The cricket who mattered

At three in today morning ,when I could no longer sleep I concentrated on the persistent cries of the cricket which pierced the nightly silence as though it was the only sound that made up the world.The invisible creature made such a ruckus far disproportionate to its physical proportions that I began to think that the cricket was blowing itself up in the cosmic scheme of things so as to really matter and and wrest a place on par with my own place in the scheme. The creature somehow seemed to matter and stood eyeball to eyeball to me.We looked at each other recognizing each other’s presence.

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Vishnu’s mountains

In the Udaygiri caves we looked around for our lost God,who was merely sleeping in the darkness .There he lay undisturbed by the blinding beauty of the hills or by the history’s long stony silences .Was that in the 2nd century B.C. ,when the monks hid in the caves doing penance or moved outside the rock niches ,from where the brown parched plains stretched interminably.

Nearer our times the white masters ,in riding hoods, roamed these hills and the brown plains discovering our heritage ,the heritage of a milenium.Their ghosts wandered in these hills and took shelter in lonely stone buildings.

God’s mountains

Invisible are their powers, unfelt and secure
The mountains lay there brown and puffing
In the mid-noon sun among yellow-dropped leaves
The scrolls on their walls dated back to eons
Brown-skinned ancestors shrieked, ghosts,
Their smelly wings flapped in cave-silences
Several worn-out paths winded to forgot ruins
There they stopped midway vanishing in bushes
The temple bells were heard under the banyan tree
The tree spread its hair reaching the steep slopes
It was the clouds that brought the brown haze
The sky ended up in blue torpor in penciled hills
There in the wilderness shrieked British ghosts
Collectors who had rested in lonely stone buildings
Pondering deeply on history’s ghosts lying supine
On broken temple foundations with missing walls
There in a stony niche slept God with his eyes closed
A lotus emerged from his navel, mysterious and born
In fact the whole of the world burst out from there