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.