The Cold floor from Yesteryears

The river of sadness overflows,
Plains, fields and trees submerged,
In float the dry reed, the carcass,
The straw hut,
Days and months we built then rested,
Laughed and cried some,
The light from the lamp lit your face so often,
Joy then had another name,
We flirted with the notion of love,
Bitter-sweet, the fruit we found,
All of this gushes from the river,
Eyes stare, stoned,
We could swim across together,
But I don’t know how to swim,
Dry in that little space,
Even my words abandon me,
At last the celebration,
The price has been paid in tears of blood,
The cold floor from yesteryears,
A feeble joke,
Once again the river of sadness overflows,
I remain untouched,
The river now dwells in me...

Ear-tingling

Propped on his elbow,
The clean cut face,
Dangerously treads the secret maze,
Lost and yearning to be found,
Fidgety, the dark hands,
Near, too close, quiver at first,
Glance at and away,
Red wine, the tang of swollen lips,
The scent travels slow, bodies romance,
Strange patterns pulsate,
Tense with nuances,
Endless possibilities surround the mind,
Passion unlocks the door,
And hops on the bed in one giant stride,
The wait is long, ear-tingling,
Imprisoned by muscled strength,
Teeth dig into the succulent meat,
Cries go unheard,
Divine the salt of sweat,
Feverish, the eyes burn,
The heat doesn’t settle still,
It asks for more,
Reservoirs have known to be emptied,
Yet, the flames reach the Moon.

Faith, a Liar

Faith is such a fragile word,
I don’t know what to make of it,
We break some,
Some is already in pieces,
What remains is a question mark...
Perhaps, we should be friends with doubt,
The colour palette would then by grey,
The boundary line would be a blur,
No fence to jump, no one to shun,
Lies wouldn’t brand a liar,
Lust won’t be mistaken for love,
Avarice won’t roam in a mask,
Twisted would be accepted as good.
The need to be good is such a waste,
In our nakedness is our truth,
It can’t be shared,
It can’t be borrowed,
Yet, life is a projection,
Of whom I should be,
The real me can never be seen in respectable places,
They are afraid to see themselves in me.

Immoral Am I?

Immoral are my days,
Nights pitch dark,
Houses pit stops,
The rent righteously high,
Ugly patches adorn the wall,
The patch is I,
They sniff around wanting to know my shame,
There is much to tell,
But words simply fail,
A collection of stones rest,
In what I dare call my own,
A memory for a suitcase lugged along,
On the streets if I were to beg,
I would ask for a cloth to cover my name,
I don’t know any morals,
They weren’t of much use,
You can’t touch me,
The mind becomes immune,
The hurt isn’t inflicted,
It breeds in the pond like mosquitoes,
The more they multiply the murkier it gets,
Run away I wont,
Dare you throw me out,
I will stand here and shout,
If my truth is ugly,
Then I shall cast you out,
My road is my own choosing,
Go stand at another gate and judge,
Someday, I’ll meet you in that place,
Where our roles are reversed...

Won't be Handcuffed

Fatigue plagues the soul,
Sleepless the night sky,
The faith to walk the Moon beam on water,
Leaps and then as abruptly disappears in the eye,
Courage fails often,
Shivers, goose bumps rise
The red cloud of anger momentarily blinds,
The lava turns into verses,
Cutting and pointed,
Cools down and becomes resigned.
What is the need to duck behind melodrama?
When the warmth from the heart liberates even the pitiless,
Why hide your truth from the eyebrow raised in question?
It surely has its own fears to conceal,
Why feel bad about the things that you feel good about?
The circus isn’t here to tell you how to live,
Why worry about getting drenched in the rain?
When the hand you run with will soon be lost again,
Freedom isn’t all fearless,
It’s the conviction that I won’t be handcuffed,
By a world I would rather not know.

Small Joys

Can joy be big or small, I need to know?
The dark clouds play hide and seek with the blue ones,
Sketch shapes in the sky,
Make way for the Moon,
Ripples in the water flow gingerly,
The invites have been sent,
Wind sits by the bench,
Holding my gaze,
A little longer than necessary,
Words fall like stone in the water,
Dead weight,
The quiet night sinks in,
Nothingness, I try to carry back home,
Slipping through my fingers,
It has a nice feel,
Stay a while,
The man on the bench says to me...

Betrayed by You

Two of us reside in me,
In the body, the mind, the entity,
Through the long passage,
Of the five senses,
Struts wisdom is the guise of evil,
Every wrong hence experienced,
Is the seekers unknown truth.
Hide your deepest, darkest desires,
With the cling-film of the ordinary,
Mock the world with petty lies,
And laugh with them at your own defeat,
No one is fooled,
The soul won’t rescue an unfeeling mind,
You have been betrayed...by you.

Why Now?

They break you, unknowingly,
And tie into a hundred knots,
The more you try to ease out,
The grip tightens to hold you still,
Cutting deep into old scars,
That never truly healed.
Now, you and I are in name alone,
You lost me somewhere down that road,
Why come looking now,
When the dust has settled,
When the white tears have dried,
And peace has been traded,
Why am I a misfit now?
Why must my intentions be questioned,
Before being spit out,
Empty is all I have,
There’s no further I can go,
Turn and leave,
I won’t be walking anymore.

A Tree...I long to be.

Speak to me, please,
I long to hear,
What the wild wind whispers in your ears,
Swaying close,
You look so happy,
That I wish to be like you,
Free...
Can I not be a part of your circle?
Be close to the sky,
Touch deep purple,
As the twine mate to summon twilight,
Your impassive demeanour comes to life,
I find myself drawn to you,
Your quiet strength,
It shines, it rains you never complain,
Stark against the backdrop of absentee leaves,
You stand alone for eternity,
Your truth never changes,
Free...
The freedom of being born a Tree.

Snap

I don’t understand the order of heaven,
The storm in our DNA,
The winds of sweet-madness,
The strange working of this bodily device,
Stranger still the chaotic mind,
That walks through a rainbow,
Takes it apart, inch by inch, shade by shade,
Yet, the colours don’t seem to fade,
Vivid, they blot the landscape,
Rising to the highest peak,
Snap and they scatter again...

Luxury of a Father

Hello father,
‘I am well,
Healthy as a horse,
Busy as a mule,
Money is fine,
I like my wine,
Even love visits once in a while’
And the awkward pause,
The father-son conversation has run out.
A game of golf,
The early morning walk,
The newspaper he reads with his glasses on,
I know the everyday routine,
There isn’t much that we can talk,
And I did send a father’s day card,
Hastily scribbled, ‘You are the best dad’
I am sure it made him smile,
I could do much more if I were there,
But we live in different cities, countries, time zones,
I am a good son,
Sunday’s I call to say hello,
To hear the concern in his voice,
To become tongue tied, childlike,
When he shouts at me, offers advice,
A sermon on life,
I lap it all up,
I have friends, who don’t have the luxury of one,
A father to call...

He Burns

He burns, I see,
At war,
The pale smoke doesn’t rise,
It settles in,
The circle isn’t perfect,
But then who is,
Words don’t sound right,
The emotion does,
Confusion sits pretty,
In those knowing eyes,
The night won’t answer questions unasked,
In a wink the war is lost,
He burns some more.

Stones Don't Cry

They say stones don’t cry,
Flowers in the spring,
May make them smile,
Forget who they are just for a while,
But the rain brings with it the promise of slime,
The familiar feeling of comfort,
The old routine,
The flower blooms, wilts and dies,
The obituary of their love,
Not worth a dime,
Who has ever heard,
A stone weep?
Weep for a flower,
Who loves him deep.

Unfeeling

I find nothing when I go looking,
The joke is lost on me,
For once, the unfeeling looks so good,
Crass and cold,
This time I watch the snow trapped indoors
Wrapped in wool,
Glee isn’t as attractive as she used to be,
Grief,the lonely widow I lust for...

Won’t you be coming today?

I hear your footsteps from far away,
You walk in my mind,
Running errands on the way,
I smile to myself,
There he is late again,
Still, no sign of you...
I have been waiting silly for so long,
Have fixed my hair every few minutes,
The freshly ironed cotton is creased,
Worried I bite the dead skin around my lips,
The promised hour has come and passed,
The light has dimmed,
The fire is out,
Won’t you be coming today?

With the Morning Chai

Have you read the newspaper lately?
Any news worth digesting, I ask,
A minor raped, hanged by a tree in a courtyard,
A small print on page seven in the paper,
Doesn’t really count as news,
No outrage is forthcoming,
There is corruption, Ramdev, oil and cricket ,
Making front news,
A deaf Indian lives in big cities,
And a blind India in small towns,
Where policemen violate a tiny form,
And the audacity is worth applause,
The body is hung in a place they call a police station,
And the suspension orders are doing the rounds,
Casual, flippant, the article reports mere facts,
No emotion attached for the reader to sit up and act,
Last I heard the men and machinery are here to protect,
A watchmen’s daughter,
Not a rich man’s wealth,
We the educated are a breed handicapped,
Earn a living, spend in multiplex,
Invest in a house, a little charity to save tax,
The ferocity of emotion for a crime and the victim,
Is lost on the evolved reader,
The morning chai is getting cold,
What can a man do for a girl in Lakhimpur,
A place he’s never heard off.

Why

The wizened, old trees can only watch,
The nubile night seduce the wayward sky,
The dark road invites the not too lucid minds,
To catch the madness that lingers in the air,
Eyes don’t see and the ears only hear,
The gurgling laughter resonating deep,
Numb fingers entwined,
Head cradled in timelessness,
Warped yet strangely serene,
The ‘why’ that goes looking for answers,
Is too scared to peep underneath,
The truth is never ugly,
Just different for you and me...

Sin in Higher Sentiments

In sin and in saintliness,
Man is equally blessed,
Much loved,
His cries can be heard,
All the way up,
The big mind doesn’t judge.
For a life to become a prayer,
Wrong choices have to be made,
The right ones never lead you anywhere,
If the discontent stems from within,
Then the journey to the inside,
Can only begin,
When a man is willing to embrace,
The ugliness and stare it in the face,
If good was right and bad was wrong,
Wouldn’t God have used his discretion,
To create a better Man?
Passion and higher sentiments are not found in a book,
But to be learnt falling on the ground,
One, two as many times,
Till the mind unlearns to divide,
And forsake his misguided faith,
In this transient hide...

For the first time

Fall into the lap of sleep,
And gently slip into mine,
Forever, if you so wish,
I’ll sing you a lullaby,
Drop feather kisses on your curly hair,
And stroke honey cheeks,
So soft, so fair,
The vulnerable mouth droops in slumber,
Smile of heaven upon your lips,
Tiny limbs steal my peace,
Night after night as I sit by the bedside,
You grow a little stronger,
Oddly, I feel so weak,
Weak in your love...
In my womb you felt strange,
I was so scared,
And you screamed your way,
Out into this world,
My flesh and blood,
I know, now, how it feels to hold,
A child for the very first time.

From your door

The tears are drying fast,
A melancholy has set in,
She lurks apologetically in places,
She can’t be seen or heard.
We live in a mute world,
Selectively blind,
So careful of their own,
The beautiful inside is rotting,
Unaware,
Not ugly just cowardice, I think,
To fill your pockets with stone,
And hurl them without caring,
Whom they might hit,
Forgiveness is easy,
If you can foresee the future,
Hurt must always find her way home,
The journey must end,
From the door it had begun.

Silent...

The round tear drop,
Had travelled long,
Tired at last,
It took refuge,
The curtain of sleep fell silently,
Like the pied piper leading to the cliff,
The throbbing pain disappeared,
But just about,
For sleep could not hold,
The silent tears...

Outside the Walls

Of little consequence are plans,
Chalked our for a future that doesn’t exist,
The meaning can never be found outside the walls,
In Ether the essence,
The lines on the palm can’t be read,
Distrust them,
The neat little boxes,
In which we pack our lives,
Unravel, unfold seldom make sense,
Choose order over chaos and there is a price,
We tie our hands and beg for release,
Suffer in comfort and lust for peace,
Walled,
The spirit unbound is born of zilch.

A Very Lonely Place Awaits

A few years from now,
I’ll be somebody, they say,
A mansion for a house,
A monster for a car,
Money to do as I please with,
Travel to places never heard of,
I wonder whom will I share all of it with?
Papa never much believed in luxury,
The quartz I bought him from my first salary,
Was the most precious thing he ever owned,
Mamma can be bribed with a new sari,
But it’s her health I worry about,
Fame can’t buy my demi dog,
Unlimited life that we could spend,
Chasing butterflies, playing in our lawn,
They’ll be long gone, I fear,
What use are your plans for me,
When there won’t be anyone left,
To lift me from the ground and hug me tight,
To whisper softly in my ears,
Proud of you, our darling girl,
Someday seems a lonely place,
Without those who keep me sane...a very lonely place indeed.

Angry One

In anger a few nasty words fell out,
Like shards of glass they pricked the feet,
Of all those passing by,
From some they drew blood,
From some an indifferent shrug,
A few swore out loud,
A gentle soul felt deeply hurt,
Of all of them,
My loss is acute,
I lost my peace to a furious mind,
Ah,sheer madness to have gambled away,
A tranquil existence for an angry one.

Rain - Makes my Soul Sing

We danced on the balcony today,
My dog and the wire,
On which we hang our clothes,
Was all the company I had,
The steps were light, childlike,
Liberated,
Unmindful, the spirit moved.
The rain wouldn’t stop,
Falling in a straight line,
Illuminated under the street lamp,
Made poignant by the songs on the radio,
That spoke of love,
A lightning struck sky,
Called out to the wind,
Moodily she spat at him,
Fancy the rain, do you?
In harmony, the sky replied,
Yes, but the rain can’t swirl,
Be lithe on her feet and jive like you,
Rain makes my soul sing,
The season of romance,
That makes me want to worship you,
Darling, let her weave the magic of love,
Softly, deeply into our hearts.

I am Beautiful...

My skin isn’t fair,
Neither my limbs soft nor delicate,
My hair doesn’t fall like a curtain along the eye,
My features non-descript,
My lips too thin,
My body isn’t what it used to be,
Two children have come out of it,
My name wouldn’t ring a bell,
Or feature in a fashion magazine,
My days are spent juggling home and work,
Nights spent worrying about a hundred mundane things,
Most days I like to be told,
I am managing just fine,
But the glasses of expectation are worn so high,
The radiance of inner beauty,
Is a mere blob on the virtual sky.
A not so perfect complexion and the ravages of time,
May shake me up a little,
Make me long for approval,
Don fashionable clothes,
To shake off the flab
Style my hair differently,
To appear as young as I can,
Yet, underneath I still look the same,
Lovely as any woman can be,
The steel of my determination,
The seed of my womb,
The sweet surrender of my being,
Makes the world go around,
My age doesn’t matter,
My looks don’t count,
I am beautiful is all I know,
And if I don’t believe in me,
Why would you.