Sunday, August 30, 2009

Family clinic

No, not the one to the left.
To the right, inside the gully
Opposite to the tailor shop.
Can they convert it to a boy?
No, that's not possible.

Friday, August 28, 2009


A prism divides purity into many shades.
But darkness is still intact in one piece
Though punctured by
a little light here and there.

You are that

Like the ugly graffiti on the walls of a subway
you are secondary to the traffic above.
No one can lift you out of this wretchedness.
Sometimes, you hear of accidents and feel lucky
Other than that, your life is pedestrian.
Time is a one way traffic and you are always
on the wrong side and are gripped by fear.
You don't die at one go, instead you hope.
And circumstances feed on you like maggots.
Delusions that escape your mind form a reality
A construct of your whims and fancies.
With its different norms and charms.

Parting shot

She said, "Lunch in the oven" and left.
He found spicy noodles.
She never came back.
Earthworms, I guess.


There were four odd does
that visited the fields.
We whistled and they jumped
Out of fright, but it was fun.
It has been years thence
By now they must have grown
Probably died and dried too.
Hyenas were too many
in the adjoining woods.
Were the does hunted by them?
They ran faster for a whistle.
They must have escaped surely.
Did they die of old age then?
Now I hear, hyenas too disappeared.
Like the Gods playing hunting and hunted
and one day, bored and disappeared.
A dry wind now cracks open the fields
displacing people from their land
and giving it way to the surviving species:
Memories, alongside, Cockroaches and Lizards.

A thousand souls

I am scared of giving away
too many words to this world.
From behind half-open doors
I answer voices crying hoarse.
In the light that trickles in
I have my struggles and wins.
Close to myself I have another self
pushing me to be out in the open.
But I engage it to watch the murals
on the inner walls of my solitude.
There are violent protests at times
like the tantrums of a child
subduing into the night of calm.
Marking the end of the day
I stand near the window and gaze
while the doors in the distant buildings
are shut like tired eyes
and a thousand souls rest today
keeping their voices away.

Monday, August 24, 2009

You and I

I was humming a song
expecting you to sing along
You just stared "What's wrong?"
and left not before long.

I was recounting a story
Agreed it was a bit gory
You were nodding and dozing
Climax was your snoring.

I was struggling with a line
You wanted me to explain
I started to and we broke
The next morning I awoke

I was happy, I sang out loud
You were unknown of the crowd
Next to me you sat with a frown
and asked when I would get down.

Now we have grown cold
or just carefully old
And slipped out of that world.
Stories, we no longer share.

Thursday, August 13, 2009


I gaze at the stars
and at the darkness between.
I spot the faint red mars
and the green-yellow-green.
In between the twinkles
truth flashes like a spark
Faint as early wrinkles
but as the passing age stark.
And I feel a jitter of loneliness
under the dome of distant worlds.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

In the sands of time

As children
we used to play on a heap of sand
making patterns with polished stone chips.
They were buses, cars and heavy vehicles.
The finish lines and gas stations
were scaffolds made of twigs.

Often, petty fights arose
about the new roads we could take.
We argued and had the heap divided.
Each new member in the other team
upped our jealousy and we
destroyed their worlds
in one quick pouring of sand.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Under the village sky

Stars in the village sky
Faint among the bright
Bright among the faint
Extend far into the fields.
Lying on our backs
we counted them and narrated stories
till sleep silenced each of us.
There was a story about wolves
someone happened to mention.
I slipped into sleep thinking
about the missing child.
The night was dense and dewy.
The trees swayed wildly
as if to breakaway from the roots
and walk towards us.
Like a thousand tongues their leaves
reflected off the syrupy moonlight.
I turned this side and that
groping for a hand to hold.