Please wait precious

Please wait precious

let the colors of the earth

blend with the color of your eyes

and let me imagine you

in shades of the October sky

the November rain

and, the December night.

Please wait precious

Let the colors in your eyes

Remind me of the January mornings

Days in February

and the March sun

Please wait precious

Take over me

Like April mango showers

the May flowers

and the clouds in June

Please wait precious

Hold me in the July storm

The August rush

And till September ends

Please don’t go my precious

For the October has

only begun.



When the last residents vacated

the house broke

You see, there is no grace in breaking

It was chaos in the beginning

the pictures that once decorated the walls

Were replaced by cobwebs

Scabs from the ceiling fell down

The house smelled musky

You see, breaking is not beautiful

However several seasons later

the roof leaked

And the door cracked

Letting in both the rain and sun

The floor became earth again

and the wind brought along the seeds

there grew a garden

of moss and wildflowers

You see, after a while

When what has to,


everything goes numb

while the grounds splits

to allow growth

and then the house waits


for someone to make a home

while it is already one to many

and then one rainy day

a traveller

finds the place

on her way to nowhere

she peeks inside

and is mesmerized with the beauty

that was born in the



When it ends

And when conversations end
I’ll still come home to you
merely acknowledge your presence
in the corner of the room
as I throw away my bag
jump into the bed
as you play the sarod
you pull the strings
nonchalantly one after the other
as my eyes flutter
lips quiver
nose crinkles
and my hands tremble
hair flies
to the breeze
in the sultry heat
my toes curl;
My dead eyes
set on yours
as they sparkle
they fill mine with sight
and I laugh,
you look away
as waves crash
horns blare
but there’s quiet
in the house,
the lights flicker
as thunder strikes
I moan
as you hum
And I gasp
you run your fingers
on the strings
as breeze quickens the pace;
and it pours
as I weep
and papers fly
but you stay put on your sarod
and I on the bed
when conversations end.



I have never been quiet

other than the times when

your face was against mine

as trains sped in the background

and a crow cried;

Whatever little light that can,

sneaks in to light your face

like you do tonight to mine

and all the words I want to say,

I hide them in my smile

You talk in a haste

As if you want to get off

Something from your chest

I lay facing away

and you are anxious to whether

I accept or deny

but I only soak in your words

Because as long as I can hear you

I know we are fine

Speak up, you insist

and I hold your face

and move closer

I have nothing to say love

I am just happy to be here

in the now – I think

We pass out

with your arm stretched wide

and I wake up in a while

you do too

Pulling me close

If we got any more closer

I couldn’t tell us apart

You seek me in the dark

As the night races

to dawn

For brief moment

the trains stop

The crow flies away

All that we hear is beats

And breaths

a solemn permission

a subtle consent

And the trains run again

as I drift off to sleep

and you sneak out

like the sun.

It’s a new morning

and I have been quiet

since then.



When I was five,

an older kid told me

If I don’t hold on to my umbrella

It’d fly away

What a tragedy for a child

to lose an umbrella to the wind

I held love

like I was asked to hold an umbrella


Monsoon after monsoon

It never flew

Only I lost it after sometime

Then for a few monsoons

I went without an umbrella

I was told a young woman

shouldn’t get drenched

But the rebel I, let the rain

take me away

Some monsoons they’d mock me

Saying I’d fly away

and then finally I fell

for someone else’s umbrella

‘I like this one’ – I said

And the boy just gave it away

A few monsoons I carried the

Beautiful thing around

I didn’t hold on it as firmly

but it became a public property

And eventually grew old

Finally I threw it when I found

a snake had made home inside it

Then I got myself umbrellas

That didn’t mean it anything

and kept leaving them behind

One monsoon I set my eyes on a

Esprit umbrella

Tiny, came with a case

This won’t last, a friend said

But do you see how wonderful it is –

I defended my choice

and he said – this is fair weather umbrella

and we have storms

But I persisted

Until it got stolen

And I kept the case

Never bought an umbrella again

Until someone gave theirs to me

I am not good with umbrella- I told

The kind man

Keep it – he said

And now I keep leaving it behind

but it comes back to me

It feels mine sometimes

and at others it keeps me safe

It’s heavy enough to stay

I don’t have to hold it firmly anymore

and if this flies then I will probably

Laugh like I would

When I was five.