महत्व की परिभाषा सूर्य .

क्या पारिभाषित करती है?

कल्पना सूर्य की , सूरज को.

सूरज जब जन्मा तो 

भूगर्भा मुस्काती थी 

अंकुरित बीज को सहेजे 

नाजुक दो पत्ते और एक शिखा 

पलकों के ऊपर मांगटीके सा 

ऐश्वर्यमान था सूर्य.

सूरज की  बाल्यावस्था में 

खेतों की मेड़ो पे , दो रह चलते 

सांप जैसे पगडंडियों पे

उंगलिया थामे दौड़ा था सूर्य.

कोडक की नेगेटिव फिल्मो पर 

ये शालीनता कितनो ने समेटी है.

पितरो के संस्कार का पहला उर्धद्वार था सूर्य.

सूर्य को पसंद नहीं की

कोई बादल दो टूक 

पसर जाये एक ज़िद्द पे 

सूर्य को तो चढ़ने है कितने पर्वत पहाड़

पार जाने है कितने नदी नाले जंगल-विराज 

और सामने ये एक बित्ते का मेघ खंड 

की काटना 

वक़्त नहीं की चढ़ जाये और मसल दे 

दो नन्हें मुठियों में.

उबाज में आके सूर्य को 

रास्ता बदलना 

आगे बढ़ना आता है.

सूरज की लड़कपन में 

शरारती इतना की परेशान हो जाती है , अक्षिता माँ.

कभी बगीचे में कभी छत पे  तो

कभी चिंया मुंडेर पर आता था सूर्य.

मिलने सूर्य को.

कभी गुलेल पे तना कंचे जितना सटीक था सूर्य

नीम की निम्बोली और कच्चे आम के टिकोले 

इतना स्वाद इतना श्वेताभ 

की टूटे दांत और निश्छल हसी के पीछे दमकता था सूर्य.

कभी क्रिकेट की बॉल

कभी कब्बडी का अंपायर 

और फुटबॉल बन 

कोंसो दूर दौड़ना सिखाता था सूर्य.

जब था यौवन 

सूर्य था बिल्कुल ओजस्व से परिपूर्ण 

तेजस्वी उसकी किरणे इतनी की

 पड़ किसी मृग पे 

तो कस्तूरी और विस्तृत हो जाये 

हिरन को दासता से दामन छुड़ाना सीखता है सूर्य.

सूर्य बचपन भी था, सूर्य यौवन भी  

सूर्य अधेड़ भी होगा और बूढ़ा भी.

एक दिन सूर्य डूबेगा 

और कमज़ोर फेफड़ो के xray पर आज धुंधलाता है सूर्य.

जन्म पूरब 

यौवन उर्धव हुआ 

एक विप्लव की आशा थी

पश्चिम कुछ शांत-सा हैं.

 -कृष्णा राय 

मार्च २०, २०१६ 

तुम्हारी हथेलियाँ ( old poem)

दिन बीतें अब सांझ
और आखिरी पहर 
की दो घडी रात
और तुम अपने हथेलियों से थपथपाती
तो हरसिंगार के फूलों पे
ढलने लगती नींद.

जब तुम  अपने हथेलियों से सहलाती तो
शिशिर का चन्द्रमा भी
अमावास की काली  चादर तान
हो जाता ओझल.

तुम जब अपने हथेलियों से जगाती
तो गा रही होतीं गौरैयाँ
तुलसी के मुंडेर पर
और चारों दिशाओं में
छाने लगती पीली धुप.

इस भरी रात में
हमेशा साथ होती है , तुम्हारी हथेलियाँ
गुजरते खवाबों के सन्नाटों में
खनकती तुम्हारी हथेली
और कलायिओं पर सजती चूडिया.

तुम जब हथेलियों से बुलाती
तो सिमट आता सारा आसमान
तुम्हारी देहरी के बाहर.

तुम्हारी हथेलियों का स्पर्श
जो चेहरे और होंठो को
 छू जाती
भर जाती मेरी दामन
जगा जाती मुझमे
वर्षा  की पहली बूँद से महकती
धरा की सौंधी महक.

और,
मेरे समक्ष  जब तुम
फैलाती जो अपनी
नन्ही हथेलियाँ
तो फिर से जी उठता
जीवन.

कृष्णा राय

(sometime in 2000)

-Krishna Rai 
Copyright@2017

Where the F**k the kids will play.

Where the fuck the kids will play.

I resurrect the buildings.

I resurrect the lives of millions if none of the less Gazillions.

I built the sea,  a powerhouse.
A facade to different worlds.

I sometimes feel like a god of my own.

through the passage of concrete buildings,  tall enough 

They talk about the lives of different worshipers.

I build house, not home

of the souls of people looking for vested reasons.

I offer them a pool with fresh water

I called it a sea of their strong beliefs.

Those beliefs to be silently merged 

with me and my own solutions.

I am a builder.
I built this earth and not only this but 

I am aiming high to the galaxies, seen through the  Hubble.

Oh! but hey !!
my offerings come with some price.

price for you to fight for the life.

you see the goodness of fortune and
raising the bar high.

You see a house that secures future if any
but ill-fated treaties I make with you has its own cause.

I the first hand built it to secure me.

I am here to protect my virtue, not just me

but many of them i hired on pennies are

tightly coupled with my location on wifi.

I made many of the lives

selling my fear, scared thoughts.

for I could sleep in peace.

Many serving  my dreams to be sure

I could play nicely on my valiant turf.

with the goals set on the T coupe nicely;
I double the previous score.

I build, I win.

But when I go back with my waving hands 

that my father discovered on a vibrant screen of sonography.

I thought a sudden, where the fuck my foot would roll

standing amid the maze of white and blue
where the hell I would run.

I heard the noise with many worshipers of my tyranny

rhyming the same nightmarish song.

I made the road. The buildings.

The concrete and the galaxies of thousand dreams 

I highly score.

I play on the piles of mercies on dollar notes.

But have I ever imagined

if something I forgot

to build a rubber turf with a seesaw.

A sea once resounding, I saw.

-Krishna Rai 
Copyright@2015

Your deep face

your deep face

when the night breaks out

for the quiver truth.

for you the sprouting new age

that hurts the shadow sitting in the corner.

watching you,  Shiver.

your saddened voice

to hear if the 

dying day still had a hope

a tiny whisper to spread

a formal good to see you go.

your uneasy heart

burns the true emotions

and erupts the volcano of 

good old memories.

days that had 

two souls with differed priorities

but a cup to share.

your deep face

good bye may miss you

the soul in peace

you keep the lights alive

on the same chair

to chase the same dream. 

do you dream?

through this winter

next summer, the lasting rain

the nights might be mellow;

with the sounds of ghostly quacks

the day might  be shallow;

with the noises, you breathe in.

the shadow still there 

in the corner, 

wrapped under the  vapor 

you breathe out.

-Krishna Rai
-Krishna Rai 
Copyright@2015

Solace

How we could dream of ?
warm water. Tipping.
under the lagging feet
the land is hot. creeping.

The pair of legs
woman and man
striding, each with eyes of vengeance
a thirst. un-quenched.

with the eyes open
red gray horizon, beige of an ocean.
the clapping hands for setting sun.

interfering ship
coming between me and the virtue
when I close my eyes and remember.

types of tell.
a story, an extravaganza.
a porn.

there is a death
ahead, my life.
but faith! no mercy.

-Krishna Rai 
Copyright@2015

Borther , You.

Remember, the distant tone

you encroached  the radio

 when you went inside

sticking your ear to the tiny speaker

how wishful you were, 

thought you would listen to the future.

flipping through the combination of wavelengths

diving across the disturbance

how beautifully you'd imagined

The interference of AM with FM.

I was only the ignorant 

who couldn't decipher

thought must be the dogs fighting dogs.

Remember ,

Twisting and twirling the analog antenna to the right direction

you were able to sniff the signal

I thought you had the guiding winds

running up on the hills.

You only had imagined 

that one day we would look up

instead of sniffing wide.

Many moments  those strike to my memoirs

While I trot around the world

I only would consider the world was flat otherwise

If it wouldn't be you 

made me see the shape with few yard sticks.

Remember, 

how you brought science near to me

while fixing the CRT of our old tv.

physics got so dear with tindle's effect

while we got induced by our mutual sleep.

when the others cursed the heat 

and the shortage of electricity

you made me learn how the weather is 

a dependent wife of geophysics

a varied slave to nature's rule.

how blissful its to be on the equator

having the necessity of winter hot and rain

the eight of complete chain.

the lucid forests of amazon,

the humid sucklers of Indonesian Wayland

the making of the Himalayan range, the strolling ganges.

The belt of Sahyadri looked very precedented

just as you made me drink 

the sultry water of Konkan coast-away.

We together laughed on several social cliches

 when you put together the fact and fallacy 

in the same plate, a delicious maneuver.

Remember, how easy was it for you 

to make perfect brothers 

out of a kid and a stray.

the goodness of eastern wind

when we only could afford the cheap electric cooler

the cruel humid western wind that would never cared for an AC.

for you how easy was it to compare heat with heat.

comparison and competition is only within

the dryness and the stickiness are the substantials.

and then you would astonishingly announce

for the bagful of rains due in three days.

Remember,

The eyes you had when you were

 mussile very young and vibrant

you hardly had very few of stubble cropping over your cheek.

you were born a child

the shadow of yours is still the same.

Remember

you went violent once and almost made me deaf

I still remember the slap, 

my numbed head still haven't got a distant claim.

forgive me for the nuisance

The guilt is still rotting me.

for me to the others 

love and despair

for me the meaning of 

discerned and dilemma

was a discovery through the humbled soul, brother you.

-Krishna Rai 
Copyright@2014

Again, I want to sing

I want to sing a poetry

again…

after the years of menopause

a woman in me wants to jive a poetry.

but what song and the tune 

on what lyrics and the background?

the past spent and the present thrived.

The kid I was

had a treasure to unsheathe.

a man I am today

have plenty to stitch.

But yet again, 

I want to sing a poetry for me.

aren't those I reprised many  to my love

dedicated many to my creators

and improvised to the seeker within.

There is none.

long into the vacant passage 

I can't find  muke littered a  piece 

which i can pick up and read

read again and sing.

I want to sing.

should I sing a different tune?

but I have lost the ears of my childhood.

I only see the cloud of dust 

given so much air to the fire 

now my eyes couldn't hear a thunder.

I want to hear.

hear and sing.

I want to sing.

I want to sing 

my birth, which was silent and sows.

A train that pulled the trigger and a kid rose.

The river Kamala quietly flows.

-Krishna Rai 
Copyright@2010