......

i watch

through the glass

two wrinkled dolls

white and pink

lips open and close

memorizing lullabies

little girl and mother

a patient struggle

timeline and tricks

chocolate stains

spilled tea

tastes of future

a lone traveler

a metallic journal

windblown thoughts

eastern puzzles

promises of return

to another life

yesterday

a father and son

a hushed reunion song

ham sandwiches and

Darjeeling tea

a strained longing

for the unused time

everyday

someone new

in pairs

unaware of me

my hand prints on glass

waiting for us

again

the same corner

hungry afternoon

a pot of tea

for two

Link

The only link

between you and me now

are these lines that try to remember

all the first times and the last looks.

They stray into empty canteens

graveyards and fun fairs

rooftops and radio channels.

Through flickering video reels

of never ending quarrels with

unattended wishes and gifts

you stare at the screen

in your cheap sunglass moment.

My impressions change shape

on paper, like poems and brides

like careless ink stain doodles

and a story that you read at night.

Memory-

the only link

between you and me now

is everything.

Orange

At the corner of a week

when the year was turning around

and time was drawing a circle,

from behind a gulmohar tree

an orange cat sat watching

the twilight sky

that hung from a branch.

Unlike this silence

when everything is perfect

in a room full of voices and feet

behind the glass walls

i watch your fingers strain

my orange name

through tea leaves of time.

On the trees that flower

orange mornings

when the moon is red with sleep

a spider spins chalky doodles

of papery daydreams

of a cat that watched

you and me.

Theft

I am a little confused
why?
am i hunting for your photographs
again
like every time i will erase them
when
looking at them each time
I
slowly begin to weep and wonder
why
you look the happiest in them
if
only i were there with you
know
love wouldn't make me weep
yet
I search every picture
closely
eyes a little mole and your sweat
all
remind me of myself
yet
a dream lies like a pea
under
several covers of my story
my
story that i dream with you

a bit confused

tonight i am wearing your rust tee

tonight i need to smell your skin again

tell me you understand

that you know what i did was right

that you know that i havent slipped

my stomach is stiff with pain

i fought the wishes of a man who touched

my arms hurt when i bathed

to wipe off the dirt that came on his fingers

to change to a skin untouched

tonight i will pray again for myself

i may hurt myself with memories of a night

i may wash myself all over again

Sums

in that empty house
where i keep a few colored pots and bottles
some old maps and used tickets
i spend my evening watching the cobwebs
eating the leftovers and listening to my own footsteps
not that i am hungry
only in my sleep i get thirsty, but sleep doesn't come

i calculate
how much time has gone
when i collected these pots
how many evenings i have spent waiting for your call
for you to call me
i calculate how i lost directions
and began to write down the promises i would make
i begin to look for bunny rabbits in the clouds

i remember more
when it began to rain
i remember that evening watching a play
and then roles changed
i have begun to wonder why my feet hurt so much
why doesn't it rain when im walking
why is the food so cold

i sit and write
the mistakes i made
the stories i drew on empty sheets
the doors that i thought were on my wall
the keys that never would fit
i sit and wonder
how will i move so many pots and bottles
how will everything remain unbroken.

End of 2005

This is a set of mails written long time back in the year 2005 right after i left Bangalore, and i left behind something which I thought was mine.

to

sanjukta.only@gmail.com: this is my new gmail id...hee the other one i thought wud use for official purposes!! sanjukta: i thought you had adamworx as ur id... If i had you, how would it be? would it be good? would the mornings be bluer? the sun warmer and the streams cooler? would the coffee smell better? biryani taste better and I get fatter? would the nights be cozier? love be lovlier? would my hair be shorter ? my face fairer? would you get a make over? or stay the way you are forever? would we travel in a bus ? or an auto on a rainy day together? would we get cold and drenched? and sit closer? would i wait for you longer? would you wait for me moreover? would those days be back ? if ever? would they? to sanjukta.only@gmail.com: i thought i wud get one in my normal id... p.s: those lines were beautiful..! sanjukta.only: The lines were beautiful did you say? talking smart is your way :-) of your words what do I believe? for you say, ' they are the ones that decieve' if decietful are your words, and truth the silence decietful is not anything , but your own loving sense love is not to clutch I know love is not without a dream did you know? if dreams are not nurtured love stings then not words, the silence rings you choose not to react or act in love no, not words are needed always. when silence,be misunderstood some consolation and says, some words, memories of some days they work, both ways those words like a spark in the dark may light hope you may say..what's the use? i know too its too obtuse shall i explain that to my heart? or will you explain? all from the start! no reply came after this mail. or may be whatever came never could satisfy my questions fully...and i moved into another time zone... a happier one.

empty house

wake, sleep, walk, time, wrap, run,

rag ,weave, dream, seam, trim, 

tea, toss, time, road, roam, home, alone,

cook, eat, read, net, fret, sleep, wake sleep, bet

letter 1-dear friend

I have only one picture of you

I cut it from the one,

you posed with the lady boxer,

and i turned it grey.

I thought it looked better.

You were partly right,

our paths are fading,

maybe they should.

Just like memories behave,

they wont disappear though.

Has it been raining there?

I  love the mists .

just when I walk through,

the grey changes to magic colours

and all this while i thought

i was colourblind !

dreamless

one of those nights again

when i dont sleep

a million images float around

a million stories

all asking for attention

all asking for words

one of those stories

make it to the top 

while the others fade

while the the morning comes

i remember only one

i remember very little

one of those posts

that i write on orange

only few know

only few read

fewer understand

fewer care a little more

one of these nights

when i will wake quietly

and stories wont know

and none will scream

i will write  about the breeze

i will sing to the trees

one of those songs

i will keep under my pillow

it will stain the muslin pink

it will make the linen green

the feathers may float

the feathers may stray

but i will neither  talk

i will neither be away