That little thing called life

 












A little limitless blue

amongst a maze of electric wires connecting cloud to cloud

A small peep of some warm earth

from behind the cold cloak of cement 

A shock of lush, life-full wild

in the sterile silence of large empty offices

A touch of cold rock under bare foot

amidst red pump-heels muffled in carpeted lobbies

A shriek of real pain, a flame of true passion

amidst calculated words and glassy eyes

The moon a little more fairer

sooted behind the exhaust fan in the kitchen window

And amidst all the chaos of living

that little something called life!

Notes - It started out as sentences but turned into a blank verse. I couldn't find the exact image that can go with the words, but this one comes close. Picture by Punit when we visited Vasai Fort.

All I need......is you

Its been a while

since I have felt this way

But now that I do

it feels like the only way

its supposed to ever be

just you and me

and the magic that is ‘us’!

Am not about pretty roses

sweet smiles, sugary proses

I’ll be your anchor in rough seas

When its too sunny to smile

I’ll be the breeze

And after a bad dream

when I shiver at night

Just hold me tight

So I know you care

And no matter what

you will always be there

to hold me close, keep me warm

Through to the dawn

through all the storm.

Don’t bring me the stars

Brown teddy, gifts or flowers

I need no words

no compliments old or new

All I need on my day

….is you.

Notes - This one is not a great piece of poetry, I understand; in terms of technique, meaning, style or even choice of words. But what I like it for is its flow and simplicity. I was cleaning up the store room, a day before Diwali, when I started humming these lines. It was as if singing one's favourite song after years, not knowing you still remember the lyrics so well!



my funeral

purple flowers slowly settled

over the dying day’s eyes

and in the dark of the growing night

drowned the crimson of sullen skies

on the ripples of breeze, swift, unusually cold

soaked in death’s savour

my breaths drifted away, and for ever

mist smiles on my face

eyes gaze into infinity

has winter seeped too deep

when spring should be?

or was that a touch of death?

in immense darkness

on a wooden pile I sleep

the wood and I burn endlessly

and the darkness grows deep

the shine has lost forever

words withered in smoke cloud

heart beats speak no more

murmur of the crackling fire ‘s too loud

my feeble hands unreachable

to clasp the smoke

 lost in murky air

in the touch of golden silk flames

I see myself

being tickled, tossed and turned

innocent fire wipes unceasingly

stains of death’s shadows on me

and I get burned!

clutched in the arms of smoke I lie

but the cotton plugs deny

a taste of my mortality

beside the fire I sit and see

the smouldering lips

the vapouring curls

and the vanishing me

those were the eyes of blooming dreams

now melt on shameless pyre

 the ashes laugh, mock at me

they carry the death’s desire

stillness, silence, then a hum far away

a pulse in flesh that as soft can be

an unborn life

that’s me...

Notes – This is undoubtedly my favorite of all the poems. I wrote it in my tenth grade. There is a chapter in the Bhagvat Gita, in which Lord Krishna makes Arjun imagine the death of his own body, to emphasize on the fact that he is an everlasting soul and not the mortal body. That is where I drew my inspiration. Couldn't quite get it to a smooth finish though.

Kabhi Toh....

kabhi toh toot jaane ka mann karta hai

bikharke, hazaaron kataron mai,

beh jaane ka mann karta hai

kisi kohre ki tarah,

subah ki dhoop mai, chupke se,

ghul jane ka mann karta hai

kabhi toh toot jane ka mann karta hai.

in chann aasuoon ko beh jaane de agar,

ek samandar sa kuch inme doob jayega

kya kahe ki kis tarah khamoshi mai tadapti hai cheekhen

vo toh tanhai hai, jo milti nahi....

Notes - The last semester at college was the best lesson in stress management. Juggling a full-time job along with a full-time college was very challenging. The poem is meant to convey a feeling of disintegration.

 

Unbruised

Walking along the shadowy banks
A river coursing through silent hills
Feet wandering in shallow cold waters
Mind humming at the edges of infinity

My river a mosaic of broken glass
A hundred dying suns knitted together
Fake, a fake grandeur
Like the sparkle in moistened eyes deceives

The calm air has a certain tinge
Like the bright hues of melting skies
As I draw forth these painted breaths
I wonder, how sometimes
The world stains us..

Echoes of silence rip off the peace
Of my sacred dome
But outside is a world of sound
Melancholy cries of birds
The soft chuckle of river
Yet somehow
They remain unheard
Like a dried leaf floats on
But the waters unaware

What is this teasing odour of?
Odour of the dark?
Odour of absence?

Is this what it feels to be alone?
A single feeling delving deep?
But deep enough
To bruise the tender inner core

Waves lap the rock
Motionless impression-less
It stands
Through old waters and new
It stands
And so shall I
Must walk unfeeling
And wrap these fragile moments
Hold them in my arms
Close to my heart
So that they lie
Unburned by the sun
Unstained by the sky
Unsmoked by the dark and
Unbruised by absence.



Notes- I was walking along a river bank one evening. I find the evenings most inspiring of all times. This poem is about cherishing happy moments and most importantly safeguarding them from all the bad things that happen in life. Because during tough times memories of happier times give us the strength to keep going.

Death songs

Death songs trickle down my face
like scarlet across feathers white
what scream was that which breached?
the dreams of my flight?

smiles, now broken
slit the throat
beliefs, from dark corners shiver,
the shattered glass
onlooks a million times-
dancing anklets silent forever

in a house ransacked and ruined
I cry inconsolable

they looted something precious.
not breathing, not being
something else made me living
…..I lost something precious

death lived I
but a hint still stays
lingering like a scent
of stale roses in a temple

Coffee Stains

That day,
as you left the room,
you took
all the light with you.

now all that remains -
are the coffee-stains on time-kissed pages
and the dust laden sighs of the lonely table…

The air is still moist
with your words
lips still wet with its wine…..
Was it not yesterday?
that I watched the sun
setting on your face,
and when you opened your eyes
the world was lit again?

Every night as I sleep,
moon-drenched by the window
quietly, the silence burns
in gentle silver flames
leaving behind a tear
in my dream-filled eyes….

the tear falls gently
like December's’s snow
and how it burns a summer in my heart!

too drunk on memories
when the mind becomes
I dance like the wind
barefeet, in desert’s cold sand.
while the sounds of anklets
ravage my world
in modest little storms.

the empty room breathes
heavily
in hollow broken breaths
the faint echoes of your laughter
simply spoil the mood
like a scream of green piercing from a frosted heart!

'coffee stains' is a word I like a lot for some reason (may be it has got to do something with my fondness for coffee). For me it symbolizes memories of happy times, like an old photograph of smiling faces.

The empty room in the poem symbolizes an empty heart. Although it has been portrayed a lot like a lover's lament it actually is about these being the last two months of my college and missing my friends and roomies (leo feo).

The 'burning of silence' symbolizes the quietude and loneliness of the room at night. The 'scream of green' is a new shoot or leaf in the dead of winter.

Abortion

and night fell
slowly
viscous and dark
like a warm liquid
coursing through the skies
while they danced and danced
in ceremonious rhythms
the ancient dance of ecstasy……

came morning
sun-washing all sins
unnoticed in darkness
of your womb
I hung bat-like
a shy pulse
throbbing
for four months,
four months you nursed a mistake
till one day the womb spat it out

under white sterile glare
and hands cold precise
your body yellowed- iodine infected
I lay lifeless formless
a pulp of discarded flesh
grasping rationality

mother did it hurt?
did you moan? did you cry?
did you say?
“What songs she would have sung!
What a woman she would have made!”