Thursday, December 27, 2007

bloodshed in the kitchen!

purple-brown crispy wisps of
dried onion peel
float like clouds of cotton candy
in my wet kitchen sink

my cheeks, wet with pungent
acrid tears accompanying
the sweetest of agonies
experienced by men only
when chopping onions

tamarind is sour on my
refreshed, nicotine-free taste buds
lemon juice is a tad different
from the sourness of limes
the bitter of bitter gourd
is blunt
compared to the sharp bitter
of tiny red chilies, hotter than
the dry summer sun
in jaisalmer, or kalahari

eyes burn with flames
of fumes from mustard oil –
lamenting olive oil smiles in revenge
from its untouched bottle on the birch shelf.

respectfully attired housewives,
also newly conscious of their nation’s
throbbing economy,
have forgotten the art of traditional bargain.
all discounts are a “deserving” demand
in gleaming supermarkets
overflowing with fresh produce
bargained traditionally
from the corner vegetable shop uncle.

i dexterously slay ladies fingers – okra for the cultured –
and turn them into bruised knuckles
slimy with the ladies’ sticky juice
i relish seasoning the severed limbs with turmeric
red chilli and curry powders,
shove in some green peppers for flavor.
to stop wife from nagging,
throw two cloves in the mess

together with chopped mass
of previously fear-inspiring onions
i fry everything on a blast of flames.
so high is the heat
so blue the burner
that in mere minutes
ladies fingers’ are reduced
to a much unladylike form
fearsome onions, peppers and chilies
are just a finger lick away from salvation.

monsieur poirot, you are not summoned
to solve this mystery
for i know for sure
how they get done away
- in typical north Indian style -
by licks and smacks.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

this scorpion’s universe

eyes tingling with brightness
of a million stars
nostrils flaring with overwhelm
of strange new fears
feet stepping on ubiquitous floor
soft as gingerbread
tentacles poised in
grace, or
defense, or
offence, or,
a mating ritual to impress the otherwise
unimpressionable, and
stoic recipient
of the tender scorpion seed;
thus begins and ends
the vast reign of
the scorpion king!

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

the rain of joy


speckled in the hours between

- days and nights
- black and white
- happiness and sadness
- silence and cacophony
- laughs and frowns
- hugs and fists
- you's and me's
- was and will
- us and them
- barbeques and cup noodles
- vodkas and water
- aspirin and glucosamine
- running and vegetating

lie beautiful wafts of clouds
ready to shower a pink rain of joy
with cool mist draped around the house
and warm flames from the fireplace leaping to cuddle
cold hands, content with frozen happiness
steaming hot corn soup -
with croutons for me and without for you
- waiting impatiently to be sipped, singeing chapped lips
and giant bowls of burning cognac
lulling gently in the chilly breeze of ranikhet -
trapped outside the windows of the solid stone house
- yours, mine...ours, soon I suppose.

plush rugs of two bhutias
pushing warmly socked feet for reassurance
that they will - too - soon get warm nourishment.

boys. ah, the boy.
perennially active, ready to prank any unwilling human -
mostly me, rarely you
impatiently, in energy only little boys can claim
they toggle, tussle, run about in a furry
changing the books in their laps
the chips in their bowls
ravishing all of papa's peanuts, dropping flaky skin all over
mama's precious persian rug finally used after
years of storage in various places not least of them -
yeo chu klang, arcadia, munshi abdullah, bright hill crescent,
farrer park, unicorn ship, delhi warehouse, yishun street 81,
klang lane, and then arcadia again.
her frown, even though severe at the impending cleaning
of the rug, is not unhappy
...having lived, living and hoping to live
a long loving life with the ones she loves and ones who love her.
happy is she. indeed.

Sunday, December 09, 2007


the night is hot
because of my little one's feverish body
his slightly moist, damp skin
has raised the humidity in the bedroom
pajama bottoms pulled up till knees
sleeves rolled way above elbows
my little one is curled up in a tight ball
two pairs of eyes - anxious and red
follow his every move
till the mercury dips towards 37 degrees
I sigh, she sighs
and even a few hours later after the positive
climate change in planet of my son's body
reading lights
remain switched on
fluffed up pillows
divide unoccupied sleeping spaces
but this bed, king size et al,
remains too big for us
without the other
either it is too big
or too small...
when we first met,
when we first made love
when we had intercourse
even single beds seemed too large
we embraced without the fear of tiny aliens
getting wedged between the nooks and crannies
left out in the mass of intertwined limbs
but now we share the mattress, the pillows and the bed sheets
with our own morsels -
encountered during those fearless
adventurous nights and days.
the reading lights flicker on
not because of marital aversions
but simply because that time,
those few precious hours, minutes even
are the only times we can cherish
with our respective self.

Thursday, November 22, 2007



hiragana, hiragana every where

Japanese poem Iroha-uta ("Song/poem of colours"), dates back to the 10th century and uses almost every hiragana once (except n ん).

いろはにほへと(いろ は におえど)
ちりぬるを(ちりぬる を)
わかよたれそ(わが よ たれ ぞ)
つねならむ(つね ならん)
うゐのおくやま(うい の おくやま)
けふこえて(きょう こえて)
あさきゆめみし(あさき ゆめ みじ)
ゑひもせす(よい も せず)

And here is what it means in English, as mentioned on Wikipedia:

Even colours and sweet perfume
Will eventually fade
Even our world
Is not eternal
The deep mountains of vanity
Cross them today
And superficial dreams
Shall no longer delude you.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007


impoverished love
can accomplish feats unknown
feverish passion
can create marvels
mad determination
can take you where your dreams
wait lying lazily
on soft cushions of clouds
haste can only make
those beautiful fluffs of cloud
disappear like mist rising
from nainital in January

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

adam road


darkness descends upon big angsana trees
lining the quaint and tranquil adam road
shallow roots extend on ground below
like veins on the calves of a one-time beauty
ferns, fanning out like ornate bamboo fans
protrude from gnarled trunks and branches
hardened bark peels off like dead skin
curvaceous siluhettes tremble in thin humid breeze
like the shy bride from a traditional indian home
the smell of fresh grass, dead leaves,
and sometimes, a hint of doggie poo,
left behind by lazy Filipino maids walking
their expat bosses' fancy dogs while chatting
with their part-time Bangladeshi boy-friends.
tired taxi-drivers exhale cigarette smoke
under trees, hoping no customers for next five minutes

we have walked up and down this serene road,
peaceful because it ends in a dead end
sometimes - when there is no rush for the subway -
it's been fun, and sometimes, when there is a rush
it's been not so fun...but the walk home
rush or no rush -
has always been joyful - the joy of being
with the boys, or a potential dip in blue
waters of the swimless swimming pool
or just a chaos of listening to the little one
scream chakde india, chakde india as he trots behind
the older one on the smoothened wooden tiles of
261, #02-09...

Thursday, September 20, 2007

eh, not-so-tender moments...

freshly fried tender fish
fat fingers of potato chips
lettuce, celery, oregano, thyme
a pint of erdinger, and some dips
...the afternoon passed by lazily
by the greens of singapore cricket club
indians smacking lips involuntarily
among cultured brits digging their curry
chinese socialites - males and females -
kissing the moist and warm tropical air
around the cheeks of their hosts -
sunkissed liberally, tanned slightly
but flushed profusely with the warmth
not of their local guests, but of
the land, surrounded by sea and connected
by bridges of cement not strong enough
to hold petty emotions at bay.

i sniffed the air around me
sliced the white buttery tender fish
spread a bit of tartar on the side
plucked it with a fork to savour it
but fresh as it was,
delicious as it looked
appetising as it smelled
wonderful as it was presented
i didn't enjoy it as much
as i would have,
if i had you by my side
spinning the yard of years to come...
i missed you this afternoon
my sweetheart
and can only count hours to meet you
after a long dreary day (for both of us)
at newton!

Friday, September 07, 2007

a dot of a thought

the bile is rising
and so is the temperature
the heat is on as
so far non-existent cravings
surface and burst
liked birthday balloons popped
by pricking toothpicks
mornings, afternoons, evenings,
days and nights
all pass slowly in contemplation
whiskers of emotions
tickle the inside of belly button
butterflies flutter in a flurry
and their fury subsides
equally fast
moist palms reek of friendliness
eyebrows question intended intent
nostrils flare with anticipation
lips quiver in supplication
of the unknown,
or the known that is unknown this moment
hot rays of sun beckon
cool moonlit sand dunes
chilling snowcapped peaks harbour
chilling thoughts of meltdowns
throat gurgles
heart sighs
utter chaos
what the world is really coming to?
the window opens with a startle
as the fingers start their light tap dance
on the keyboard.

oh, i see!

i see the light filtering in my brain now

i am pregnant
with a thought again
a dot
of a thought
sprouting somewhere near my gut.

Friday, August 24, 2007

good bye sentosa!


last five years have been great on sentosa! thank you all my friends and colleagues from sentosa...

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

ढाई अक्षर प्यार के
कर देते हैं लोगों को पागल
तुम और हम तो हो गए
एक दूजे के कायल



Wednesday, July 11, 2007

let's walk on

nothing can change
what fate
has in store for your and me
we can only stroll on
the road to some destination

the journey
will worth while be
if only can we
hold hands
fingers clasping fingers
palms caressing together

if i could
i would
erase all creases of worry
from your worrisome head
replace all stingy pebbles
under your toes
with soft petals of cherry blossoms

if only i could
i would
wet your parched lips
with divine wine
that makes you feel sublime
and embalm you with happiness
bursting from very pore
of my skin

we could walk on
miles after miles
my breath
like wind in your hair
and my tears of joy
to feed your love


...of good luck, lotsa love...or whatever comes your way!


Thursday, July 05, 2007

bring the green on...


i always thought i loved the wild
though not from when i was a child
i didn’t expect it to be beyond grass and trees
to me it could be only boars and bees
i thought i only wanted to be alone
other feelings aside
had no real life till i found you
walking by my side
green, yeah, you bring the green for me
you make me see the real me
you make me want to be
one with green

it was dark, it was so obscure
something that i still abhor
i was only looking for a silver lining
not something big as Sun shining
i realized i was walking on the clouds
that stormy night
tired feet, squinty eyes, but i had
you by my side
green, yeah, you bring the green for me.
you make me see the real me
you make me want to be
one with green.

bring the green on
don’t hesitate
don’t think too much and
bring any shade
of green

green is all that i want
green is where i want to be
if there is green
everything will be all right
as long as i have you by my side!

bring the green on…

Friday, June 29, 2007

some words

some words
are smile words
the same words, in circumstances different
become cry words...
...words that are agony personified
like a kindling fire
fresh from freshly chopped pine
the crackling sounds from the fireplace
refueling the ache of an ailing heart
the dog, sprawled on the familiar old rug
like a rug
raising its eyes to observe you
when you heart misses another beat.


heads usually rule men's hearts
but my brains are turning yellow
because of the fervent fever of your love.

i bathe every hour in iced water
but the heat of my groin melts the poles
green grass turns burnt amber
envy turns into jealousy turns into possessiveness

an embrace from your initiation
is smoldering but i am afraid to open my mouth.
words that often fall from my lips
are not like soft, fluffy clouds that i hope they are
neither are they velvet petals of a diamond rose
like little splinters from a burning log
my words escape like convicts breaking a prison
easing our from under the drains and trenches
only to be caught again

honey, so do you know me
after all these years?
or do i know you, completely, yet!

Friday, June 22, 2007



i have titled this piece - "day & night - water & fire"'s what a being goes through repeatedly...

Monday, June 11, 2007

sometime later

embrace you passionately?
not now, my dear, wait a while.
i must overcome my betrayals first,
was never loved but it is my turn to smile.
and I don’t want to rush so let’s just hold hands
and walk quietly the first few miles.

[from a story i am working on]

Friday, June 01, 2007

twirled and filigreed


twirling desires
are not always forbidden
the roots, they stem from
are already embedded deep
under the ground
since the time
long ago
a seed to some effect
was planted
by discreet hands.

a filigreed window
filtering with warmth from
a deep purple sunset
can open the mind to vistas
of affection; and
devotion; and
to some extent -
to twilight zone where
love exists only
in a sublime way...
fluid enough to mould
to anyone's dislike;
and like

Thursday, May 24, 2007

thinking of you


it's late afternoon
the scorching sun is cooling down
this slight breeze is flaring my heart
the sound of leaves is pulling me somewhere
far, far, far away...
i am holding you tight in my arms
you are resting your head on my shoulder

i wake up with the sound of a car
shrug up my situation with a smile

and think that...

even if i don't want

i think of you
every time i really can't
i think of you

your dark hair floats like a cloud
on my tanning sky
your moist eyes flicker like stars
lighting my nights
every night when you fall asleep
i think of you

even if i don't have to
i think of you
every time i just shouldn't
i think of you

i think of you
till my thoughts run dry
i think of you
till it makes me cry

i think of you
thinking of me
i think of you
smiling at me

still, thinking of you thinking of me...

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

view from my window


this is what i will soon see from my window,
...what do YOU see from yours?

Thursday, April 19, 2007

journey's end


a leaf,
stirred from sensual slumber of youth,
writhing in pneumatic agony
of willowing age
slowed its metabolic rate
to die
in arms of its mother and father,
flowery sisters and tiny bud brothers

the tip curled ever so slightly
and the curl, curled some more
the lush green of its skin
frayed delicately
to a deeper shade
from burnt amber
to flaming red
to fading mellow, yellow
finally to dusty brown

its soft innards
baked crisp
under harsh, hot, ruthless sun
till its brittle stem
couldn't hold itself anymore
and snapped with a soft crackle
to gently float
in a still vacuumed space
and landed face forward
on hard ground
joining scores others
waiting to be crushed
by a tiger's paw
or a deer's hoof
or a swine's snout
or, worse, a human's foot
to complete its journey