Haiku: Red

water on petals
pearl upon a bleeding heart
throbbing song of spring

Haiku series: Blue

flows out like lifeblood

a languid soul spilling out

a pool of desires

like a lotus bud

eagerly waiting to bloom

tenderly restless

dreams forgotten

lost in a chaos of voices

drowning my own

caught in a deluge
I'm losing sight of the shore
half wishing to drown

rainfall upon leaves

soft footfalls on wet pavements

silence in my soul

... a friend says, blue is the colour of December.
  
  ... "It's blue. Blue is the colour of love." -Disco Pigs

For Pt. Ravi Shankar

dragonflies dancing

sitar notes sparkling like water

soundtrack of our lives

Winter in Delhi

A cold rainy day.
No thunderous drama in the sky
Just pale grey clouds weeping,
Moaning as winter creeps into
My rain soaked soul.

Golden autumn sun

Playing on my eyelashes

Gone in a moment

Sweet songs floating in

Speak to me of tender love

Linger in silence.

Have you been writing?

You ask me

If I've been writing.

Well, kind of.

What do you do

When something is, so to say,

At the tip of your pen?

You write.

You write everything but that.

You search for it

In every line,

Every gap, every curve,

Every comma, every period.

They say,

Life is what happens

When you plan other things.

If that is true,

Then yes, I am writing.

Well, kind of.

Traces

It was lying there.
Hiding among the pages
Of an old xerox copy,
A dusty yellow envelope.

How is it possible?
Hadn't I rummaged every corner
Of every trunk, every drawer?
Box of gifts
Gloriously flung into the garbage dump;
Green coffee mug
Deliberately smashed to smithereens
On my hostel floor;
Black pullover
Deliciously cut up into pieces
So no one would have to wear it again;
Every tiny little trinket
Hunted down, mutilated, destroyed.
And now this.

Remove every trace.
That's what she said.
Remove every trace
And all will be well again.

So I set it on fire.
One page at a time.
I watched it burn
Till the red embers turned black.
Like they do in the movies.
A proper ceremony.
A trace removing ceremony,
With maudlin violins
As background music.

One more trace removed.
So how many more to go
Till all is well again?

Taking a Stand

One of my favourite expressions is "l'esprit d'escalier" or "staircase wit", obviously because I happen to be an excellent example of this kind of wit. Except that in my case, that wonderful comeback doesn't always come at the bottom of the stairs, but waits till years have passed by and everyone is on the verge of forgetting that conversation. The good thing is that it often comes to me in the form of poetry. So here is another instance of my absolutely sparkling staircase wit! Or rather, the-decade-after wit.


You tell me
That I'm weak
And so I can't be yours.
I've never learned
To take a stand
And so I can't be yours.
A ready-made feminist:
That's what you want.
Ready-made and fitted
To suit your demands.

I know I'm not the one
You are looking for.
Not quite a feminist,
And far from ready-made
Or well-fitted
To take ready-made stands
On your behalf.
No, no, that's not me.
A bit unsure and lost,
Groping around,
Forever searching
For a firm footing,
And forever digging
At its very foundations.
That's more like me.
Yes, I know I can't be yours.

You tell me
That I'm weak
And I can't take a stand.
You tell me
That I'll learn, but for now,
I just don't make the cut.
But what would you do
If I finally learnt
How to throw it all away,
And took a stand
Pointing my finger at you?

Procrastination

I know.
At the core
Of all this commotion
There is silence.
Silence that soothes
As soft as moonlight
Silence that scorches
As hard as the desert sun.
It scares me.
So I skim at the surface,
Splashing around with the waves
Adding to the clamour,
Crowding my brain
With a cacophony of voices.
But how long?

Like a dewdrop

Falling soft and silent

As someone drifts

Into the world of dreams,

I whisper

Into the dark night

Unseen, unheard.

Invigilators and examinees

There,

Where the silence
Is earth-shattering,

With the scratchings

Of your scrawling pens,

With a commotion of voices

Inside brains

Cluttered
With last night’s crammings,

There,

We will meet

At the appointed hour
Like enemies
On two sides
Of a dusty old desk—

My tryst with eternal boredom!

Transient light

Bit by bit,

The dancing flames

Grow dim

As an evening lit up

By a million sparks

Comes to an end.

An evening

When a million homes

Came alive,

United

As one vast expanse

Of sparkling light

Under a cold, misty

Rumbling November sky.

Now, as the dying flame

Sucks dry every pore

Of the darkening lamp,

Time surrounds me

And swallows me

Into it’s darkest depths,

Like a sparkling moment

Of transient light.

Set me free

There’s anger in the wind today

Out there, the world is red with rage

And yet an icy numbness kills
Each remnant of my dying soul

‘cause where I live, there’s emptiness

Bricked up with walls of silences


Break this wall of silences

And let this anger fall on me

Twist my heart, break my soul

Let this anger set me free


Trees are lashing at the skies

The skies are crying angry tears

But not a teardrop in my eye

Reveals my aching soul within

‘cause where I live, there’s emptiness

Bricked up with walls of silences


Break this wall of silences

And let this sorrow rain on me

Burn my eyes with salty tears

Let this sorrow set me free

I don't want to know

Is that Orion?
Smiling down at me

As I sit sighing

Into the dark night?

Or is it just me reading signs

Where none exist?
I don't want to know.

And the other day,

Did the sun really wink at me,

Peeping out of cottony clouds

As I smiled up at the sky?

Or was it just my impish mind

Pulling a prank on me?
I really don't want to know.

Just for once,

Leave me alone

With tales I have woven

Out of nothingness.

Just once, this once,

I don’t want to know.

Waiting.

Waiting.
I am waiting
For the sun to rise.

The world is asleep.
And here I am
Walking.
To and fro.
To and fro.

Waiting.
For the sun to rise.
For life to take over
And set me free.

Oasis

There is sunshine in my eyes,

There is music in my soul,

And I have nothing more to ask for.

Today, I have found an oasis

In the heart of a burning desert.


I close my eyes and wonder,
Will the music fade away?
But does that really matter so much?
'cause today, I have found an oasis
In the heart of a burning desert.


I will not think
Of yesterday or tomorrow.
Does it really matter at all?
Today, I will soak it all in,
With every pore of my being.
Here, in the oasis that lies
In the heart of a burning desert.

Untitled

The long lost music

Danced back into my life

Softly, but surely.

My cocoon of silence peeled open

In a single moment of beauty.

A bad, bad haiku written with a smile!

Strumming a guitar

Is quite like painting a wall!

Swish swish, I strum away!

sorrow

sparkling golden dust

came swirling down to settle

upon my sunny doorstep

and salty tears pricked my eyes

as the darkness loomed within

Not tonight.

No, I can't sleep.
Not tonight.
Not when the sweet silence
Brushes against my ears
Like a soft breeze,
Not when my droopy eyes
Fill my lazy mind
With hazy waking dreams.
No, I can't sleep.
No, not tonight.