Wednesday, December 21, 2011


It seemed as if
Everything that I had owned
Was gushing into the
Ancient whirlpool of
The navel,
When he said,
‘You’re a peculiar child’,
Not a woman,
Not even a girl,
But a child…

Now Playing:: Lean on me.....Bill Withers

Sunday, December 18, 2011


No one at his club knows our secret, or so we
Would like to believe. They know me by another
Name, they know me as one who writes poems.
I flutter around wearing mother’s sarees and during
The brief time-outs when I keep to myself, men float up
And settle on either side of my couch trying to know my
Age. I smile and laugh with all the flamboyance of a flirt,
And occasionally one of them would politely ask for a
Picture, in memory of an evening spent with someone who
Writes poems. Once in a while I catch him staring at me from
A crowded corner of the hall, and then, affecting nonchalance
At the pretty sight of me clad in a saree and lost in the company
Of other men. “There is pleasure in this side of the world, too”, I
Tell him, when we later resign into the night. Raising his soft,
Liquid eyes he kisses me gently on the forehead and as I nuzzle
Closer I’m invariably reminded of another face,
Another set of arms,where I had found
A similar unsatisfying warmth…

Now Playing:: Wahin chal mere dil.......Suresh Wadkar

Saturday, December 17, 2011


It must have been a thousand years old,
That face in the humble darkness,
Which speaks of a singular legend;
Of Love's unsatisfying embrace,
Of Man's slow swim into the forbidden.

Now Playing:: Itna na mujhse tu pyaar badha......Lata & Talat