Streets of Chandni Chowk

"I know he's there"
"But who?"
WHAM!!

At Chandni Chowk

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And she drove him around

And she drove him around

In her new-found freedom

The City is Busy

The City is Busy

At Jaipur

Lonliness

Lonliness

@Chandni Chowk

The Long Wait for Hope

A Long wait for Hope

Chandni Chowk, New Delhi

I too was young

I too was young

I was a smokin’ gun

Now ages have passed

Putting me into disuse

Now I am just a Showpiece

With a dilapidated view

In old crumblin’ palace

Which once was Royals’ abode.

© Tarun Mitra

Master and Commander

Master and Commander

Yak dance at North East Festival at Indira Gandhi National Center for Arts.

Sometimes....

Kabhi kabhi mere dil main khayal aata hain
Ki zindagi teri zulfon ki narm chhaon main guzarne pati
to shadab ho bhi sakti thi.

Yeh ranj-o-gham ki siyahi jo dil pe chhayi hain
Teri nazar ki shuaon main kho bhi sakti thi.

Magar yeh ho na saka aur ab ye aalam hain
Ki tu nahin, tera gham teri justjoo bhi nahin.

Guzar rahi hain kuchh iss tarah zindagi jaise,
isse kisi ke sahare ki aarzoo bhi nahin.

Na koi raah, na manzil, na roshni ka suraag
Bhatak rahin hai andheron main zindagi meri.

Inhi andheron main reh jaoonga kabhi kho kar
Main janta hoon meri hum-nafas, magar yoonhi
Kabhi kabhi mere dil main khayal aata hai.

(Written by Sahir Ludhianvi)

Aye Aye Sir

"You Ready"
"Aye Aye Sir!"

Babaji ka....

Snake of the snakecharmer at City Palace, Jaipur

The Flight of Birds

They too shine

Just like the stars

Dotting night sky

They too fly

When they are free

From their bondages

In a vast expanse

Above the solid base

All during day and night

They fly.

As if free

Without any boundary

Or any bondage

Borders or scale

With only sense of living

Feeding and procreating

They fly, throughout the days

Over those vast expanse

Above that solid base

They too get scared

And often scarred

They’re hunted

And devoured

In spite of all

They are free

Like the stars that shine

But during the daylight

No sense of boundaries or borders

Spreading their wings

Crashing on one another

They are free as they should be

© Tarun Mitra

India and Bharat

India and Bharat

On way to Garh Mukteshwar

The Cobbler at Chandni Chowk

If it was his destiny.
Then doing it properly is all that mattered.

In Memoriam

In Memoriam

In the dim light of the lonely lamp

Shining amongst the millions lights

Lighting up the night

The lamp stood still, and dimming

Only one in that home

One soul had left

“Went to heaven” some say

But the void he left

Will be felt everyday

And on the night

When world was merry

And Skies brightened up

That solitary lamp

With its dimming rays

Recounted the days went by

‘Life Hangs by thread’ they say

But was this thread so weak

Snatched at a single pull

Scattering other threads away

As the lamp dims

So did his life

All of sudden it pulled

Where it went one cannot say

Dream or reality

Illusion or delusion

Or just some hallucination

As the time went by

The pain of loneliness was felt

And in memoriam in write

In memories of time we spent

In memories of your life

In memory of my genesis

In my untold love for you

Now I feel the solitude

Pulls and pushes of life

Filling your shoes I feel

How was it like

But the lamp finds it destiny

In an hour or two

This too shall pass, as saying goes

Memories can be bitter too.

© Tarun Mitra

The Old Man

So what! I am standing here

Doing nothing,

Smoking my heart’s content

Why do you bother, you kid

With strange thing in your hand

Don’t you have any work to do?

© Tarun Mitra

The Sleeping Man

The sleep came silently

In the middle of the day

And without the care of this world

He fell on the pathway.

It was near a tourist place

Where the world converges

But he lied there inanimate

Even as world crossed his way

With a sandal on his feet

Other floating in the drain

Flies on his mouth and feet

There he lay, almost dead

Beside him stands the taxi

Claiming to be ‘City Service’

The very city he came to work

From a village far away

This the world we live in

Loving emptiness of monuments

Amusing ourselves with the dead

Even if world is dying

We simply don’t care

Just move away, carefully.

© Tarun Mitra

The Sunset

“One day,' you said, 'I watched the sunset forty-three times!'


And a little later you added:

'You know, when one is that sad, one can get to love the

 sunset.'


'Were you that sad, then, on the day of the forty-three 

sunset?'

But the prince made no answer.” 

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Hard Work is Poetic

Hard work is poetic

In a sense

That

When a man sips

His first cup of tea

We click him

With our cliché

Terming him, with emotions

Coloring him, with our thoughts

And a deep sense of romanticism

Presenting it

As fruit of our labour.

But Hey!

Wait a minute

Did we forgot

Or failed to remember

That his first cup

Came after some hiccups.

Unlike us

Who tasted tea

Before we clicked

He’d clicked himself out

Before earning his tea.

© Tarun Mitra

German Cafe @ Bhagsunath Falls

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Himalayas