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Circle of Life

It was a roller coaster life
Until it was not fun anymore

Whirlwind tours
Large, life changing projects
Lots of love
Lots of attention
Until it was a party no more.
When it rained
And the grass was green again
When it was springtime
And the Vishu flowers
Bloomed again
I could sense her call
In the increased longing
Of my lines now gradually filling
With pathos and loss
I looked at the work-bay
So antiseptically clean!
The computer screen
With a background
That now had no new stories to tell! And I looked out of the window
And saw a million cars
Being driven
To now meaningless places
For now meaningless reasons.
I closed my eyes and she spoke to me... Through the pollen and the petrichor Through the call of the fisherman And the song of the paddy field worker I could hear the evening drums from my village temple Now beat closer home than ever before The deity would visit me in my dream And ordain: Follow me home, follow me home, follow me home!

It is only a little tract of land
Recent posts

Dark nights and howling trees

You appear more often in my dreams these days 
Some really strange and some most inexplicable.

Today, I saw you crossing
A dark and lonesome wood Filled with translucent creepers  And monstrous trees with fangs
And then the woods, they morphed And took on strange forms
Of shapes I could not comprehend.

And then there were other dreams. Here, I am holding you close, and there I find myself crying for you, as you suddenly turn into the wind and the rustling of the leaves and the fire from fireflies turning into dragons.
Here I drown in your dark broody eyes, and there you look at me, from behind ancient ruins of broken homes and stairs that run into dungeons and mazes...
And starless skies 
And empty white spaces.
I don't sleep well these days
In me, you don't sleep well these days.

Not here, Not there...

I don’t want to be here anymore
The ageing paint and the dripping taps
The fading chairs and the dirty Oven
That now no one cares for
Reminds me of you

Their hellos, their smiles,
And the way they look at me as I walk in
And walk out
Alone
Burdens my soul…
I don’t want to be here anymore

And I don’t want to be there
Where the table you sat on is
And the plate I served you in
Is
Where an old safety pin
Sits next to a lock of your hair
And a book of mine
From a time I do not now
Remember
I don’t want to be there anymore

Not here
Not there.

Cry, Little Child, Cry!

Hold on to the lean fingers
Of your old young mother's hand
And stop trying to make sense
Of the justice in this all

When the school bells ring
Find a little pebble to break
Go help your father
Climb a hundred stairs
Look down the cavity in the walls
But don't fall, don't fall

May your never experience hunger
Let there be junk from the day before
Served with the kindness
Of strangers who offer
The big lord, gold

Cry little child cry
Let the concrete in the Sethu's* site
Never run dry.
You cry.
You cry.



* A rich man.

Beats in so many places

I read that there was a fire in Andover, near Boston.
I pinged her and saw the double tick
An hour later, a message, I am safe, don't worry.
The heart beats in such distant places.
People die long before they are dead.

Time

Can I borrow you
From a Feynman’s Future
And hide you in my memory corridors
Forever locked
In blocks of eternal presentness?

Can I be with you
Without actually having to be
For that would require of me
To consume time
Grow old and die

I don’t want to fight
Entropy
I just want to be
In space outside of time
Just you and me

Back to the source

You live in those places in me
From where memory is first born
Where thoughts unfettered by fate
And untouched by destiny
Takes birth on its own free will
And lives on with a single desire

The desire to be one
With you.

Nothing else that matters
Matter,