Monsoons in Mumbai

evening of theatre,
thick carpets, warm laughter,
pouring outside - a stormy night;
a good old hindi vetaran making you laugh some, cry some-
we break for sandwiches, strong coffee -
then laugh some more;
heading home in the rains,
walking along a sea gone wild,
dimly the street lights flicker above;
chuck the umbrella its too windy anyways;
a nest of confused curls - damp, dripping;
carrying a cloud overhead;
patiently waiting outside a crowded restaurant,
a steaming bowl of soup warms the trembling fingers.
last local home -
tonight again, eyes close before the day does.

monsoons in mumbai -
love it, hate it,
then hate it some more,
and miss it when its gone,
that annoying old friend
i just can't get rid off.

                                                                                                      violet feet.

                                                                                     a little of heaven

                                                                                          I carry in my steps


This is my experiment in composing a haiku. These gorgeous mountains, as you might have rightly guessed are from Ladakh, J&K, India, clicked in 2010.

  

Spring

leaves resounding

a secret

the wind couldn’t keep

letters from summer

a thought rolls in my mouth

tossed, turned, examined, forgotten.

till it cut the tongue

like a shard of glass

and ceaselessly, memories bled

slipping from the smile’s, tight grip.

heart gave in first, eyes followed.

and now,

winter sits at my doorsteps

awaiting the letters from summer

.....forever

Notes - Letting go is always difficult. This one is for all my friends, college days, the cute little Santa Cruz apartment, collegues at office and the one hell of a ravishing city called 'Mumbai'! I spend an incredible and unforgettable three years here and would return back in two months........ with a ring on my finger. :)

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.