Sunday, November 30, 2008

Mumbai---Not a poem

My brother was on that step, tying his shoe-laces,
My sister was in that kitchen washing the dishes,
My father was reading the papers in that maple chair,
My mother was cradling the baby in her hotel bed,
My soul-mate was playing a guitar on that stage,
I was home staring at the TV, watching them, all of them.
The unidentified corpses…and the identified…
All blasphemic, anonymous losses.
Anonymous paradox, anonymous stings.
The fire is gone, but they are yet burning…
And the rage, and the hatred,
And the love and the faith.
And it all comes back to the top of the tree
When a branch burns, it inflames other trees.
The trunk remains to remind all of us this---
There’s nothing more to let down,
There are only those to be down with.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Raincoat- The Song

Just when it seems like the rain’s been on my shed all day,
It strikes the roof at once and trickles slowly down the walls…
And awakens the mud-buried secrets of the talkative earth
As it breathes a misty sound on my window, I hear it all…

And I can’t wait…..
For it to join the hustle,
And I can’t wait…
For it to hit a puddle,
To knock on its door and jump back like it’s afraid,
But slowly after many a while, dissolve…
In this raincoat of the world.

Your lips have been so dry; it tries to divide your mind,
Your thoughts swim clearly under the frozen lake….
Hollow creek and Eden seems fairly much closer
Than the horizon I chase all day, for just your sakes…

So I can’t take….
What you have for me, my heart---
So I can’t take….
It belongs to nobody, my pulse---
What is your life but a piece of the plan that life must be.
But slowly after many a while, it makes sense…
We’re the raincoat of a big mess.

But look here I am standing, letting this rain shape on me.
Now when I reach out, you will see the horizon lean on me
Along with the blur of blurred paint
In the many raincoats of rain….