My Krishna is lost!

It is the month of Marghazhi
Is it not Andal’s duty
To caress and cajole her Krishna?

The puranas say it
The idhikasas say it
The verses say it
The proses say it

I believe in thee! O Krishna!
Draupadi’s honor
You protected!
Gurushethra war
You dictated!
Truth and peace
You guarded!
India’s pride
You safeguarded!

I needed you my Krishna
To be embraced
In your blessings

I searched for thee! O Krishna!
I searched every nook and corner
In every direction
In every place
But I couldn’t find Him.

I called out with different names
Wishing to embrace my Krishna
But He heard me not!

Where did He go?
What did He do?

You rushed to
Draupadi’s cries . . .
To protect her honor
You conferred her with clothes!

But where have you vanished now
O Krishna!

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I searched for thee!
I called out to thee!
Temples after temples
I rummaged for thee!
Alas!

I couldn’t find my Krishna
Did any of you find my Krishna?

My Krishna is lost!
My Krishna is lost!
Was He lost dancing around
With the Gopikas?
Or while prancing around
With Andal and Meera?
Was He immersed in
His flute’s caresses?
Or merely snoozing
In butter’s harnesses?

On that night of December 16th
The moment the clock struck 8
My Krishna was lost . . .
Lost forever!

He guarded not Nirbhaya’s honor
By draping her in a saree!
He fought not a Kurushetra war
Against those terrible demons!

Maybe . . .
Just maybe
I reckon my Krishna was
Stuck up in a weekend party
Dancing in a disco

If you see Him somewhere
Please do enlighten me!

Till then all I can do
Is just lie in wait

Is writing poems
A mere aberration?
Is writing poems
A useless occupation?
Is writing poems
A brainless distraction
To scratch my literary itch?

Will my Krishna reappear
Only when I discard my pen
And wield my weapon?

If so . . . from here on
I will hold not my pen!
I will brandish only weapons!

This is a new Andal’s new age thirupaavai!

Sweat . . . Blood . . . Tears

To questions hitherto posed,
I have no answers!
To answers henceforth retorted,
I have no questions!

I soar to pinnacles yonder
Like a man of my dreams!
I come alive akin a condor
Beheld In my enemies eyes!

I manifest the skies beyond
Cradling in my wishers grace!
I stand true to the world
Embellished with a grimy face!

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I smile enmeshed with satisfaction
Bejeweled with a crown of thorns!
Am fulfilled with mirth adorned,
Lo! An infinite Kurushetra scorns!

Am born again every day
Loved absolute in my love’s laps!
Am nailed alive to the cross
Wedged In gory beasts’ traps!

Smiles embroider every grain of my visage!
A heavenly satisfaction on my grave!
I walk alone a path of bloody thorns,
Emerge triumphant in a journey of the brave!

My poems arise a new dawn within
Silence being my life’s new essence!
Sweat and tears are my new coronet!
Forever my crown through my senescence!