fight

today is fragile,
shivering,
stripped down
to this bare morning

we meet,
halfway
but it is lost soon
to red eyed words

that neither of us
can swallow;
hurling them
like boomerangs.

broken,
about to break
man,
woman.

tired, exhausted emotions
go away,
come back,
stay.

I see this
and I see that..
no no,
give me some time

because right now
my focus
is all over the place.

I thought
I'd sit here
and prove to you
that I'm invincible

now
before I break
I'd rather
you get away.

oh delicious feeling

of rediscovering
the beauty
of falling madly in love
with a song.

wispy song
meandering, like
the carving on your chillum

fingers tripping
carelessly
on the fretboard

gypsy stoner,
where are you going?

wooden chords
lazily drifting along
nylon strings

picking up words
scrawled in my head,
finding melody
in the space between

my song,
dancing lightly
like a smoke ring

evaporating into
the warmth of my room,
the colours
of the afternoon.

paati

she,
bent double,
rippling brown skin

under her
loosely draped
faded saree

dragging palm fronds
on the road
her nosering sparkling

against the sun,
as she gestures
to us for help

young shining eyes,
gummy grin
and wise wrinkles,

woman.

beyond

now I know
what it was
that was so captivating

your movements,
so fluid
unrestrained,

unbound,
like your mind.
free.

and I knew then
that it was all
I wanted to be.

what is it
that makes me
want to pen,
type,paint or sing
every thought in my head

fear
that it might be forgotten?

song

when you walk awayyyayyyy
tell me what to do
with all this love

and as we drift awayyyayyyy
what do you think we do
with all this love

turn my thoughts
inside-out
washed, wrung dry

bleeding fabric
colouring others
in patches,perceptions

look at them,
clothes line,
half amusing

part of this
imprinted on that
and that, on this.

maybe the last

standing here
watching the sky
spill its colours
into the morning.
this beautiful view,
unsettling.

can you feel the distance
coming closer to us?

fume

and it springs up again
this wanting
to hurt you back
to show you
how hurt i am.

i can retort
or slap your face
be as stupid as you are
to play this game

but trembling,
i control myself
head held high,
not giving in
as you stand there
throwing word-darts
at my ego.

dreams,
like alcohol
devoid of any respect

for the bold lines
drawn to separate
different worlds

smudging them
into a
circle of confusion

things unspoken
now out in the open
among voices and faces

that are strangely familiar,
washing away the chaos
waking up fresher.

stay

softly ringing,
these notes you play
freely sashaying

into the half-light
rising,falling too soon
pause right here

can you sustain
this feeling
on your piano

Ha.

today
I am going to do
whatever I want
bye bye,I'm taking off

I will skip,hop
and do flip-flops
like that boy in the old
sundrop oil ad

I will do the limbo
and the locomotion too
watch tv,
or listen to music

when I'm sleepy
I'll just crawl into my rug
for some nice long
ten hours of thoughtless peace

buy myself a packet of gems
and sit on the terrace,
watch the sunset
and the birds going home

today
I choose to be
free will.

wisps of morning mist
dance in the beams
of car headlights

grey road,white paint
deserted flyovers,
closed shops

streetlight posts
stand tall
in mute resignation

equally spaced
in a neat row,but
never quite close enough

taking a turn now,
at the corner
of a gully

a chai-wala,
in blue striped muffler,
opens his stall

and on a cycle,
aluminium cans rattle
as a milkman sails past.

kochi

we're sitting here,
under this coconut tree
our own cosy harbour

watching quiet ripples
form in
night silver waters,

that stretch across
and open out
into the ocean

where dim lights
betray the silhouette
of a sleepy ship far away

water flows gently,
time laps at our feet
in easy waves.

Thomas Mathew

mathew
an old man
wrinkled face

grey shocks
of hair grew
out of his ears,

ears that knew
the sound of each note
so well

mathew,
the old man
the piano-tuner

he'd come to class
in an old grey suit
and wooden case

the day he'd come
hushed whispers
of his arrival

mathew
unscrewed pianos
unlocked a magical world

little fingers
pressing a key
ting

toy hammers
for every note
we'd giggle

mathew
repair man
piano tuner

we were kids
in awe of him
his piano-playing

he rarely spoke
only smiled
crinkled kind eyes

mathew
eighty years old
brown leather slippers

i wondered
in my
10 year old mind

about his family
his life
his piano-tuning

mathew
sudden hoarse coughs
forehead lines

i looked forward
to his visits,
childish curiousness

matthew
now no more,
leaves behind

the music ,
all the pianos
he brought life to.

katpadi

at the station ,
platform no.2,
on a winter morning

sitting on a bench
eating vada
waiting for the train

a crow,
head tilted
looks hopefully at me

people talk,
in low murmurs
that abruptly pause

at the three noted alert
announcements,that are
all too famliar

a big rat
scurries over
steely tracks and rail-rubble ,

grey and brown stones
that will soon
blur in motion.