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.

rough

thin hard lines form
on your face, I wonder
why I havent
noticed them before

swearing,
you clench your fists
I look closely
for the sensitivity

the warmth I knew
in you, but it was
hidden
put away for later

I did not
recognize you then
wounded ego,
ready to fight

I remember
my shock,
watching you
as you lunged forward

at the other guy
but now I know
that all angry men
are the same.

sad

maybe
you're being
too hard on me

I want
to go back.

scene

outside the gates
the usual bunch
hangs around
the sutta shop

beside the ganna juice shop
which also sells lime juice,
orange juice,
any colour juice

at the bus stop
an old man squats
in his lungi,
content with his beedi

and slow motion life
watching amusedly
a gaggle of girls
bargain with an auto anna

as a boy
does the same
near the dhaba
for his weekly stash

inside the dhaba,
groups of students
crowd, waiting for
place to sit

a small boy
smart, bright-eyed
wipes the plastic
adding yet another layer

takes orders,
runs about, delivers,
ears open to
the daily college gossip

and conversations,
sprinkled with
a distinctive tadka
across all tables.

gloat

hurt,
chasing me
with tentacle arms

ready
to engulf, grinning
like a pirate

but today,
I'm a squid too
dodging, hiding

there's my
murky ink
isnt it misleading?

woohoo.

moving on

it rained,
noisy streams
merged into

a deluge,
leaving our world
drenched in memories

that fulfill,
pull, cling
and disturb

but summer came
in yellow beams
evaporating them

one by one,
slowly, deliberately
into

a change of season
sun-washed
starting afresh.

piano

trying
to push away
this jittery feeling

trying
to be firm
and rooted

trying
to be invincible
and indifferent

trying
to act
like i don't care

trying
not to be hurt
pretending

trying
to be
like you

trying
not to face
these irrational thoughts

black
and white chords,
only you can take me away.

there's something
in your emails
so full-bodied,
and put down neatly
into paragraphs,

that makes me feel
all warm inside
as I scan through
your thoughts,
honest

and its magical
that once a connection
is found
the screen of the internet
doesnt seem to matter

or is it
the comfort
of this is screen
that maintains
the flow

that allows
these insiders
to be let out
through casual lines
I dont know

but now, let me
read you
and sit down to
draft out my response

we're talking.

gone

I make one move
and its misunderstood
another,
and that is lost too

how ironical
after all these years
we find that
we dont know each other

this is beyond
my comprehension
I shall retreat now.

show me!
she cried,
running after him

on her short,
chubby legs
in her pink frock

come n get it,
he laughed,
holding up his fist

his eyes,
half-mischievous,
half-mocking

she stumbled
over the sands
excitedly

as fast
as she could
chasing him in circles

till she tripped
over an
unfinished castle

and fell flat,
on the wet mud
he turned

she sat up
and howled
five-year old baby

he, suddenly quiet
and bewildered
sat beside her

and held out
his empty palm.

live

band one on stage,
with lights, amps,
shiny metal

lightning riffs
powerful vocals
high energy audience
black t shirts, \m/s

happy-drunk,
springed feet,
screaming along in
whiskey drowned harmony

head bangers
up in front,
already gone,
losing synchrony

musicians, keen
nodding along,
judging, with eyes
and ears open

in between acts,
comments, murmurs
stray whoops
college cheers

after the show,
groups sitting
in a circle,
on the grass

a bunch of voices,
and an acoustic guitar
a few songs, a few laughs
good times.

square

they sang
all those soulful songs
about asking no questions
and telling no lies

but thats not
how it works
here,
with me

so look me
in the eye
and tell me
whats going on

and believe me,
I'm not even
going to flinch
I'm prepared.

far away

foreign land,
in shades of
grey, blue and brown

wide roads,
black coffee,
alien cleanliness

silent, smooth trains
signboards devoid
of spelling errors

the perfection
offers no amusement
or warmth

what is this place I say
no bazaars oly,
no cows on the road also

english breakfast
on my plate
I used to like continental once

but now I dream
of idli dosa,
of dhabas,

and of bollywood songs
floating in
from next door aunty's house

I cant take it anymore
home beckons
wait wait, I'm coming.

amma

your words,
my bible
your voice,
comforting

hand-woven love
soft fingers,
that speak of
wisdom and grace

your toughness
and your
incomparable strength,
that I absorb

your thoughts,
that I worship
your advice,
that makes me think

you fill me with
the love you radiate
And I'm ready
to take on the world.

In my deepest fears
I think of you.

My protector,
allow me
to protect you
It takes two.

city

glitzy malls
shopping bags
high-heeled attitudes

dimly lit pubs
bring on the maritinis
loud music, young energy

workdays,
traffic honks,
smudged noise

weekends
multiplexes,
crowds everywhere

queues,
bills,
routine

getaway,
getaway.