Sunday, January 24, 2010

This Winter in my City

I live in a heartless summer-town,

Of sultry chills and wintry moons

Blanketing secrets in its slothful

Wakeful, sparkly silver hues…

I see you down the half-bridge,

Drained of the last speck of afternoon shine.

The sun is secure beneath the walls

Of bricks and buildings and you die..

To come to life in the shadows

Of my bed inside my quilt...late at night.

I sleep with the trees,

As they shall be…

Witness to dry winter kisses,

I have failed many hearts

They call me lucky

And that I’m fooled or simply blessed.

But I am no labor in respite

Of rain-drawn wind of hill-stations,

I am no humor looking for

A laugh to moist my sleepy eyes…

Leave me here and take me in

Curled in the tattered pillows of my long,slow nights

Make me your burnt and buried beautiful girl,

Your one-legged armor-less soldier

Make me...

Make me your winter's spring-butterfly.

Saturday, January 23, 2010


Circles of glass in the floor,

I have fish-eye views of not much more;

I prop myself up on my two elbows

And cork my vision, unscrew my nose.

There is not much more to see

More in this pit hole.

If you are trapped, I am too

But I’m not thinking on my own.

On my own, without a torch,

With no blind-man’s third eye at hand

You’re on your own, all alone

Grasping for hold on melting slow-sand…

My hand is near, but your lone thoughts steer,

You away and your beliefs grimly hear

Only hollows in the dislodged rocks…

It is dark here, and airless…

But I fear, my only fear….

That someday you might realize

That I was there at your side…

Feeling your last breath trickling away…

Because I’m standing on the circles of glass…

So you might breathe as they will break…

So we can both breath…

Together, breathe…

Even if for just one second.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Random thoughts about you 2

I laughed a lot today.Today I literally understood what 'getting a stitch in the side' means.Its a bittersweet feeling...mostly sweet,though.
I laughed and didn't care if my teeth weren't perfect...or if the sound of my laughter didnt tingle like windchimes each time...or if the joke was even worth laughing so much over!
I met some of my oldest in particular,I go back with to nursery but hadn't heard from since class 9.
So,yes,I was hysterical.
Can't even remember the last time I was so hysterical...!
Suddenly the world deems as a much more interesting place...a haven crawling with the essence of curiosity and serendipity...and even love.
I feel 15 again...burning with an enhanced and long-forgotten lust for everything.The Howrah bridge,Stephen Hawking and Steven King,recyclable note-pads,3 o'clock sky hues,shapes in mosaic floors...even you...

With love,
Everyone's Me.

Homesick Baby

There was a time….

There was a time when I blinked more times in the sun

But tilted my head upwards to bask in the omniscient heat rays,

Apathetic to the darkening tan in the cells of my fa├žade…

A time when the sun and nobody else endeavored to darken this face…

There was a time…

There was a time when I ate powdered milk out of cupped hands,

Hid plastic gem-stones in mud-sands

And hid in seamless shadows thinking they could hide my shimmering little frame…

A time when no shadow in the world could hide this little frame…

There was a time…

There was a time when I was afraid of shapes in the night,

Would cringe from blasts of wind through the trees

And cling to Ma’s chest thinking there was a lock where our skins would meet…

A time when no one tried to cleave me from my imaginary locks…

There was a time…

There was a time when I lied about homework,

Bland food and how the school-skirt got wet

And prayed to god, I never understood, to let me redeem my fate…

A time when lies were paler than white and my fate was god-redeemed…

There was a time…

There was a time when I felt guilty about not liking grandma’s cooking,

About 13 seconds of dirty thoughts at thirteen,

About wanting any new toy or clothe, and sneakily using Ma’s nail-polish,

A time that was guilty of oblivion to the secrets of guilt’s consent…

There was a time…

There was a time when the rains would make me shiver much more,

But made me laugh much louder and longer,

When I lived each day for the night

And the two hours of lying awake

In bed---a child insomniac,

When I had fewer friends to think about and no lovers at all…

A time when my mind was clearer than the rain and I could love much much more…

There was a time…

A song, a ghost, a crime to my present,

A time when I was too short to open doors…

Yet somehow always found them wide open …

A time when I was good,

I had nothing to begrudge…

A time when I was easily homesick...

But funny how it was never quite this much…


Tuesday, January 5, 2010

5/01/2010; Status---Connecting Dots.

You came, we came, I lied, you left, I left, we left.

And ‘left’ can never be set right.

You discovered the truth, I panicked, I blushed, you understood, we understood.

‘Understood’ stands over us now. Tall exclamation points here and there.

I lied again.And again. And again. You overlooked…

‘Overlook’ still looks down upon us.Dotted with dots and dots and dots…everywhere.

I connect them.Like fireflies in the sky.And stars in the backyard.

Like fireflies and stars.And you now.

I can see you in the dark, squint an eye, reach out in my mind, but remain satisfied with only connecting the little points in the sky or backyard where you all are.The little points in my life where you were.Where you all were…the twinkling points of light.

So connecting dots now.

Skipping points and connecting all over again.

And Over.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Two Millenia and One Decade

Sceneries whip by

A deserted lore,

A two-lover whore

Of undesired memories…

Slink in the dark depths

Of her sweet-smelling hair

And she is sanguine

Knowing it’s a past affair.

Her devoted mind

Is always nostalgic,

Of broken bricks

In the wall of memories…

That moistens her throat

On sultry days

Leaves her thirsty,

Knowing it’s a new decade.

Her heart does throb,

Her ears are vigilant,

Her wrists do tingle

With the abated breathe…

For new memories

Her body does pine.

Her past is in the past,

And everything of hers…

Everything she was…

Is now a feisty temptress,

A chaste semblance

Of a new time.

Her sweet-smelling hair

Singes in the chemical fire…

And her breathless voice

Slows down to a noise,

Just a noise now…

And her dreams crash

Upon a new asphalt road

And cobwebs of concrete

Where she’s lost in the crowd…

And picked up again.

By a hand in the subway,

A hand that brushes away

A singed lock

Of her sweet-smelling hair…

Casting the shadow of a memory,

A memory burnt to ashes with the bricks;

A memory born again to her lustful embrace

In the light of her disgruntled desires and dreams,

And she with her singed hair and broken voice

Feels beautiful yet again.

Knowing it’s a new affair…

Knowing its not the old year…

Knowing its not the same here