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Showing posts from March, 2015

Slow Death

There is a futility in loving you I know that you grow in lonely places in me And will eventually Kill me.
There is a futility in loving you Like moss that grows in my village well Beautiful But treacherous, you see.
There is futility in loving you Like arsenic Green and lifeless Someday I shall be.
There is something about you Around you And in places and things and sounds and stains and smells of you, That softly weighs on my soul. It’s like a background score From a movie Time forgot.
There is futility in loving you And as I watch myself softly sink I remember how you smelt Of Victoria's Secret And other crazy things.
First published in Indian Sahitya, Feb 2017 Issue on Contemporary Indian Poetry

Virus Attack

I know what it is
I have lived through this before.
It starts with a simple ping
A rather unnoticed query
Reaching out to the heart admin.As I fight to forget you
You quickly upgrade yourself
From a PUP to a malware
And then to a virus that destroys
Any semblance of control
That I thought I had on my thoughts.What shall I do with you
When every time I run away from you
You crash my OS with your thoughts.Come hack me forever my dear
And turn me into a zombie
Forever playing programs
That entertains you.

Ink That Blots

Come
Fill my pen
And flow through my little life
Adding colors
And forever staining
What were white empty pages
In waiting
Endlessly
For this fluid verse.Let's make love
With these moments.
Punctuate me
So that I never run out of breath.
Complete me
So that there be meanings
Stringed together
Out of ordinary letters
That etch a forever tale.

Special to Me

As special as every single snowflake
Before it falls on to the other
And becomes ice.As special as the first born
After years of thankless
Tyranny of time.As special
As the memory
Of our first kiss.As special
As first love
As the first rains
The first house
The first pay
The first dance
The lost ones
The loved ones
The dear LordAnd
This life
With you in it.

With the Sun in my eyes

There was a turn up ahead on the road. A turn that I did not want to take. There are times when you don't want any further changes in your life at the moment. It was one such moment in my life in time. However, the concept of having a choice is rather overrated. If I had a choice, I would have become a deodar tree in the middle of Indian rain forests and lived quietly for a million years. Such choices are never available. There was a turn up ahead on the road. The turn required of me to move along its contours. The turn wished of me to succumb to it's long curves and stay away from its guarded rails. Missing the turn would have meant a dive into the setting sun. I can imagine how it would have felt, a white car trying to land on the setting sun. As the sun's saffron hue set the horizons on fire, I once again found myself on a road that leads to you.

That wife like thingy who lives with me!

I change my name when I am home. The person who cooks bakes cleans mops and goes about keeping a very clean house is not me. It is someone else living in me. Her name is Rajesh Kumari!It took years for the beautiful girls at Spencers to believe that I am single and I buy provisions for all of myself. In India, you cannot be 40 and single. Its too strange in too many ways for too many people. A typical Indian male is an infant forever on the verge of growing up, but never actually getting there. When the 27 year old is finally weaned away from his mom, he quickly learns to latch on to the young Indian wife who is supposed to suckle him till worlds end. Most men from my generation have rarely held a knife in their hands. Kitchen was always moms forte and then it was the wife's job. Most guys don't know how to fold a vest and the brief is something which is supposed to magically get cleaned and made available by the mom, or the thingy you call wife. If you show them a ridged gour…

Just Passing Through

I have often been flagged down
By random strangers looking for a ride..
Which way they would ask
And I will tell them,
I am just passing by.It's a long road I have traveled
And with me on this journey
Have traveled quite a few,These roads have been mostly kind
And in moments of rare distress
I have found strangers in my life,
Kinder than the friends around.Don't honk too loud behind me
I shall allow you a pass without a murmur
I have been a rider on this road for long
There is really no place I call myself a home
Even as you hurry ahead
Remember brother
I am just passing through.

How high is high enough?

Would you like to have a bigger house, a bigger car and more money into your accounts? This is a question that has been thrown at me several times in the past. It is also a question upon which I have given many hours of thought. My name is Rajesh. It is a very common name in India. Already 2% of all men, if not more, will have this name. My other name is Kumar. A good 5% of population will share their second name with me. There is nothing in my name that forces me to believe that I am either better off or worse off than anyone else. However, when my grandma used to call my name, she made it sound like the best possible name in the universe. When my dad introduces me to his friends, and ads "my son" to my name, he makes it sound like no other name. When my sister or my cousins speak of me, they make my name sound quite like a la George Clooney. When my boss calls out my name, with a string of superlatives and expletives, he makes it sure that everyone knows...you need to be a…

Stain my white shirt

Kiss me everywhere
Stain my whites
Let there be pink creases on my arms
And let the glitter flakes raise a sparkle.When I walk into the night tonight
Let there be disco lights all around.
I pray for people to stop and stare
And with a scandalous tch! tch!
Look at me and think of you.Go on Princess
Paint me in all your hues.