Lists

Where does one begin and the universe end;

When is it right to call sunrays as moonlight?

Dear stranger, as such 

How did you lose keys to my door?

Questions rowed on empty rivers in spate 

Crossed deltas of verdant jasmine dreams 

Sometimes they slept on cold floors of reality 

And waking up to clock-timed finity 

made love to all questions lying around

At nights they saw you tinkling above 

And wondered if your world was as stark as this 

But then daylight brought its mirrors, echoes;

Shopping lists, bucket lists, lists, always lists.

Dear stranger, where did you lose,

That list of things to make you mine?

These evenings

These evenings lit by Venus

Blow westwind in my hair

And far above the space we stood

Carve out half-curved sacred scents

These evenings kiss on the shoulder

They soar on borrowed wings  

And deep inside a forgotten shrine 

Ignite an oil lamp of the self

These evenings dangle on my ears, 

As red glass-bound threads; on kites

flown across skies of being missed

Bending, kneeling, holding your feet 

These evenings seep into my blood,

Burning your Venus light, dear stranger 

And with the fire that brought stars to life

Destroy all grief and need.

Paper Needs

Oh the gall you have, you! 

You of this world's honeycomb wishes

And paper needs! You!

My eyes drink and seek

What your eyes will never see

And you judge my joy

I left you alone to your pursuit

I ran alongside your rivers

Made boats of words

Of dreams and images 

I sold them to people 

who met me on your banks

Who, like me, sought to cross

Your mindless rush to extinction 

I can shed these words

As I do my very skin,

Each time I need to plunge 

In your merciless waters 

But you!

You, of the need for more

And more,

How will you know

To shed is to have more?

But the sheer gall! 

Book

Forgotten scars yielded fresh blood

On the day you came with Jasmines 

And tears appeared up in the sky as 

Gentle orbs raining silver light 

You made music out of words

I wove stories into letters 

Together we created infinite pain 

Endless joy 

And when the night was done,

Jasmines folded on themselves  

And my pain and yours were 

Dried between pages 

Of our never to be written book 

Dear Stranger

People, names, places, lust and disgust

Flit past my window, much as I insist,

I can neither stay nor stop; 

Each memory lights up my nights 

As fireflies; stars; kisses on forehead

I run from emptiness into loneliness

And my train draws wider circles around 

What I can never seem to find, nor hold

You came too for a moment that lasted 

As long as blue-pea flowers in the afternoon sun

They say the world is held by a turtle 

My world is locked somewhere in a moment

But my train, it never seems to arrive 

At the deep blue river that I am to plunge in

I draw circles on sand, my name on your skin

Waves of time will wash them away too

I can neither stay nor stop

Were you to hold my hand that night 

A little tighter, dear stranger,

Perhaps, my time would have run backwards

As much as I insist? 

Within, there is a fire to fuel

Without, there is an incredible blanket of null 

I run through forests of people; piles of driftwood 

Some odes to life, some stunted by life 

Others spread way above this way of life

I jump, I try to reach the stars, 

Was it you that I hugged to climb?

The ground needs my feet and I run 

I look around, above, beneath and find 

All around me is just me

But this me, neither scares nor comforts 

I seek you in me too

Two Cups of Tea

My words flirt with your fingers

Memories embrace from behind, 

As watermarks on glass tabletops

Sunlight pours through clasped hands

And dries those fragrant keepsakes 

For a day when you lie with your book

And think of two cups of tea

And a sunset at home

He Laughs At Me

He laughs at me; sometimes with me. In me.

All of my loneliness, desire and quest,

They dance to his mystical rhythms 

He, who holds their existence in his throat

As poison that neither leaves nor kills,

Or ancient stories traversing earth's fecund womb

He is the weaver and I, his first poem; his last line

At times, when dramas end and silences take over;

I see His history from his vertical eye

Etching itself into my soul; his flame created

The very creator of my world, and I 

And untouched by either, he curves my time

He of mysterious smiles and cardamom breath

Rips skin off deadness and wears shredded ennui

He who flirts with my step-sisters: loneliness, desire, quest

To whom, I write in every single line, a love note

He laughs at me, with me, in me

And sometimes, claims I am half his body

South-Breeze From Your Soil

At dusk she arrives, dressed in gold

With a little deep-space blue of winter nights; 

Or of tangled hair between two pairs of lips; 

A frangipani story in her closed fist

Snaking into your rooms; seeking tomorrow's noon 

Dreams rounded up into silver-white pearls

A little of knowing you, woven together

With threads of suspended time, a sacred knot

As sunlit diamonds roll on placid waters; she hangs

longing on your windowsill; as did yesterday's moon 

Don't hold that south breeze from your soil; 

Lock your doors tight, dear stranger.

You And I

You are shiva my consummate man, 

I your very half, your severed sati

I lay in parts scattered on the ground

You smeared my ashes to your soul

Ambition and war, children and peace

I granted them all to those who sought

I drank from the blood of my tears at night

But your thirst remained 

Did you leave because of my need

Would you return for yours?

Sisters, mothers, oh this world is full;

Worshippers; faithful souls of cause

One begets another, tiny packets of karma

My day began with no rhythm, 

And nights have never had grace

You took the moon and his Ganga

When you left my fragmented self

Temple bells, ancient dawn, primal needs

To see, to bathe, to touch and worship

I wore ochre sarees of sacrifice 

Spread across the poignant dusk

Quiet ecstasy of love that will 

Never climax again, just fades 

I made sacred beads of tears and 

brought your reflection to life

Until the world met its end, 

And your image married mine 

I have a dream

We were at some kind of  resort. No I was staying there and you were to come on weekends. An arrangement  similar to this.

I have a flat mate mate, a guy who generally kept to himself, nice enough to cook for me. Again, god knows how that works. We played chess and had wine while I waited for you. We sang songs and ate while I dreamt of Sunday. I don't know what I am doing there, but the resort is in the midst of rolling hills, all lush, green and wet with longing.

I went and for long walks and discovered khazakistani blue silk-laden czars who were the size of my Grandfather and had just his smile. He offered me a drag. I remember the taste of nicotine and wondered at the warmth of his mouth. And then I waited for you. 

Then on one day and many days, and on many many days, there was someone else in the room. At first, he just watched me eat and read and speak to my flat mate. Then I realised he watched me bathe. A cold fear crept from the window into my shower where I felt his eyes. I tried bathing dressed as they do in Telugu movies. I learnt not to touch, not to shower at nights, always waiting for something really bad to happen. Would you come? Will he open the door? Will my flat mate die? Does he know that he will? Questions sometimes buzzed in your phone calls, somewhere at a distance but we kept it light. You called me a sex nymph and I called you my prince. Of castles we had air, water and the whole of this blue sky. I waited for Sundays which came after my wait.

I went for shows in the evenings, wore jasmines in my hair, I spoke at length of the saree and got a few friends in the resort all geared up to meet me. He watched my sudden socialisation and went crazier than the moon. He would watch my things when I was not in the room. I knew, I felt his eyes on the towel that covered me and on my underpants.

 

Then he started touching me without meaning to. On the swing when I would reading, he placed his hand under where I should be sitting and waited for my weight to fall on it. I didn't jump because I knew. I shifted but he smiled. I called out to my flatmate but panic had no special voice. He was busy in the kitchen.

I read, he watched and removed his shorts. There he is on the swing next to me holding his naked need. I had no hand for it, my eyes held on, I waited for you, here he was with his dampened, wasted life. I ran from the room. Twice, thrice, weeks altogether. I flew away on rain clouds. I got a job on the far end of Tv globe saving people, helping those who would need Organised, strategized, sustainable and recycled toilets. I was to leave when you came to meet me on Sunday. Some days, I waited and cried. Other nights he got bolder. He would take my blouse off and watch my fresh buds. As though they were roses, he would touch and smell and hold. I stopped crying when he held me close. But fear became the panther that strikes at night from a height. I watched the night for his eyes,

his touch and any sound that ever was made for my ears on alert. 

It didn't happen at night though. In broad daylight, I was crushed. Panthers can kill people, I knew it then. I merely had blood between my limbs and a wound that never filled. I love him. I waited for you at the resort. 

The panther killed again and agin until death was a state of mind. Life was a battle of nerve endings with disgust. You didn't arrive because of disgust. I love because of chemical messengers in the blood filling  my breasts and limbs with ancient ghost calls to produce life. The panther, did he love death or his prey? Who knows, who knows?

Years later, in a dream, you arrived on a Sunday. It was a clear night and my name was up with the stars in the sky.

Words

I know, as you do

Mere words fade 

Words mean nothing

And yet, with words, 

My world fills, 

Jumps, lilts and sways

Words unmake me 

Pile up, tumble, drench

And come crashing down

As our worlds crashed 

one night into dreams 

arranged word by word

Telescope nights, full-lip signatures 

Open skies, hoary rhythms 

Eyes burning words into my soul 

Words ripped this heart out

Scarred, bloodied, tore once

And again in repeat plays 

No words worked as balm

On tiny punctures that hid 

As stars do at dawn

And yet, with words

My daily sun is brighter

The greys deeper

I seek not even in the silence 

of your life-affirming touch, 

An absence of word

And no matter how ephemeral 

the warmth of ocean's womb,

I will wait for eternity to arrive

With her wordsmiths into this nook

A New Poem

One moment wrapped in time, or was that a night

Your lips wrapped on kisses or was that sunlight? 

Lonesome frangipani lay spent on the ground,

Until a green saree sprinkled glass-bangle sound

And words entangled so with words,

rhyme, rhythm, meaning, and purpose

Tumbled into new depths, novel deaths

Under an imagined tree at night 

Your skin and mine, your touch and mine

Breathed a new life

All that I ever was, 

burned in sheer joy

And from those sacred ashes, 

New lives arose with a cry

Today's smile was 

printed on my breasts 

Here and now; 

and a new poem is born

Three words

Three words; and the whole world came to be still

Three words; and heavens betray their dizzying will 

Your name and mine blended into bonsai nights

And fragrance of waves was cast in forever stones

Your stories and dreams, babies and dimlit stairs 

Twenty years ago, you sang those songs; but it is 

Today's moon that rose among those grateful stars

Twenty years ago, I heard those words

Could-have-been-mine moments sparkled all night

One clasp from behind has melted your moon

My peerless Friend, 

But with what do I fill your generous cup?

Phone-call to Death

Death came face to face again 

Today, after yesterday,

And I was all alone with you 

Crushed under a tree, 

Moonlight met your arms

But I heard there, just an eternity ago;

four lives disappeared 

And a broken-hearted loneliness

lay lifeless on a stretcher 

somewhere in a busy mall

Where I was talking to the stars

"Last few days", "wrong turn",  "last wish"

Phrases jumped out from shopping bags, 

Taxi driver's swears, random books in a cafe

message from the gods; your kisses

Yes there was a walk, 

where fingers carved out names

On breezes from the past

Yes, there was a wedding 

Where music of two heartbeats 

Recited sacred hymns

And no, there are no forts built

Where empty bodies sleep

On ancient tombs of loss

So, no sleep, no time, no guts, no glory

All and forever more, there are cascades of pain

Pouring into emptiness, filling nooks of need 

Curving and bending, heaving and smiling

Measuring time's fickleness in mango momentos 

Those smiles stamped half moon bites

I made a phone call in the midst of it all

And said, still alive, still breathing

If there is still a tomorrow

I will meet you here 

Your Gods and Mine

Your gods and mine went with the Yin and Yang 

They left empty houses of worship all along 

Far away from our green-blue Sturm und Drang

We lift our eyes to the sky sometimes in a song

And when heavens flooded, hope rose in a swell 

Dare I steal a spark from the stars; one night to burn  

One half of me and you fashioned of a black hole hell

Have they gone too far, too lost in time to even yearn?

Or like waters from dark rain clouds, melt as one

Filling ocean depths to the brim with teardrops of sun 

Your gods and mine came to bathe in these monsoons 

We will worship them with the silence of silver moons 

Which Story?

Shape-shifter, side winder, star gazer, 

Which story did you weave of me way-farer?

I wrapped cloud blankets on smouldering desires  

You kindled smug rains in untouched kisses of fire 

But who built those temples of goosebumps, ocean waves

When I fashioned you, me, and we of two knaves

We drew then nectar from forgotten poems of fingers

Lips to skin, earth to moon, that night's fragrance lingers

Tomorrow is a strange planet, oh how old is its moon!

My pages lie open in dreams of a secret silver tune 

Word-blender, yellowed-corner-pleasure for a reader;

Which story will you write,  dear way-farer?

You And I

A sensuous half-moon rose on the road tonight

Sad songs were strung for his lonely night light  

Glorious trees reached out on either side of the path

framing loneliness of words in a silver-light wrath 

And I saw myself in the road that goes nowhere 

I saw in you the moon's near-random wayfare 

Those trees that rise like dreams of you and I 

Sweet lines that echo of an end that draws nigh;

And so the story goes, that moon dies at twilight;

roads move on but silver-lined songs hold on tight

To stories of love, lust, life and pages lost to sight

Forever

Deep wood crickets, your paintbrush fingers, 

Dark clouds kissing dreams of moonlit nipples

In a long-ago stunned summer of naked hormones

Why wonder if that was all a dream?

Filling my heart as it did now

Your deep full river flood of a need

Spoke of voids and valleys within. 

And your embrace rested itself on my heart

Forever it's own, even if for a moment