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Jan 13, 2020

That City Girl

For me you have been a traveler
The one who rides the oceans
and the big blue seas
Seeking experiences
That can be framed into postcards
Of wonderful memories
For a future 
That is yet to unravel. 

Your today's rush you
Into your tomorrows 
And in its wake
Small boats likeme
Would mostly sink
Into long forgotten memories
Of abandoned islands 
Where you now live no more. 

As I watch you sleep
The glasses back on your face
The little girl back in the rug
The silent one yearning for a hug
I feel you tug at my cuffs
Ten more minutes,  you say
Stay with me,  for ten more minutes...
And then I am scared
Of who you will be
When you wake up.

Oct 27, 2019

Tough times

Sometimes,  life drums itself into a crescendo. The high notes bleed you and the low notes depresses you 

When you decide to change your skin
You realise that you got it all wrong!

You will hurt 
Your loved ones will hurt 
And you will see red, 
Everywhere. 

Who ever told you,  
That it will be easy
Lied to you. 

Whoever told you
That it will be tough
Lied to you too.

Nobody outside of you
Will ever have a clue. 

And if you pull through
Whatever you go on to become
May or may not be
What you ever wanted to be.

A puppet on strings invisible
As you dance to your present death
Everybody else out there
Is just watching you
And probably
Having fun. 

Sep 9, 2019

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
That now lies deserted
For she was a small woman,
With a big village for a heart!

It is now time for me to head back home
And clear the weeds from where she sleeps

Till the land until it glows anew
With her berries, tubers and what she wills.

 

Vishu Tree: The Indian Laburnum or the Golden Shower Tree

Sep 6, 2019

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.

Aug 28, 2019

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.

Aug 26, 2019

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.

Aug 20, 2019

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.

That City Girl

For me you have been a traveler The one who rides the oceans and the big blue seas Seeking experiences That can be framed into postcar...