Works of RK

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

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.

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

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.

I do not love you Like the way those teenagers do. I love the fall of your velvet skirt I love the waves I love the crests I love how you look at me With that new burgundy gloss Pouting Waiting. I cannot love you Like teenagers do.

I followed your trail through the ancient by lanes of my memory. I could see your footprints span across all my remembered life. I have never really trusted my memory. I forget more than I remember. But of this I am sure, that those footprints are not from this life. These are from every life I have ever lived.

I love your play. I love it when you stand close enough for me to breath in your Gucci. I love it when you lean on me, your hair falling on my shoulders and parts of you brushing against me. There are fires that burn without and the ones that burn within. I love the way you control this combustion!