Stranger and I

Always the same craving that leads us
To the same one-night cheap hotel, where
Certain floors smell of human urine; offensive,
But not offended, we hasten to the usual.

Sometime later, still lying on the wet sheets,
He inquires, if I remember the story of how
He was molested at the tender age of
Fourteen on a rain filled afternoon?

Laughing out loud, he gives my shin a savage
Tweak. My eyes follow him through the
Length of the room, and for the first time I
Notice his feminine hands on the door knob.


Now Playing:: Aye hairathe aashiqui..........Guru

Untitled

Today, a fellow blogger signed off saying, “its better we stick sharing our creativity, chatting isn’t a great idea, take care and hope you go on with your blog very well.”

What preceded it is a long story… I’m not surprised or shocked. I might have expected it at some level.

Meeting poets I am disconcerted sometimes
………………
Best to meet in poems:
Cool speckled shells
In which one hears
A sad but distant sea.
(Eunice de Souza)

Diwali

The hubris now lies spent,
Dull and tired.
Anger, is another country;
It reeks of impotence.
Yet, it grows more and more,
And asks me to seek a vent.
Doubtful,
I put it to sleep…

‘Imposter’, cries the hubris,
‘tomorrow they’ll light the lamps!’


Now Playing:: Chalte chalte.........Pakeezah

The Secret Sharer

Today,
Amidst every scanty piece of clothing,
I shall look for the secret sharer,
And ask him,
If he could
Rest my sick secret and
Cloud it for a night or two,
So that,
For once,
At least once,
I would know, what it is
To be
Free?


Now Playing:: Yeh safar.........Shivaji Chattopadhyaya

The Absent

I don’t know. Maybe it has always been the absence of the unattainable other half (read love) that has made me more distant, more romantic, more loud in my thoughts. Ah, how they allude to the charming Byronic ideals! But, that’s what they are, mere ideals. Ideals are wretched things. They peck at your nerves, bruising them here and there, and even before you realize they’ll make friends walk away, either in envy or in disgust; mostly in disgust. There is no charm in holding onto things real or surreal; absolute fulfillment eludes everyone. It simply does not exist.

I once had a friend who, talked of being loved but not loved enough. “Where do I go?” he would ask, “how do I cure this terrible, terrible loneliness?” There were no answers then, there are no answers now. In spite of the said feelings, he remained a cheerful person, and at times, answering his own questions, he would reflect on how most of us remain empty throughout our lives and die even without realizing that emptiness. Later, however, he would chuckle heartily at his thoughts and say that it’s good that we do not realize, because when the time comes, we would only fill the emptiness with all sorts of muck, and then, try to run away, because the stench inevitably becomes unbearable. What could I offer to such deep reflections, except a mild nodding acquaintance?

Almost every night I sit down to write about that friend of mine, struggling hard to remember all that he ever said during his moments of arrant disillusionment. Maybe, there was always a degenerate romance in the way he unfolded his frustrations, talked about his ordinariness, and flaunted his shameless, but frank individuality. His beliefs changed every day, his reasons varied to the extent of being whimsical, but the loftiness of his thoughts remained unchanged. There was something very reaching in his voice, which made one talk. Ah, fancy! How often it deceives the mind!

Of all the things that were exchanged, I remember him telling me that, memories do not last long, and that the absent are soon forgotten.



Now Playing:: Main aur meri awaargi………..Kishore Kumar

Abandon

Let someone else be your messiah,
I’m not a fine phrase anymore.
Abandon. Abandon. Abandon.


Now Playing:: Anjani rahon mein........Lucky Ali

I would be smiling for a long time!

On Shores of Auld Romances

Never visit the forgotten shores of auld romances,
Darling, no matter how horribly alone you feel
When the darkness closes in. There is something in
Degenerate romances, my love. They would reach
Out to you, they would make you talk, they would
Make you beg, and like termites they would empty
You of your pride.

If an unguided ramble takes you along those
Shores, stand facing the sea and hear it roar. Oh!
How we traffic in pain darling! Enough of it! The
Sea might give you the ruthless blows, my love,
But it will also make you feel stronger. Now walk
Away. Softly. Silently. Shut your thoughts darling
They’re filled with cold words.

Walk on. Walk on my love. Somewhere a new
Love is waiting to grow.


Now Playing:: Roobaroo............Rang de Basanti

Fare Thee Well

Enough, enough!
Goodbye to poetry.
It makes me dream and swoon
For men I’ve lost, than
The men I’ve won!


Now Playing::Om shanti om......Kishore Kumar

Someone Else's Song

I watch her haste to the wine not like a
Reveller, but like a dancing eunuch after a
Long day’s toil. Nothing in her face or body
Would flush a man with sex. ‘Why is she so
Ugly’ kids so often question their bored mothers.
Her folks call her Summer, yet she drapes her
Windows with curtains of black pausing the
Yellow without. As I watch her more and more
I detest her too.

All through the afternoon she sobs with her
Quiet tongue, and at night… I hear the frantic
Clicking of an auld typewriter reminding me of
Its almost human voice. The morning with its
Expected light mocks at my blank unfinished
Paper as I quietly go through her metrical
Contributions to life. Ah! How she talks of love!
But this was supposed to be my song! Envy,
It blooms like ink on blotting paper.

My soul would cry later, but my mortal hand
Didn’t clinch a bit to sign my name for
Someone else's song.

Now Playing:: Jaane kya tune kahi........Geeta Dutt

Closure

And then, there are women who,
When life tires them out,
Realize their modest dreams, and
Sit down to write verses.


Now Playing:: Iktara............Wake up Sid

Genesis

When mothers die,
They leave the daughters pregnant.
When fathers die,
They leave the sons with child.

Is it true?
I ask my auld friend
Of auld times.

That’s the only sign you
Can recognize, he says.
Why go to the river, when
Even the well reflects the sky?

What a pretty domestic scene!
One grows into the other just so soon!


Now Playing:: Yaad.............Shehzad Roy

Draupadi

On lazy summer afternoons when the tall casuarinas
Haunt my vacant daydreams, the ancient mango tree
In the yard sits brooding at the end of the dream,
Slowly spreading its boughs, like a spider’s gossamer
Into the lost hours of time. How easy it is to ignore the tree
And continue with my dream! But not today! Why is it,
That today, the stillness of its leaves scream of a woman
Who had once asked for blood to wash her grief? Why is it,
That today, I see that woman soaking her black density in
Streams of red, and her eyes humming in happiness like
Beloveds do at the sight of roses? Why is it, that today,
The look in her eyes makes me imagine, the lonely
Meanderings of the roots, coiled and twisted in the deep
Darkness… desperately grappling with the earth, so that
The boughs above could bear some fruit, and crowd
It for a season, for a sacrament?


Now Playing:: Badi dheere jali...........Ishqiya

Ugly

It does not end there. Between dreaming and waking, I
Recall a name, perhaps even a face, and a voice that had
Once screamed, “ugly”! How many years ago was that?
Nine? Ten? Recent? I don’t remember. But now, lying at
The brink of sleep, I recall, I recall being called “ugly”!
When did the dream catch up? It’s hard to recollect.
If life rejects, would not death be kind? Maybe not.
Maggots and ants; would they mind feeding on an ugly
Sodium reeking body? When was it, that I last saw them?
Saw them, feasting on the distended carcasses of mute
Toads, whose fat bellies I had ripped apart for the sake of
Insignificant grades. But mother says Hindus burn
Their dead! Oh! Let me save some face mother. Fling
A handful of earth on me when I’m dead. Let the
Scavengers finish it off in a silent darkness, let not
People avert their eyes and reject me, even in death…


Now Playing:: Tu jaane na..............Atif