poetry

Clumsy Love

He drops cheese on his shirt

I drop the chicken spoon in the curd rice

He abruptly stops

As I walk past and place my hand

On a stranger’s shoulder

Clumsy, clumsy love

Soaring mercury

Shining faces drenched in sweat

My hands glitter

And he shows his fangs

Clumsy, clumsy love

“Do you want to kiss?”

“No, I shall give that moment, a miss”

“Will you travel here again?”

“Give me reason, make it insane”

Clumsy, clumsy love

I travel north

He goes south

With his cheese stained shirt

And I leave with a flutter in my heart

Clumsy, clumsy love

poetry

When I die

Don’t say “Rest In Peace” when I die

I have never known peace,

A chaotic riot I have been

Don’t say rest, for ask my mum

And she will say, I hated sleeping

Or resting, for restless I have been

When I die

Gather around a table

Have a great dinner – keep it light

Fish and wine

With good music in the background

Some vodka, good quality hash

And talk to each other

Get to know my people

My tribe of misfits

Talk about my eccentricities and

Idiosyncrasies

Something that’s still humorous

Even when waterfall unleashes from your eyes

Laugh through tears

Or tear up laughing

Tell them how I woke you up

Because this one wacky idea I had

Excited me

Tell them how I took forever to move on from a boy

Narrate how I had these weird ass

Kidnap fantasies

And on a misty morning

I stood on top of a hill

And said “And everything else is an illusion”

And when you have finished your dinner

Say a good night

And as you walk out of my house

That midnight

Look at the star clad night

And say “Goodbye”

And smile — I promise

I will smile back from wherever I am.

poetry

Shards of Glass

Your memories were stuck to me

Like shards of glass

It pained when I pulled each one out

It bled as I closed my eyes

And they were moist

For all I know

I would love to sleep every night

Of my life

With those shards still pierced

But you are not dead

You belong to someone else

These memories will infect me

With septicaemia

I have now started to love

The shooting pain

And last night out on the road

I missed you from the bottom of my heart

But it didn’t make me sad anymore

I just stared into nothingness

This one shard of glass still remains

As a souvenir of a love story

That failed me

poetry

Once upon a time in Mumbai …

Every morning
He walked past her,
Watering Tulsi outside on the balcony
A young man,
Curly haired, long face, wore shoes
With denim jacket and white pants
With his bullet
Rose colored lens
He lived in the 70s while we walked into 90s
She was a woman in 30s she looked like
she just stepped into 20s
Her modest sarees clad body
Don’t let that fool you
Until you see her Kohl lined eyes
Or till you see her through his sight

He’d park his bike, at a perfect angle
To get a second glance
Of her face
She looked at him whenever he didn’t
But somewhere both waited for
The morning
For that one moment of scandal
In their otherwise sober life

She turns left,
He changes his side to the right
Every night
The restlessness, the weird pull
The tension of the summer rain
Looming over humid skies
Forbidden looks so tempting
Through their eyes
Her husband paid her attention
Now in money, and
Somedays when he wanted a child
He was a single soul
Vagabond, shy, women found him attractive
But he was just a grown child

Every sunrise
Bought them together
As he passed by, her body came alive
Some electric forces pulled them together
As she climbed her stairs
And he was running down
And they almost crashed into each other
She smiled
He was sly
Her husband walked past them
As if he was never alive
With her

Straightens her saree
As he flicks his curls
He descends over her
As she steps down
Probably, a long down from
What defines her

He pins her to the wall,
At the corner of the spiral staircase
It was a rainy morning
Surprise thunderstorms rocked the earth
While he placed his hand beside her head
And with the other
He roved o’er his neck
She traced her fingers on his lips
Her soft, firm movements
She made music on them

The young boy could take no more
He wasn’t ever touched this way
No one ever felt him away
He proceeded closer with his eyes
Rolled to the sky
He covered his mouth
As he looked at her for a while
He flicked his hand through the end
Of her face
Way down, swirling over her neck
And she closed her eyes
Her kohl kept him awake
He’d never sleep again

He kissed her hand
She kissed her hand
Lips fought them to reach each other
But her beautiful hand
Was now damp
From the leaky roof, droplets from the rain
Hit her forehead and slipped down
He traced them on her nose
When they reached her lips
Her hand came off
And they kissed
While his nails etched her waist

Her saree slipped through the shoulder
He placed his hand in between
The rain poured like
An unexpected stranger
Droplets trickled down her face
Quenching then
All those thirst filled nights
Sleepless touching themselves
Her touch felt his fire
His feel was ice
As they were about to burn in desire

Her toddler,
Called her out,
She freed herself from his hold
And returned home
While he walked into the rain
And rode his bike

Monsoons were just beginning.

The photo was used from Pinterest.com

poetry

The best thing

The best thing to do at this moment
Is to place one word after another
Bead them together
Wishing it’d make us feel better
When it’s done
As if these words give birth
A new lease of life

The best thing to do at this moment
Is to let you go
So you may one day find your
Way back to me

The best thing to do at this moment
Is choose my words
Intricately like picking beads of different
Sizes and colours
To weave a necklace
As if the necklace either adds to my life
Or just chokes me to death

The best thing to do at this moment
Is to let you go
So you may one day find your
Way back to me

The best thing to do at this moment
Is to hope that you really buy
These words
That stem like mini explosives from the
Root of my throat
As a parting gift.
Hoping this is not a goodbye
At least not yet.

The best thing to do at this moment
Is to let you go
So you may one day find your
Way back to me