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?