Works of RK

On a dark magenta evening I could see bright ochre leaves Falling wearily on to a willing ground Awaiting one final embrace From those Who had once moved up In search of life Outside a lemon yellow shoot That eventually turned A dull dreary brown With all this tired living.

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

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.

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.

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 Lord And This life With you in it.

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.

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