Sunday, September 6, 2009


The disparaging glare of the midday sun,
The tired yawns of midnight moon
And the coveted squirming through
Overcrowded,overhustled,overwhelmed rooms...
My room in my home,in my kolkata.
3 and they are still awake
Feigning sleep,some sleeplessness...
Humming,or smoking,or musing
Out the windows and windows break away
Flying across terraces,visiting each other...
My lovers,my soulmates of my kolkata.
Morning weighs heavy down on us,
Blanketing the smell of last night's burnt rain.
Obliging reminders,slower cellphones---
Hello,my ironies and my cynical friends,
Will my feet catch in a pothole
Or will a rickshaw curse at me again?
And will they make me smile again...?
At my mirages, my kolkata?
Waiting to escape your clutches for one day...
Waiting to hear your thoughts break surface...
Waiting to clot, and to fade...
Death by the tea-stall and eroded streets of accidents...
I pray that you survive that day.