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Best Poems Written by Aniruddha Pathak

Below are the all-time best Aniruddha Pathak poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Ode To Mother Ganga

No mere river, thou art nation’s heartbeat,
That you came from heaven may be a myth,
Not that for common good ye fell beneath,
For centuries ye lift people’s spirit.

Let me call thee India’s stand-in sub soul,
O Brahma-vari, heaven’s holy waters,
Thou worshipped art in thy all as a whole,
I bow to Thee, Holiest of all Daughters.

Many a meditating muni’s mind
Mused were by thy serene, calming presence,
And far from the humdrum of mundane grind,
Shelter have found at thy banks for long hence.

King Bhagirath’s penance once brought ye here,
In penitence to wash ancestors’ sins,
With this hoary burden of long ye steer,
We need a new Bhagirath ye to cleanse.

Ye had, we know, condescended to come,
Known as Brahma’s haughtiest of daughters,
Boasting of ‘my cascading flood waters’,
Shiva tamed thee, taught a lesson wholesome.

Sad, mere rituals seem all that remain
Today, wreaking ‘pon thy soul vast damage,
Yet, all this done is in thy holy name,
Ye sure suffer, suffer in silent rage.

A holy thee flows in all us within,
We need not come to thee to wash our sin,
Bathe nor worship, sully thy soul so clean,
But people are what they have always been.

O Mother, under thy sons’ sins ye moan
As ye thyself need a bath of thy own.
A poet was so pained and hurt to call:
O Ganga, why ye care to flow at all! ____________________________________________
Brahma-vari in Sanskrit means (holy) water from Brahma, the supreme creator. Bhagirath (Sanskrit: ?????, Bhagiratha), a legendary king of Ikshvaku dynasty who brought the Sacred River Ganges (personified as the Hindu River Goddess Ganga) to earth from heaven to liberate his ancestors and Sagar’s sons from sins.

Ode |16.05.2021|
Topic: river, mother

Details | Aniruddha Pathak Poem

This Game of Golf

This game of golf as is this life, 
Played all life, perfect still can't be, 
Ever reminding of one’s wife, 
Put on pedestal, upon tee, 
Handicaps, roughs, bogies stay rife, 
And played as if on edge of knife! 

Easy to start, hard to finish, 
And harder ever to master, 
Followed like an unfulfilled wish, 
Always one stroke from disaster, 
As in life, handicaps bridge gap, 
Eagles two, birdies claim one clap. 

What rage be this game every age, 
As many highs as there be lows, 
A game ever on players grows, 
Ageless be this sport in image—
To my liking a bit high brow, 
Pricey clubs, carts, caddies in tow. 

And if ye think you the ball drive, 
Beware of game that drives you naïve, 
This game of greens, good to relax, 
Greener still goes envied player, 
And greatest of a leveller, 
Pro or novice likes it like sex. 

_____________________________________________
   Reflections | 01.10.04 |

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O Pain, Grief, and Suffering

Now that you’re with me, be my guest—
Like me a life-long traveller,
Enjoy night-long welcome and rest,
Tomorrow, let’s leave together.

You may go to your way, I mine
To be a bird rare that may call
And never heard by hearts that pine,
Oh to fall lifeless by next fall.

Unleash your worst of sting, feel free,
I’d bear all, night-long you unfold,
No pain conquers me so easy,
Traveller I’m of a tough mould.

So, O pain, grief, and suffering,
Be my guest and a night long king,
Ready to leave by the morning,
You scarce for long to me can cling.

Let by dawn all aches feel amiss,
By nature joy am I and bliss.
_________________________________________
   Musings | 01.08.15 |

Poet’s Note: Every soul by nature is sat-chit-ananda—joy and bliss, and pain has no permanent place. Soul is a constant traveller.

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Let Us Leave Shadows and Live

From shallows of a crowd, deep down to bone,  
Leaving shadows of life let’s live our own.

Ocean of emptiness roars deep in eyes,
Drowning our personal pain let’s give as grown.

Buds in blossom bloom, fragrance fresh in air,
Far from the reign of thorns in buds’ realm roam.

Mirrors are lined up on every four side,  
Masking face one late eve, let’s play unknown.  

Let there be reign of mirage all around,
Prone to give more, let’s receive less alone. 
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Inspired by a Gujarati poem by Prafulla Vora

Ghazal |06.01.2022|

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And To Autumn Turns Spring

Karmic seeds once sown,
Thought, I’d reap fruits by me grown,
Spring came, soon was gone,

And turned to summer too soon,
And fruitless far my fortune! 

It dawned: I might sow,
But it pays if I well know:
My job’s just to sow,

Man no more can than propose,
Someone sits there to dispose. 
______________________________
Rengay |16.02.2022|

Poet’s note: A twelfth century poetic style in Japan, Rengay started as a collaborative form of poetry, with two stanzas, the first called Hokku, later became Haiku of seventeen syllables in three lines. The next stanza is a couplet of seven syllables each in both the lines.

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At Home With Humdrum of Life

What if much of life's lost to humdrum world? 
To waste get withered when simplest of joys, 
Nature's rare scene when finds none of your voice, 
Innocent, pure pleasures pass by unfurled— 
Beauty of dawns, dusks, daises decked in dew, 
Hills and dales crying for our company, 
A gentle cool breeze gets when none her due, 
And goes unheralded birds' symphony, 
Sea bares when breasts to embrace silver moon, 
Raw passion peaks of a youthful river, 
Clouds play with moon new joys to deliver, 
Seasons when change, sun warms when wintry noon. 
   At home with the ho-hum of humdrum leisure, 
   Man plays blind to nature's many a pleasure.
 _____________________________________________ 
Sonnets | 05.04.2004, revised Sept 2022 | 

Poet’s note: Man seems so much at home with the humdrum of life that he is oblivious of nature’s joys that can excite and inspire him. All he has to do is to be a little more receptive. One gets this impression on seeing the world chasing the ephemeral, fleeting, and man-made joys.

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In Peace With World

In Peace with World 

Its roar in deep silence I heard, 
Heard nature of the vast sea
And it did when rub on me, 
In peace I was with all the world.
_____________________________________________________ 
And for the first time I’d realized what it is like listening to what’s not normally heard.
______________________________________________________
-Quatrain | 03.06.12 |

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Thou Art No Lesser, O Pink Flamingo

Thou art no migrant bird, O Pink Beauty,
But forced art to fly many a long miles
Looking for fresh habitat and water,
In search of new breeding and nesting isles.

And in this search of a shallow wetland,
Ye fly hundreds of miles in patterned file.
Once there, watching ye take off on webbed feet,
Ah what a sight when ye lift off in style!

Thanks to vast wetlands getting polluted,
Despite thine number threatened art thou still,
What with habitats getting degraded,
Should ye lose out, oh what a cruel ill!

I watch when ye fly in flocks of thousands,
Then settle down sighting the right wetland
Or marshland, with friends and family bands,
What gorgeous a sight ye turn lifeless land!

And now a word about thine mating dance
That pairs of males perform to charm females—
Their magical synchronised head movements,
At climax a wing salute does regale.

It's strange, O thou Lesser Pink Flamingo,
Thou art no ‘lesser'— colour nor number,
Nor beauty, nor yet dancing style ye know,
Only size that thou art any humbler!

Soon as monsoon comes to its end, I think
Of thine flocks to turn wetlands a deep pink!
_____________________________________________ ____
Reminiscing | 21.09.2020 |


Entered for "All Yours (May 20) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand

Details | Aniruddha Pathak Poem

Eloquence of Silence

A rainbow once said
To fall falling in cascade,
What use loudmouth made
When silence can say a lot, 
Wordless, when the words cannot.
_____________________________ 
Tanka |25.06.2021| 
 
Poet’s note: A deep thicket of green forest surrounds a valley wherein falls a cascade piercing the tranquillity that reigns otherwise. In waters gathered in the valley before flowing away as a river, a reflection of a rainbow peeps out as if to say something to the noisy waterfall. And this Tanka gets born.

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Autumn Reverie of a Greying Man

how graceful these autumn leaves grow old, marvels the greying child in me. 

ye burst with such beauty in thy last days, I scarce can strive O Autumn. 

autumn reverie tends to tell me: how lovely ‘tis to let things go. 

I wonder if autumn tries to say something at the fall of my life.   

autumn’s blue sky tends to invite me: come it’s time to be one with me.

if season’s tides wane and wax, wonder why life should only get the axe.  

ah autumn once again— to give more gold than all gold mines ever give.

my grieving old age found the autumnal sky blue, sapphire nor azure.  

thy smile O autumn leaf, do lend it to my dying old age in grief.

wonder, what’s nostalgic about that falling leaf— maybe birth and death.

spring summer nor rain hath such grace as autumn’s face— year’s dying days brace. 

ah thy last lovely smile, golden leaves in pile, autumn, do stay a while.

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