Just for a minuet there
my love
I saw you
saw you sit
feet dangling over my window
you smiled
that smile of nonchalance
like every day
was a day to sit by the lemon grass
the bougainvillea is bending to greet you.
As your feet ferret out secret roots
I watch
like the dislodged mournful pigeons
as fabric
grazes the white flower weeds
there is a smell of rain in the air
Lets not talk of empty window sills, my love
lets just pretend you are still there.

Why are you screaming ?
Is there really need for more noise ?
you'r sitting inside me
with an iron lasso on heart
shut up

There is a gap in the wall 

slim silent slivers of warm air 

escape into this ice cold room 

only my ear seems aware of this tresspassing

the premise of a white room 

empty 

with this girl. 

cross legged 

color pools around her legs 

silk, 

red 

molten sunset.

wrapping itself around her. 

growing like a vine to tree.

fabric finds her curve 

melts to her breath

outside,

the sun sets,

leaching color. 

moon rises. 

The shadows from the peepal tree 

peep and

pry 

into windows 

dusting off the days grime 

inviting curtains to open within. 

The fabric finds form 

slippers find feet 

earning

tangled

in a wooden box 

find skin

Hungry, black finds the brown of her eyes 

red, 

her paler lips. 

breath. 

The day is done 

Its time for the night to begin. 

This body of mine 

knows and surrenders 

it remembers you

the even, bright memory of you. 

i want to sink into myself 

there is a river inside me 

the water is still 

and dark 

black. 

murky viscosity 

steaming saltiness that i must get past 

travel back from the sea and inlets

travel back past the stagnant beds

to rivulets 

up secret trails 

past water young and restless 

past rock and ice 

to where the river is a foetus

frozen 

black and dark 

this water inside me. 

waits

for me. 

Secrets Of A Made Up Language and other such stories

there was two of them.
to begin with.
yes
two to begin with
a secret language for two.
drum beats and heart beats in pairs
two
they understood
the browns swimming in their eyes
the sun shined tan of their bodies
digit to digit
secret telegraph tapping across her arm
silence for two
two step
in step
.......
she awoke from the book
back to the ferrous wheel turbine of an early morning
tubelit white light
hands were close but didnt know when to touch
eyes looked up a minuet a moment too late
The tongue in her mouth was a stranger
where had her words gone
she wondered through the suburban tangle
the tuition classes and tennis courts
she found blood
muscle
teeth
and
tissue
where were you
when it was thundering inside me ?
something absolutely vital
who are you now
now
that its quiet.

Your or You're

That's what it's for
just that moment
months and weeks and days later
and sometimes
years and decades and millennia after
when a little vortex will open up
right under you
a breathing, pounding hole
on sea shore and river bed
a little hole will open up and swallow you
and suddenly you'll slip past
commas and full stops and exclamation marks
through a tunnel where your words will make sense to you
and only you
when the darkness is so bright you can see
strands of hair
fighting, shouting
splitting.
when you and only you
can make sense of the lines in your palm
the prints of fingers
the swimming browns of your eyes
when words, random and at will
will jump up
jump out
right out
somewhere near your navel
and climb up
to your eyes
your ears
up the steep incline of your nose
until your eyes cross just to see them
words that
bounce and trill
and dance
to your meter
your magic
floating on your breath like
silk cotton
red, wispy and whimsical
or dark poppy, heavy, dripping sap
or they might sit
just sit
swinging their legs upon the curve of your ear
a stray eyebrow
run riot on that little bit of thinning hair.
and as suddenly as it began
back up you go
through the hole
the tunnel
sucking air.
holding on to slippery skin
to whooshing air
hoping
hoping
that maybe some of those words are still there.
back up,
the sea is calm
run your hands through your hair.
shake your head and say
it sounded so much better in my head.

the word is there
right there on the tip of my tongue
like a headache throbbing
its there
i need a pencil for this one
the light from this screen hurts my eyes
eyes that are tired from sameness
brightness
an everydayness
but today its there
like spice and sour tickling
like sweet spreading on my tongue
its there
tongues that are tired from talking
and waiting
tongues that exhaust the contours of the same words
but its there
a new one.
like the smell of fish just out of reach
like optimism learning to breath
this frankenstein is learning to pump blood
hot molten
like subcutanious hemoglobin
peeping out from a calloused cut.

wordless,
you made a hole
burrowed
just under my skin
there's a piece of you inside me now
bubbling under like, red, wet, hot, paint
is there a word to describe
it came on so suddenly
the distance of you.
Oh to secretly posses you.
to belong to your lights
your streets
your smells
your wonder
your horror
to posses you like the memory of you
i have no desire for poetry
I want to feel the the words crass and crisp on my tongue
burning fire brand tattoos
unmeasure these words
i want the meter of you.
splashing red molten light from your puddles
stains from the wet paint of you.
ear piercing shrill
is the nostalgia of you.

Come here love,
Come here so I can unbutton you
unbuckle you
sit here right beside me
so we can touch hands and toes

come here, come here love
So I can take the straps from your back
put your forehead on my shoulder
unburderened
unbuckled
unbuttoned you

Come here,come here love
It's a promise of cool finger tips
on your eye lids
warm hands on your back
sleep here
spine to supine spine

Come here come here love
say goodbye to the night
there'll be a smile to wake you
when morning comes

Come here, come here my love
i need you.

Its time this time
Its time to start moving
There is a caravan waiting and there’s a spot for us
Maybe it will be a little cramped
Maybe all our boxes will be left
But there is a place for you and me

Are you ready?
Out the door
They’r waiting for us
Don’t delay
It’s the seat by the window and its time to go

Don’t look back
Straight ahead
There the long line of carriage cars is waiting.
Shut the door behind you
Shut it out
Its time this time
Its time to start moving.

its just me today
im not expecting anyone
the bell's not ringing
in my house or in my head
the music's playing
and its just me today

Im not expecting anyone
and no ones expecting me
I'll play host to the rain
have her over for a drink
lazy afternoon just the rain and me

Curl up under the razaii
while she potters and whistles
knocking on my windows
little refracted rain drops
dropping in to say hello

Hello rain!
Today its just you and me.

I crave the dark confines of your mouth.
The silence that wont let me say anything
The unsaidness of everything I say
beautiful things disguised as fingers and hands and limbs and ears
forbidden continents of unknown spices
the smell of the rains and hills
Here I stand alone,
unseen poetry, unknown words
bursting in my head like peach blossoms in winter.

I lost you too quickly
in the tumultuous waves of my mind
I drifted to other thoughts
and left your screaming behind

there is a flash of red
they made a spectacle of you
your in the cirus ring
jumping hoops

I lost you too quickly
and you were gone
and each goosbump of fear
melted to skin

That was yesterday
and I was on to other things
there were things to do
and people to please

Today i tried to conjure you up again
but I lost you too quickly
and you were gone
you left a caricature of your pain
just enough to pontificate
just enough to say I understand
yes yes i see it
its awful
too true,
Just enough to say enough

but YOU, you were gone
you with your red scarf
you with your eyes closed in wincing pain
you with your white clenched clenched knuckels
your scream like a bubble of blood and bile.
the pick axe pinprick of your eyes
I lost you too quickly
and you were gone.

I dropped it in the letterbox today
it should reach you in a day or two
tell me if my love wont get to you
and maybe then a courier will have to do

Its a small envelope
you can keep it in your back pocket
or in that jacket that you like
it could lie by your keys on the mantelpiece
keep it close, dont lose it
Im sending you all my love.

Will you tell her

Will you tell her today please
that today i want to be silent
I want to look inside me
there is the dusting and laundry to do

Will you tell her that today I want to be silent
and still
not move
will you tell her her song is beautiful
but today i cant hear
today i have things to do inside me

I can hear your bangles climbing the stairs
dont ring the doorbell
there is no one home today
tomorrow maybe there will be things to give her
but today i must be alone

I want smudged rainy sunshine on a windshield with you
maybe tomorrow we can find it
Today i must be still
the oils need changing
the brakes need braking
the gears gearing
i need to be quiet today

The birds have made their nests
the little birds are coming
dont crowd me
I cannot hear tham yet
You will know when they come
but today, today I must be still.

Love Song to Self,

I like this you see
sitting here
legs up on a chair
black lap top
sort of dripping, kind of curly black hair

The day is full of promise
groggy clouds
argumentative sunshine
and here I am
sort of dripping, kind of curly black hair

Im waiting but I was here first
and I saw it rain while you slept
When you come you will see I cycled
through the smell of new rain happy enough to have wept
Sort of dripping kind of curly black hair

A new city will walk me home today
a new house will call me home
Maybe I'll make a new friend today
maybe someone else will cycle by and see
Sort of dripping kind of curly black hair

The brain fever bird knows monsoon is here
its just our little secret
Morse code and short stop. stop. telegraph rain drops
today its just me and my sort of dripping kind of curly black hair.

Yellow kurta, white salwar,
yellow chappals
and silver earning and nose rings and toe rings
Dripping drops kissing, sort of curly for the day, black hair.

No Pathos
no poignance
no existentialism
nope,this is just my love song to my no longer dripping, not so curly, black hair

JUST BE!: From Detention Drama to 'Dacoit' Declaration

JUST BE!: From Detention Drama to 'Dacoit' Declaration

Dilli, Delhi, Home

The thing is growing up in Delhi, I think I fell in love with her, with who she is and how much she is. If you were to look at my city as a room then you have to find the trap door which is apparent but hidden in the texture of the walls and once you find it the walls fall away to reveal the butterfly effect of the room you'v always seen but this time its different. There are vines and creepers hidden along the undersides of the bed and chipkalis and kaan ka keedas and white colored 'susu' keedas where they really dont deserve to be.

Delhi lets you be not one but a thousand things and will show you her secrets if only your willing to look.

Its a city that can morph itself to your every mood, my city in winter encloses in itself the purest and most genuine feeling of elation. The light changes and when we think of Delhi the weather has a lot to do with out nostalgia. Warm, sluggish whirring fan, summer afternoons in Delhi University and monsoon in a car peering out at the road.

The train pulling into New Delhi station, a flash of light before dark, light,flash dark, dark, dark, dark and then the all too muchness of light. secret writing on the stones of a forgotten monument, secret chaste walks in Lohdi gardens when all you want is the audacity of the local leach to jump your companion, who if he or she is sensible is eating lemon tarts from the IIC.

Weeping at the sight of the purana kila all lit up like a bride who will never get married. Talking Bhartnaytam and other constructive activities or just general pretentious posturing with knees touching under a dirty table serving up momos or Kathi kababs.

The license to be pretentious and then be a jaat. to be pish posh and a dehati, to love and like and might I add hate with abandon.

You dont have to like Delhi to love her. Delhi is not 'nice' and she doesn't make it easy but its wonderful to be in love with her because sometime you cant tell if she is walking to you or away from you.

A biblical question

Adam of the fame of Eve and paradise must have been white to have been tempted by an apple. I mean if you must be seduced by a fruit shouldn't it be the mango? Ripe with juice flowing down your chin when you bite into it. The sour tickling the tip and the sweet flooding the countours of your tongue. I would settle even for a watermelon but men with watermelons in their throats would be difficult to digest. So mangoes it must be then, the ones where you tear of the top with your teeth and squeeze the flesh into your open, delirious with anticipation mouth. Paradise should have been tropical and Adam, chocolate with long hair.

Compassion and self pity hold one hand and slap each other with the other. Like conjoined twins unable to escape the truth of a shared kidney and an all too small heart but riding the nauseating waves of the world wide web in search of the elusive surgery that will finally allow them to get dining chairs opposite from each other.

It is incredibly easy to give in to both because ultimatly each is an excuse to feel the same thing. Compassion lets you feel love and feel good about it and self pity makes you feel like splitting your head open but generally over the love and loss of something.