Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from 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. 

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

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,

Empty Houses

In the little moments of conscious clarity, between muddled minds, huddled bodies and cluttered spaces of my everyday living, I keep going back to the time we met last and said our last goodbyes.

If I knew that you would move into the mist and be one with the fog and the darkening caves;
If I knew that the somersaults of your mind would exile me into the realms of the unknown, and that you would take my place, my face and my being in you
and consume it to an ancient memory …

Maybe I would have held you back a little closer.
Hugged you a little tighter, smelt you a little longer, allowed your entangled hairs to ease out of my fingers, a little slower.

Maybe, just maybe, I would have gone for that one last kiss...

Why does it not rain...like rain?

Why does it rain in little drizzles
And not just pour it's heart out
All at once and for all time, into all places
Into the roads the canals and the drains

Why does it not rain, like rain?

Why not just roar
And with a thunderous wail
Cause a cloudburst
Break a Dam
Deluge a city
Annihilate

Why does it not rain like rain?

If only I could think of you,
Just once
Instead of having to think
In drizzles and drops and sobs
And in between shadows
And all this chaos

If I could think of you
For the last time,
Like a cloudburst
And then
In one brilliant tragic flood
Be washed away and be gone
Forever, With all this slush
And all this mud.

Some lives

The dawn was breaking across the horizon.
I could see crimson orange streaks of sunlight getting scattered in the morning mist.
This was the time she generally got up and walked to the kitchen. The time when, with ruffled hairs and a wrinkled nighty, all dark and broody, she would look out of the balcony and breathe in another day. A day that would be broody or cranky or happy, depending on what mood she woke up with.

The Sunlight that streaks across the clouds of an oncoming monsoon would also be shining down her windowpane just now. Just now, she would also be looking up at the sky. Just now, she would also be alive in some other part of the world, thinking about everything but me.

I watched the sun hang in there for a moment, as if asking of me to move ahead and stop thinking about her.
And then I stopped thinking about her, and the day moved on.

The Space is a cold place

Were you two really close once?
I don't know. Never really thought about it that way. I always liked to believe that I was close to her. But then I will never really know, right?


And now?
And now I know that I am not. I am no longer a moon, and she no longer is my Sun. From where I live now, she is more like a distant star, and I, a satellite, unhinged.

Winds of Change

As you move from being an institution in my mind to just another person, all those definitions and all those expectations, too, transition through time.

You for me
Are like an old world Talkie
Where once, small town movies
Played to uncouth rustic folks like me.

I romanticize my pain
And I glorify my losses.
All movies that played here
In my mind,
Were blockbuster movies
And all actors
Were characters
From my little life with you.

Once we down the shutters
For long enough in time
Time would cure me
Of my countryside memories
Of whistling of the trains
And the running in the rain.

I will remember you
Like I want to
You will forget me
Like you are wont to.

If a drop could Color an Ocean

If a drop could color an Ocean
You my dear,
Would be that drop
And my life an endless 
                              Expanse of you.

The Long Sleep

In the little lies I tell myself
Lying awake late into nights
Between sheets as cold
As your last remembered gaze
I find myself thinking about you
In endless hellish loops.

Wind in your hair
The Sun in your eyes
The gloss, the glitter
And the sudden burst
Of laughter...

And then everything
Turns bitter

If only there was one Death
Like the last blip  On a matrix like screen
And then
N.o.t.h.i.n.g...

@The Agartala Airport

These Tribal colors are alluring. Bright reds interlaced with dark of the greens. The beads, the shimmer of coarse native silk and the anticipation of making a sale, in Pinky Das' eyes!
Madam will be very happy, she said. The stole will go well with the beads.
I keep buying stuff
Imagining
That someday you will walk in
And ask for them.
I keep living
Forgetting
That the leather case from last year
And the mustard silk batik from last month
Remain cocooned in their shells
Awaiting redemption
From their misery
Of being with me.

Absolution

I looked at the rampage on the pages.
Words scribbled in search of redemption
And stricken off by sins of despair.
Surely, this is not the promised road to Elysium.
Nothing would grow
Out of these half bled out pages
and an ancient pen.
I have to go out into the world and seek my redemption.

- - - -

These open windows
Let streaks of sunlight drift in
Reeking of her light

Dead Dry

The earth is so withered  From its longing for you
The reeds of your memories
Have shriveled dry and bled
Into parchments of forever tales.
Now my dear, There will no longer
Be any death for you

Objects in the rear-view mirror are…

When it was time for her to go, it was also time for me to let go. Once an irritant is washed out, they say you can start seeing better immediately. All that stupid tears and all that rubbing of the soul, until your eyelids would cry out, no more, no more. 
And then, just like that, one fine day, I wake up, and she was gone.
As the train chugged out
The tracks cried out in senseless
creaks of half despair