking like a garish toff.

Nods his head with a strut and a swagger.

Quivering mass of turquoise,emerald and azure.

Like some Ornithological Celebrity,

He unwraps his feathers for all to see.

A display to Dazzle

As he sashays in a Circle.

What a Pose ! What a Stance !!

Send him to set afire the Red Carpet in Cannes !

तपिश के फूल.

नर्म  हवाओं ,हसीं  फ़ज़ाओं की आस 

दरकिनार करते हैं ,गुलमोहर,ज़कारंदा,अमलतास .

कहीं बोगुनविल्ला, मालती इठलाती 

मोतिया,चंपा, चमेली, बल खाती. 

जब हर ओर उड़ती है धूल

तब भी खिलते हैं ये चंद  फूल .

बिन बगिया ,माली, पानी के सहारे 

ये पेड़- नुमा गुलदस्ते, शायद खुदा ने खुद सँवारे. 

तपती धरती के सुलगते माथे पे -

रंग -ओ- बू  का एक हल्का सा आँचल तो हो.

Eucalyptus Obnoxious.

The mozzies hate it,

The Ozzies love it.

But I get rather tight-lipped

When I see the silver-barked Eucalypt.

I detest the way its (non) branches sway in the breeze

An anti-tree - a blot on all trees.

No shade,no shelter,no fruit,no food.

Acid buds fall where mango and neem once stood.

It spites the soil on which it grows

Turning arid fields and meadows.

Water sucker, pernicious-

Revels in monoculture obnoxious.

It grows fast,It burns fast

It kills other flora ,but lasts and lasts.

I often think, the Eucalyptus -

Is an embodiment of some Botanical Grudge or Animus.

ख़ास खबर .

 बारिशों  में  सब्ज़ शाखों का मचलना ,

बसंत में शोख कलियों का चटकना,

बहुत दिलकश ज़रूर- पर कोई ख़ास खबर नहीं.

मगर अंगारों पे से गुजरी हुई इन गर्म हवाओं के आलम में 

सुर्ख गुलमोहर के फूलों का दहकना

साल-दर-साल मुझे  चौंकाता है.  

प्यासी धरती , सुलगते उफुक पर 

कुछ रंग-ओ-बहार छलकाता है.