Return of the Arrows

Pushing me away off the Milkway
what you murmur in haste at my ear
I couldn't get, but later realized here.
All these sprout, and I feel the need with a sigh
to live in this prolonged but limited play
where living is a cocktail of hopes and addictions,
the dry thirst of a cactus to grow in desert
or to flow as a hidden stream within.

Oh! the benevolent, so your offer of five arrows
for my shrunken soul that shot from trembling fort,
so many bled and many got wounded
and some fell silent and some got defeated.

Now, I an assassin, a Chandashok dance
while my deceived moments lament
and I put a dark dot on calendar hung on my wall
and I know, I'm a sophomore waiting for the call.

The day the wall denied for more, I with horror
counted the dots; thought should I curse to myself ?

But without, I remain restless to return those arrows
that has made me a Karna of my sorrows!

Are you there with loose skin folds in disguise
or being a frightened Kunti? Don't ask me, is of no need
when my defeat is carved, long before in.

Still, I lived with raised bow and shooting arrows
to write my Mahabharat carrying the loads –
the loads of my senses.

Oh! the disguise, I'm disfigured and dazed
at your razor-look and my flesh falls off in red balls.
Since long, there waiting dogs and jackles for flesh
but now the cool and repentant Kurukshetra asks
the cause of war and the cause of bloodshed;
with my hung head I confess no gain, no gain with these arrows.

But, both Kurukshetra and the war are mine,
the fight is mine and the needful arrows were to shine.
But now, no more and not more I need
and ready to give up the arrows I greed.

Let the drops of light kiss me again and again
to turn me to an Outsider for the soft touch and warmth
before I rest on this silent pathway
here I kneel down and offer - take those away! Take those away!

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This also appears at Muse India, Jan-Feb 2011
http://museindia.com/viewrep2.asp?id=29574
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