the flash of a starlit night in corbett

once there was a road that led to the forest
where you and i often walked hand in hand
under the starlit night
and the canopies of teak trees
fringed with fireflies

shadows cast by vegetation
swayed like larger than life carnivores
stripes of moonlight
resembled tigers prowling for vegetating prey
and we held each others hands even tighter than before

those were the days
and those days will be back again soon

i long, as i am sure, do you
to kill time, to forage for things to do -
we still forage - but it would be different doing it there
it would not be boring to get bored in the wild
and i would love to hear you complain about the weather

too hot in summer, in winters too cold
too wet in the monsoon, the autumn barrenness too bold
too much light in days, too little to see in the dark
too much dirt, too much daze
just excessive love and too many friends

we will love excessively
we will fight some more
but we will walk under the stars of fireflies
holding hand till knuckles turn white
and we shiver with fright of tigers and cold

come let's get ready
let's pack and be on the way...
...soon

i see yellow, do you?

do you see yellow?
or do you notice purple?
is it black that you like?
or does the grey attract you?


i don't know what it takes
to be in a state of mind
that doesn't want to, any longer,
differentiate between the lines, or the colours

i don't know but i mind
that i am not in the caress of the infinite
nor in the sweet embrace of the nothingness
that not many seem to desire any more

cut the chase, o lord of cipher
cut the chase
rotting in hell am i not blessed by you
cut the chase, extend the embrace

towards happiness

capitulated,
i have absolutely
into the realm
of nothingness

trying
not expecting
not anticipating, and
not desiring
never seemed as difficult
since i started trying to
not expect
not anticipate, and
not desire

perhaps
someone
higher up
controlling
destinies
doesn’t want me to stop
expecting
anticipating, and
desiring

if only i could
it would
be so easy
to live
in peace
and happiness

memory

burnt fingers of yours
try so hard not to singe again

though i am no burning flame
hot wax can be painful
especially if not careful, your touch

dreams are made of nightmares
you have seen so many times
that you don’t get scared anymore
of the horror you think you can control

life ambles by way too soon, and you realise
the glass is not filled with wine
the wicker rocking chair has lost its rock
the book your read is read before
and, the hand you hold is a memory that still clings

procreation

we loved with love
we loved with passion
now i see you in him
and you, me.

he is you in the beads of sweat on his nose
he is me in his unarticulated gait
he is you in the melting butter subtle fragrance
he is me in his "umms" and "ah na"s

no longer we hanker for the last piece of your mango puddings
no longer we yearn for "mind your language"
have we no time and energy to indulge?
ask the cookie monster below and perhaps you will know!


Will you fit in my shoes soon?

affectionately afflicted

laughter seems inadequate
to convey the happiness
i feel being with you

words are not of essence
for the feelings evoked
in my heart for your love

gratitude towards your mother
for bringing you to world
can never be enough to justify

but is silence enough communication
to bind us infinitely?
i think it is – more or less

withering years will extract
every ounce of affection and affliction
i have in reserve for you…

pillow talk

tufts of feather fall
and make my shoulders heave with pain
eyes nibbling at the potential desire
lying next to me
bring my mildewed blood
to a boil, nearly!

rasp anguish
uncoils
and nostrils flare in mock anger
but the satiny strain
on your forehead gives it all away

i can see through
not so tightly shut eyes
that you are awake
lumbered with similar thoughts of
a crisp embrace
that will make us drift afar, together

is that really you...or just another dream

i was not awake, was i,
was there only the whir of air-conditioner
breaking the sound of your soft breathing,
the rustle of bed sheets,
the sound of a sleepy hand subconsciously wiping
slowly dripping saliva off your parted mouth,
slender nape trembling in a motionless manner.

did i imagine a smile on your face,
or did you forget me in your blissful rest,
no coating of man made beauty on the face,
no strokes of red on the cheek,
no arrangements of strands so straight,
no bristles of eyelashes crumbling down,
all i saw was a lush vine draped on my pillow
au naturel, just as nature desired.

spread your tendrils
all over me,
entrap me with your arms forever
so my bed remains my garden
and your bosom,
my lovely rose, and Queen of the Night!

For better or for verse...

if you blink slowly, you will know life is but a poem in motion. sometimes the words just whiz past you like a bullet and at times, every wrinkled, autumn brown dry leaf falls down so slowly that the heart aches with the touchdown. and so it goes...for better or for verse!