Friday 21 June 2024

ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದವಳು

ಕಳೆದು ಹೋಗಿದ್ದೆ ನಾನು ಬದುಕಿನಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲೋ
ನಾನಾಗಿ ನನಗಾಗಿ ಬದುಕಲಿಲ್ಲ

ಯಾತನೆಗಳ ಕೂಪದಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲೋ ತಂಪನೆಯ ಗಂಧ ಲೇಪ
ಉಸಿರುಗತ್ತಿಸುವ ಬದುಕಿನ ತಂಗಾಳಿಯ ಸ್ಪರ್ಶ ಲೇಪ
ಕುಡಿಯೊಡೆಯುವ ಕನಸುಗಳು ಮುರುಟಿ ಹೋಗುವ ಮನಸುಗಳು   
ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದ ನನ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಹುದುಗಿ ಹೋಗಿತ್ತೆಲ್ಲ ಕನಸುಗಳು  

 ಗುರಿ ಯಾರದೋ ಹೆಜ್ಜೆ ನನ್ನದು 
ಸುಳಿಯ ಸೆಳೆತ ಹೋರಾಟ ನನ್ನದು 

ನಿಶ್ಶಬ್ಧವಾಗಿ ಬಿಕ್ಕುವ ಪದಗಳು ನನ್ನವು
ಹೆರವರ ಹಾದಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ನಗೆಯ ಮುಖವಾಡ ನನ್ನದು 
ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದವಳು ನಾನು ಹುಡುಕಲೇಕೆ
ಹತ್ತು ನೂರು ಸಾವಿರ ಲಕ್ಷ ಕೋಟಿ ಅಕ್ಷೋಹಿಣಿ ಹೆಣ್ಮನಗಳು ಕಾಣೆಯಾಗುವುದೇಕೆ 

ಕರ್ತವ್ಯ ದ ಕೂಗಿಗೋ ಹೆರವರ ಕೂಳಿನ ಹಂಗಿಗೋ 
ಹೆದರಿ ಓಗೊಟ್ಟು ತನ್ನದೇ ಕಾಲ ತಾನೇ ಮರೆಯುವುದೇಕೆ 

ಉಸುಕಿನೊಳಗೆ ಬೆಂದದ್ದು ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದ ನಾನು 
ಹರಿವ ಹೊಳೆ ನೀರ ಸೆಲೆ ಹುಡುಕುತ್ತಾ ಕಳೆದೇ ಹೋದೆ ನಾನು 
ವ್ಯರ್ಥ ಬದುಕು ಬೇಡದ ಪಾತ್ರ ನೀಸಲಾಗದೆ ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದ ನನ್ನ ಹುಡುಕುವುದೇನು ಬಿಟ್ಟು ಬಿಡು 
ಸಿಗಲಾರೆ ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದ ನಾನು 
-ವೃಂದ ಸಿ ಎಂ

Sunday 28 April 2024

ಬಯಲು

 

ಬಯಲು

ಬಯಲಲ್ಲಿ ನಿಂತವಳು ನಾನು

ನೆರಳಲ್ಲಿ ನೀರಿಲ್ಲ ಬದುಕು ಬಟಾಬಯಲು

 

ಕೈ ಹಿಡಿವರಿಲ್ಲ ಕಾಯ್ವರೆನ್ನುವರಿಲ್ಲ

ಬದುಕಿದ್ದೇಕೆ? ಉತ್ತರಿಸುವರಿಲ್ಲ.

ಅವಲಂಬಿತರಿಗೆ ಕೈ ತುತ್ತು

ಉಣಿಸುತ್ತಾ ಹೋಗಬೇಕೆನ್ನುವ ಕಸರತ್ತು

ವಿಶಾಲ ಬಯಲಿನ ಕೊನೆ ಯಾರಿಗೆ ಗೊತ್ತು

 

ಥಟ್ಟನೆ ಬಯಲು ಕೊನೆಯಾಗಿ

ಮರಗಿಡ ಸೋನೆ ಮಳೆ ನನಗಾಸರೆಯಾಗಿ

ಉಳಿದ ನನ್ನವರು ತಂಪಾಗಿ ಸೊಂಪಾಗಿ

ಬೆಳೆಯಲಾಸರೆಯ ಹುಡುಕುತ್ತಾ ಬರಿದಾಗಿ

ಬಯಲಿಗೆ ಮರಳಿ ಹೋಗಲೇ ಕಾನನದಿ

ಮುಗಿದು ಹೋಗಲೇ ಅರಿವಾಗದೆ ನಿಂತಲ್ಲಿ ನಿಂತು.

ವೃಂದ.ಸಿ.ಎಂ


Sunday 5 March 2023

ಭಗವಂತನ ಮುಗುಳ್ನಗೆ

ಎಲ್ಲರ ಉದ್ಧರಿಪ ಪುರಂದರ ವಿಠ್ಠಲನೆ ಯಾಕೆ ಎನ್ನನು ಕಡೆಗಣಿಸಿದೆಯೋ? ದಾಸರ ಈ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಗೆ ಉತ್ತರ ಸಿಕ್ಕಿತೆ? ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ. ಆದರೆ ಕೃಷ್ಣ ಭಗವಂತನ ಮುಖದಲ್ಲಿ ಮುಗುಳುನಗೆ ಕಾಣಿಸುತ್ತಿತ್ತು.
ವೃಂದ 

Friday 13 June 2014

ಹಾರೈಕೆ

ಸಾಧನೆಯ ದಾರಿ ಬಲು ದೂರ, ನಿರಂತರ.
ಗೆಲುವಿನೊಂದೊಂದು ಮೈಲುಗಲ್ಲೂ ಹೊಳೆವ ವಜ್ರದ ಹಾರ
'ಮನೆಯೆ ಮೊದಲ ಪಾಠಶಾಲೆ ಜನನಿ ತಾನೇ ಮೊದಲ ಗುರುವು'
ಕಣ್ಕೋರೈಸೆ ಗೆಲುವಿನ ಬೆಳಕು, ಸಿಗಲಿ ಲಕ್ಷ ಹಾರ
ಸಂತಸದ ಸಿರಿಮೊಗ್ಗು ಅರಳಿ ಹೂವಾದಾಗ
ಮನತುಂಬ ನೆನಕೆ ಬಾಯಿ ತುಂಬಾ ಹಾರೈಕೆ.
ವೃಂದ

Sunday 12 January 2014

Recharge your hair, Recharge your Life

This post is an entry for recharge your hair recharge your life contest on indiblogger.in

Chapter one:
"Where were you, the baldy belle?"
"I was here combing my hair"
"Why do you tell such a lie without a strand of hair on the scalp?"
"I know but I was in a trans-combing my long black curly tresses"
"Oh God, I'm sorry. I forgot about you. Come have food and take your tablets."
"Yeah sure. Thank you for caring so much"
"Oh no, take care my dear good night."
"yeah"
Aunt Vyjayanthi closed door behind her. Once upon a time, Shanti was the pleasing figure of long black tresses and beautiful eyes. Now the cancer has slowly drawn her into a sphere of death. Shanti may breath her last anytime. Her head is completely bald and she has hallucinations sometimes like the one above.
Chemo Therapy and radiation treatments have completely made her a dependant. Her husband's aunt Vyjayanthi is taking care because Shanti doesn't have anyone except her in the world.

Chapter two:
" No! god shouldn't be so cruel" sobbed Vyjayanti. Doctors told that Shanti's days are numbered maybe one or two days.Shanti held her aunt's hands and pressed feebly, "Aunty my hair".

The next day Vyjayanti came very late in the afternoon. Along with her a beautiful young lady stepped in. Shanti's eyes widened. "Oh is that Hoogli?"
"Yeah I'm here.I was in US, Kavish told me about you. Vyjayanti aunty told me about your wish.Now close your eyes and let the Jadoo (magic) happen". Hoogli closed Shanti's eyes with one palm and did something with the other palm on Shanti's head. Shanti could feel the movements."See now" Hoogli showed a mirror to Shanti. "Yoh, I have my hair back!" There was a wide smile on Shanti's face, Hoogli had presented a beautiful wig to Shanti.
Shanti was gazing at her reflection in the small mirror, she murmered something which sounded like "Thank you"

Hoogli announced proudly"See I have cut and got the wig done only with half length of my hair". Shanti thanked again and again trying to set her new hair and asked in a teasing voice-"which shampoo?". Hoogli giggled and announced "Sunsilk the old secret".

The gloomy room was filled with joy and the pleasing scent of happiness.

Thursday 9 January 2014

Slaking Song

                                                              Slaking song

                                       She-slender serene suave sonneteer,
                                  seldom-skirmish sulky sod, solemnised soca soiree,
                                    swirled silky smooth symphonic sounds.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trying my hand at writing Haiku

                                   


Saturday 28 December 2013

The darkness and the flower

The lamp burning with orange tint
Has spread the gloriole around her head,
The burning smell of the lamp merged
With the strong smell of incense sticks,
Releasing the tiny trail of white smoke
Resembling the locks of Medusa.

Though the floor was icy cold, there laid her
Fragile body on the bare palm leaf mat,
Covered with the single white sheet
Who knew how much she shivered,
The gruelling silence around urged everyone
To pick up some talks in vain.

Resembling the moon, the pleasing
Form, decayed to the frail frame,
She was there helpless on the ground
Forgetting the venom she spate round after the round.

Who knew her enemies or friends, now,
All they came in a single row,
Were they paying the homage or
Was there a tiny smile on faces camouflaged!

They were all silent the friends and foes,
Death was the tool which brought them close,
The silent whispers how, when, why went on
Her soul was writhing in the cold breeze.

She was anointed with cold oil,
Washed with cold water,
Maybe her cold blooded thoughts made her strong,
The chanting of mysterious hymns in very low voices,
Merged with the silent cries of old women's helpless gang.

Sandalwood paste, small little jasmines, holy oil, the lamp
The incense sticks, the sinful sense of her life damp,
The end came like an eagle while the threaten, ailing
Were brandishing the knife of life
And queing up to have a last glimpse-was there a sigh of relief?

The strong man lit the pyre with trembling hands
The pleasing form, the moon like face brought down to ashes,
Only the cries and sobs
"Wait I'll chant all her posy" They turned their heads.

The threats, hatred, ill-wishes, jealous, the bad and the ugly
The disgusting points, sonnets and soliloquy.
The fire started burning, the flames higher and red
Reflected on their faces,
The reader threw books and papers into the pyre with holy grace!

Their tears dried with meaningful glances they all held their hands
together making the readers secure
Led her out of the cold dark sphere
Into the fertile, serene life of warmth.

Far from the red and orange flames, Grey black smoke
The mixed scents, the dust and night.
There it was, the life's happiness
The small family, a tiny house with green green green pasture around.

This is my second attempt at writing poems in my blog.