Tonight, an inky darkness surrounds me
with a spell of anguish
from years of those unread letters.
The mite of time has left
only shreds of bundled joys
in the corner of an overfilled carton.
I extract those letters now, for our meeting.
Like an atlas of our childhood
I would like those letters
to take us places without any blur.
When we finally meet
we can start off, from where we left
at that bus stop and seamlessly tie
all these years into a knot of forgetfulness.
In our new found paper time machine
an ancient conversation could be dug up
and we could have a hearty laugh
at the tiresomeness of each other's lives.
I am not here to make a difference.
Instead, I would sum it up for you
So that it is easy to tread
Knowing what I went through.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
The Odd Visitor
People can't stand her sight.
With a groovy face and a flappy skin
propped up by a thin frame-like curtain of life
she walks the streets at odd times.
Dusty myths gather around her existence.
Journeys start over
when someone spots her in sight.
They rush inside, to avoid
all ill luck in their path.
No chances are taken.
Like an innocent child from bad influences
she is kept away, from anything living.
Her identities dissolve, one by one
like her bones
and she grows backwards, into nothing.
With a groovy face and a flappy skin
propped up by a thin frame-like curtain of life
she walks the streets at odd times.
Dusty myths gather around her existence.
Journeys start over
when someone spots her in sight.
They rush inside, to avoid
all ill luck in their path.
No chances are taken.
Like an innocent child from bad influences
she is kept away, from anything living.
Her identities dissolve, one by one
like her bones
and she grows backwards, into nothing.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Bride Grooming
Look at them
They are made for each other
they groom when they meet
She cleans his glasses
Checks his nails
He holds her hand
to be sure of a normal pulse.
Counts the number of protruding veins
Arranges a lock of hair
and then orders coffee.
They are made for each other
they groom when they meet
She cleans his glasses
Checks his nails
He holds her hand
to be sure of a normal pulse.
Counts the number of protruding veins
Arranges a lock of hair
and then orders coffee.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Diwan-e-Khas
Everybody is welcome
in this haunted house
Excuse me! Don't go that side
Those windows are cobwebbed
to cover her from the outside world
Yes, you heard it right
Even the slightest voices echo here
Take care to not drop that pin.
This used to be the waiting house
for her, the Nawab's mistress.
It is a disputed mansion now
between the local don
and a distant relative.
The judges keep changing
Fresh ones are searched
and put up like the stave
of Gandhi's statue
every Independence day.
She wears a worn out look now
with dark circles under her eyes.
Her eye lids flap in agony
as thunder strikes at her heart
in the pre-monsoon wind.
in this haunted house
Excuse me! Don't go that side
Those windows are cobwebbed
to cover her from the outside world
Yes, you heard it right
Even the slightest voices echo here
Take care to not drop that pin.
This used to be the waiting house
for her, the Nawab's mistress.
It is a disputed mansion now
between the local don
and a distant relative.
The judges keep changing
Fresh ones are searched
and put up like the stave
of Gandhi's statue
every Independence day.
She wears a worn out look now
with dark circles under her eyes.
Her eye lids flap in agony
as thunder strikes at her heart
in the pre-monsoon wind.
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