grandmother

tears ran lightly
down her crinkled cheeks
as she touched

his softly radiant face

you look just
like your father

she wiped his nose

(the size of her fingertip!)
with the frayed edge

of her cotton saree

there, there
amma's coming soon

he bawled loudly

eyes closed tightly

baby toes clenched

she put him on her lap, 

head on knee
rocking him gently

almost instantly
there was silence

a moment, mid-air

 

dark iris-filled eyes

stared at her 

carefully, suspiciously

sucking one thumb,
he reached out curiously

to touch her tears

shush

sometimes we need to hear

what we don't want to 

sometimes we need to hear

what we don't.

delhi

she stands

high and mighty

regal, royal

haat of this country

large neat roads

with important-sounding names

old-red charm

of forts and monuments

janpath, quick bargains

lush colours, against

the pillar-white

of connaught place

hauz khas

trees and brick

dim alleys

quaint shops, cafes

pigeons, peace

at jama masjid

rickshaws zip

through narrow gallis

paratha, lassi

kebabs, rabdi

metro, people

in impersonal proximity

big cars, small cars

those on foot

those on the footpath

she sustains all

she is proud

she does not embrace

but will lend herself

to open arms.

boil

bamboo for paper
silkworms for silk
leaves for tea

old for new
raw for ripe
life for life

potted plant

the thirst was killing
she writhed and screamed
pain spasmed

through her once strong veins
a little water, a drop
he walked in, she saw

him hang clothes
on the washing line
so close, she gasped

for breath, wanting,
begging in despair for
a little water, a drop

but he disappeared

and she knew she had lost

she collapsed heavily

sucked out of her,
the green of the
freshly-washed shirt

dripped, beside her
drop by drop, into
a green puddle on the floor.

presto agitato

hours and days
melt into
a single-minded trance

fingers run up and down
like mice, hiding
dodging, scurrying

in a hurry, in restless
despair, jumping
up and down, on their toes

trying to find a hole
to sink into, and disappear
without a trace

no longer

sometimes I wonder

if we've lost the dream

now that we've lived it

sometimes I wonder

if the dream awaits

in doubtful distance and time

I know for sure

that this

is not the dream

reality's getting in the way 

shoo it away,

but it stares at you, unblinking.

close

sinking into

pillow-cheek comfort
one hand

covering a ear
the other
clutching at nothing

half-drawn blanket
shut eyes, mind

and sleep takes over.

kumarakom

old man, in mundu
rowing his boat
gracefully, slowly

wooden oar
pulling gentle waters
nudging little waves

towards the shore
ripples dissolve halfway
into the backwaters

beneath coconut trees
that lean
to welcome him

into cosy green
he steps out
his bare feet

the same brown
as the wet soil
he stands on.

hyderabad

grey pigeons flock

to tombs of dusty brown

look how they lace

delicate carving of mosques

old city sepia

sharpens its

street-shiny glitter

here, have some irani chai

drive from secunderabad

of old british feel

over flyovers opening into

banjara hills

of restos, pubs

shop at glitzy malls

or stop

at general bazaar

watch from tankbund

colourful sailboats sail

in blue laziness

soaking in the sunset

welcome to pearl city

a biryani paradise

all high tech, with

zero traffic sense

when your automan

madly meanders his way through

tension kaiku re?

sit back, take lite.

moult

the old self

is wearing off

it no longer fits.

strangers

everyday faces
lock me up 

I'm hungry
for one I know

trickster

big-eyed child
honesty won't

get you too far

learn to lie
just a little bit
to find your way.

keith jarret

he fills you up
growing from
your head
down your spine
waking up
sleeping nerves
playing a little
tune on them
finding the
tips of your toes
racing through hormones
fuller and fuller
tipping lightly
this way, that way
tripping delight
let's go
bounce with bud now.

western ghats

great gushing
torrents of water
pour over the hillside
thundering, roaring

in other places
rippling streams
run crystal clear
through muddy green

fresh smell of eucalyptus
blue beds of kurinji
dark-leaved coffee
neatly pruned tea

dense forests
echo with the sounds
of crickets, frogs
shhh! listen

wild eyes
glow at night
creatures, large and small
roam their territory

the morning light
exposes some stories
tiger scat,
deer hair and bone

but the forest
constantly nourishes
new life - purple frogs
flower buds

birds, snails
a butterfly here
and other beings
well-protected from human eye

every rain replenishes
this moss underfoot
thick canopy
nurtures life overhead

you, carefully tucking away
your treasures
like a lady would
money in her saree-blouse

you, the mother
giving, yet
guarding in your embrace,
breathing, awake.

6089

the train slows down

pulling into

katpadi station

look, brahmapuram

watch from the window

VIT, lit up at night

in that unavoidable

silencing awe

girls walking back

to C, D, E blocks

with late slips

shadows under the shades

men's hostels

twin buildings

little squares glow

digital-like

a story living

in each light

but a story

different from yours.

chennai

brown gunny bags
piled on the platform
emanate a strong,
humid smell of fish

auto annas
dark, suspicous faces
and prices, you timidly say
yevalo?

city of bargains
saravana bhavans
roundtanas
and crowded subways

take the train
to ooru suthufy
cramped sweaty bodies
and the relief of footboard-breeze

lighthouse beach
sand in between toes
fisherman, burger man
boy with a monkey

old british houses
stand beside urban aparments
wide roads, lined with
a variety of vendors

colleges teeming with activity,
jro, saarang
students shopping at spencer's
and landmark, four!

home to kalakshetra,
music academy
the hindu
and nalli's

pondy bazaar,
glittering, reflecting the heat
filter coffee
in tumbler and dabarah

busy, colourful
dendritic streets converge
into mount road
the spine

the city, actually,
a large, peaceful village
a melting pot
in the sweltering heat.

unwant

offer me no comfort

I'm afraid

I might start seeking it

bangalore

tree-shadowed roads
quiet cafes
happy weather
spring in a step

weekend bangalorians
on brigade road
buying earrings, chappals
bags, belts

late night cars
hitting the high note
roadside bars,
dim dingy pubs

wafts of laughter
draughts of beer
artistes, visiting cards
80s rock

koshy's coffee
blossom's books
mtr's rava idli
radio indigo

majestic bustling
with incoming
and outgoing life

the city
being a city
in spurts of energy
breaking vibrantly through
its sleepy, easy tone.

street rain

saree-rag lady
child on her hip
through the car window
stone-faced man looks away

glistening tar
open drains
a lone wet chappal
in the gutter

a woman curses
as a bike
cuts through the puddle
muck-white salwar

under the bus stop
strangers huddle together
in overlapping
shadow-patterns

look here,
mud-covered tyre
and there,
newspaper print leaks

street rain,
revealing, concealing
filling up, washing away
the secrets of the city.

rule

half the battle won

is knowing

what to say

where, and when

seeking silence

words,
you take away
too much

before and after
leaving regret,
uncertainty and unrest

here's the door
go, find
someone else's speech

flow

half-open window
morning calls
for a smoke

he sits close
to the mattress
slightly cold floor

speakers,
quietly watch
these four-walled days 

he lights another
life,
in no hurry.

morning, broken

breaking apologies 

in exhaustion 

too tired

yet burning

to seek comfort

afternoon, 

bone-crunching pain,

what are you worth?

cafe

they came
once every week
the same table
the same orders

neither of them
were strikingly attractive
he noticed
yet they were pretty

their voices grew familiar
as they'd laugh
and sometimes
talk in low voices

he'd get to work
cheerily, every thursday
making small talk
with customers

hoping that
nobody would take their table
and the clock would
bring them in, he'd beam

but one evening,
an hour, two
and a couple
made themselves comfortable

he stood at a distance
in cold politeness
taking their orders
sulkily.

bitter

you're looking
at that
which didn't happen
and saying
that it
wasn't meant to be
how do you know
if you haven't seen otherwise?

what is your fatalism
but a comfortable excuse?

earth

wet mud
trampled leaves
a collage of footprints

by the side
bright yellow
five curly petals

washed happy
little flower
smiles from the soil

weary

heavy eyelids
aching heels
tired thoughts
scurrying like mice
in all directions

so tired
like paul once was
distracted half-sleep

soft dark room
crawl into the double-bed
prayer of thanks
large pillows embrace
slip into quiet.

steady voice
ready, wide grin
he knows
every word he sings

effortlessly into the mic
loving those
thumb-funky chords
as much as we do

casual flow-lines
soul running through
his veins,
guitar strings

extraordinary person
i've quietly read,
observed,

and admired
from a distance
and for long

broad-smiled hello
genuine warmth
that makes one
instantly connect

simple man.

time

1 am
2 am
3 am
and so on

abysmal

I've found
that it's quite true

sometimes
there isn't anybody

so burn your
sparkling optimism

lunch

dhaba express
across the road
cane chairs, chombus
egg curry, rajma and rice

lets go no?

roadside

blue bandi
lime juice man
sits empty, ablaze

contemplating
putting up
a bisleri water sign

next to him
brown backed boy
too hot
to wear skin

holds glasses
to deliver to those
wanting steaming hot chai

on the hottest
of hottest summer days.

play

poke harder
and I shall
dig deeper

but you could
keep trying.

dance

look, how you dance
in a barefooted trance
tripping, spilling

swaying,
guitars going mad,
lightning rhythm

swirl, twirl
light as air
hand in his, and his

foot tapping
head nodding, bobbing
up and down

stepping in
to the groove, shine
red cheeked laughter

tense

they met
over and over again
desperately trying
to feel
the way they used to

they knew
it wasn't working
who goes first?

couple

on the terrace
they sit quietly
sharing a joint

black hands
holding hers
talking softly

tripping
trailing off
into a constellation

breaking into
a tune
now and then

unknown to everyone.
when you're young
there's no fear.

step

let it stay
this way
wait,
this is just right

let not
the anonymity
melt into familiarity
too quickly

secret

I'd rather
not talk
I'm holding it
so carefully

what if I spill?
then it will
no longer
belong to me

disquiet

late night darkness
post-dinner
empty, still

i can hear
drunken murmurs
from down the street

i can hear
the neighbour's
phone ring

i can hear
the drip in the
bathroom, steady

as constant
as the rhythmic whir
of the fan

i can hear
the trees, restless
longing for movement

i can hear
my heart beat
in my head

i drown myself
loudly
in the music

sick

ache,
squeezing
like a python

engulfing
gnawing at the insides
eating away

matter of time

it took up
so much energy, yet
we didn't burn out

we just put
it all aside
and it's piled up now

look,
questions, answers
that are waiting

to undo this balance
that we're pretending
to have achieved.

oh yes?

promises,
emotions,
decisions

all of you
are governed
by circumstances

that revolve
around you
sneering

at your naivete
to have believed
in constancy

disproving
the existence
of a
no matter what.

long nights

heavy head
morning mirror
toothbrush foam

hello,
sleep-swollen eyes
force yourselves open

conversation

this voice, shushed
I hope
you can't hear it

but it has spoken
to you
in my head

so many times
that I feel
you know already

and I wait
for your response
in careful, subdued anticipation

just for
the sake of the game
inwardly, I already know.

renewal

my neck hurts
now let me
arrange these pillows
and settle down nicely
on the bed
sleep and rest
for a month


then I'll get up
and run around the world.

stop
and listen
to all the noise
mixing sharp,
bright colours
into long exposure times

silence creeps alongside
in large, unseen
rubber-boot strides
till it decides
to take over
and make itself heard.

hostel

Ten o clock
the warden’s
on her rounds
silence, doors shut
till she disappears

and then, sniff
I smell maggi
Somebody knocks
at our door
Hey, do you have
any new movies?

Next door neighbour
walks in, looking about
in dismay
I haven’t even started
writing lab record!
gimme yours na?

the rest of us
pick a movie to watch
some of us
distractedly messaging
free sms - student pack

a phone rings,
and her face lights up
as she walks out
the movie’s over
and after post movie analysis
we finally retire to bed

four am
trip to the washroom
a rat darts across the floor
brushing past my feet
and I shudder
suppressing a scream

at the mirror
a girl, in green face mask
and henna hair
smiles and says hi
witch! (who is she?)

a big cricket
sits near the toilet
threatening to jump
at me anytime
I pray
and hurriedly exit

peeping into
an open window
on the way back
she’s at her desk,
table-lamp
still writing record

girl on the phone
now sits against
the corridor wall
talking in a low voice
tearful, boy-fights

this hostel
never sleeps
I enter my room
climb up my bunk bed
carefully, my room-mate’s
a light sleeper

but she wakes up
ei you know what!
I saw a rat!
we talk sleepily
it’s dawn now
alarms start ringing

rows of buckets
bathroom queues
skipping breakfast
running to class
everyday stories.

conviction

there's really
no need
to say much

love
works its wonders
silently.

being the man

swiftly you take matters
into your own hands
with natural efficiency

straight backbone
and finely cut features
pleasing, yet almost harsh

there's a roughness
surging through
your spirit

in defense,
in pride,
in strength

quickly shaken
but quicker to hide
displaying the inaccessible

carelessly concealed
and one can
quietly observe

the shades of a boy,
so striking,
in you.

company

I am myself
when I'm alone
but I need you
with me
to be the myself
that I like better.

long distance call

I had
only the usual
irrelevant updates

I did this
and I did that
and then I went here
and then I went there

what did you do?
and you say
'nothing much'

but I like
to hear you listen
to hear your low voice,
warm coffee mug

I like saving
the spaces
for later recall

and then
sometimes I feel
I can touch the intangible

checking

oh horror, horror
you found an error
I stared
how did two
become a five?

I squirmed
and wanted to
melt away
but I had
to sit and

brave through
another two hours
then I ran away
and hid face
for the rest of the day.

spirit

this one
is not just some
intangible wispy mist

it has volume
direction
life

it has muscle
power
energy

it's elastic
it's tough
poke, prod

and it will
bounce back
into shape

made of
stronger stuff,
this full-bodied soul.

choice

reason stumbles
blindly over emotion
logical fights illogical,

which,
stubborn and miserable,
refuses to budge

but sometimes
you have to pick
this or that

and do what you have to
there really is
no middle path.

make up, made up

she,
short skirts
high heeled attitude

plastic waxed face
with pencil eyebrows
straightened hair

that once fell
in admirable curls
but she wanted to look

perfect in the photos
she knew that
she musnt pout

but turn on
that practised
half-dreamy smile

and look
unperturbed
in the plunging neckline

and aim
the dark black eyes
straight into the camera

she also knew
what men liked more
not the drunk,

skin-showing nightbird
but this girl.
So with bindi and chappal

she wore
her well-prepared
simple look for today.

mojo

you little round
bundle of fur
unbelievably soft

small, fragile boned
unbound energy
excited running about
with a slight limp

you love to play
unguarded curiosity
sniffing at everybody's feet

licking everything
on the floor
following strangers
faithfully at heel

but at nights
you creep in gladly
inside his shirt

find a nice warm spot
and curl up there
like an
affectionate child

and both sleep in peace
boy and pet
pet and boy.

nostalgia

songs,
like houses
I've lived in

sunny days
spent colouring
black and white notes

I've moved out
packing cartons
shifting to another block

leaving
a few things behind
every time

they lie forgotten
collecting dust
in some hidden corner

I go back
once in a while
to pick them up

and sing along
renewing
cobweb covered emotions.

break up

halve a whole
to create
two strangers

burn down
each others
lucid memories

erase a life
we dont dare
to remember

shovel in the years
cover it up
with sand

and you plant seeds
but they'll never grow
the soil's too dry,barren

so this is where
it all ends
you called it love

this joke,
haha.

(written in 2008)

haji lane

narrow alley
crayon graffiti
scrawled, smudged
on the walls

two boys sit
in a corner
yellow light
with guitars

playing a bluesy riff
smoking, 8 pm
a passing cat
stopped to listen

retaurants, pink
aladdin and
his magic cafe
jeannie-type girls invite

hookahs,
mezze platters
welcome to istanbul!
a man pops up out of nowhere

boutiques in a row
hip youngster bling
dresses, bags,
the funky paper shop

two hours later
we pass by
the same duo
sitting at the corner

smoking, wandering about
the same riff,
the cat curled up
at their side.

purpose

in spite of
knowing you so well
I poked and prodded
and provoked

to get words
that I knew
I could hold
against you

I wanted
to hurt you
because I was hurt

if I have succeeded
I shamefacedly say sorry
if I haven't
I do the same.

he was rather pleased
in this new place
this small town

where nobody knew him
it was quiet
it was just right

now he wouldn't have
to talk business
with endless clients

over fancy dinners
and wine
(by then he had learnt

the trick to sealing deals)
he wouldn't have to
hang out with

leching groups of friends
over the weekends
at bars where

fifteen year old girls
smoked in style
and laughed loudly

he had all those scenes
though, in charcoal
his well-kept secret

long nights,
sketch after sketch
with a gripping fervour

his resignation
was not sudden
but carefully planned

he had thought
about it for long
he had all the material

he was full of ideas
and had saved enough
to set up this studio

with a pottalam
by his side
he sat at his desk
and started working.

pigeon

you thing of beauty

on my window sill

strutting about

on your skinny pink legs

red iris,

shiny neck,

that cere, like a

proud nose stud

you catch me looking

and grace a side profile view,

a half-smile

like a shy indian bride

i put out my hand

to spread some grain

and you (darpok!),

show interrupted,

fly off above

to the opposite building's sill,

watching curiously

from a safe distance

what now?

do you expect me

to say 'ao ao'

like he did in ddlj?

come and eat

whenever you want,

silly bird.

Belief

I don't know enough
to believe
but I don't know enough
to disbelieve either

so let's just be
on the safer side.

moment

in an instant
I saw that
you felt the same way

look away now,
let it go
quietly

let it slip away
lightly, floating,
disappearing

leaving only
its memory
heavy, haunting.

edit 1

oh, look!
another manuscript
on the table

tucking into it
gleefully
with pencil, eraser

colourful pens
circling, marking
rewriting

chuckling
at delightful mistakes
and misprints

(look, he forgot
the ni
in organism!)

frowning
over endless
pages of proofs

learning
to pick words
and mind those em dashes.

piano class

dimly lit rooms
with ancient
convent windows

diamond peepholes
in the walls
dust-light streaming

pianos,
kawai, yamaha,
pearl river

gleaming new
in the exam-room
shiny pedals

while others
in the adjacent rooms
chipped keys

slightly out of tune
till mathew
pays his visit

dark brown wood
smelling of
years ago

of songs,
compositions, that many
hands have played

with fingers,
little, big
graceful, clumsy

of moods, emotions
that have sunk into them
over the decades

of sombre chords,
lively melodies
legatos, staccatos

faithful, they stand
silent,
waiting.

attender

grumpy morning
I open the office door
thinking of
all the pending work

'good morning maydum!'
a voice rings out

he beams
in his
checked shirt,
polished shoes

it's impossible
not to smile back.

preachy

if you want to give
then give
of yourself

if you dont
then you might as well
be a recluse

but just
dont get stuck
in between the two

it is all about
giving
and taking

not about
giving
and taking back.

continuity

you said
let's start
all over again

but there is
no such thing

because the past
forms this present
even if you don't
want it to.