Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Nostalgia

the steaming rice
drinks up the broth
and spices up its lonliness…
the smoking oil in the wok
tantalizes the young and raw onions
they turn pink
blushing
they hide behind the stiff okra
or sturdy potatoes
flavours, dormant and subdued
flare up
and fill my room
with aromas long cherished
i find home
in wafting flavours
nostalgia, bubbling in a wok!

The Otherness of My Words



"Your words, not mine"-
you pushed the conversation towards me
holding the empty silence at your end.
"My Words!"
Ah, I see,
the ownership, the title deed - mine.
These words-
               mine?
               truly mine?
               mine alone?
Each syllable,
all the intonations
every meaning -
               ascribed or presumed, all mine?
My words
because,
              I rolled them on my tongue
              tasted the hurt in them
              gulped down the expectations they carried
              kissed them good luck,
              as they left my lips...
beacuse,
              they stood forlorn
              suspended in the otherness
              engulfing the small universe, mine.
My words
because,
            they could not breathe
            in the air heavy and pungent
            with the acrid odor of breathing ghosts.
My words, mine,
only mine
because,
I spoke them to dead ears and deaf eyes.
         

Insanity

An antonym
Opposites
And unlike what is said
Opposites don't attract,
And even if they do
There's friction
My diction
Your language
My rage
Your patience 
Makes sense
To those grazing the surface
The furnace 
Burns deep
And when I weep
Tears are hot
They burn a trail 
I fail
To stitch logic
Or reason, or rhyme
Is it a crime 
To seek, to ask, to question?
Perception
Is an art of management 
I went
Mad, from being madly passionate
At any rate
It's the antonym
That has stuck on me 
You have flipped my world
The one that you hold in your hand
Beyond my reach
Beyond the stretch 
I could muster...
A tale so mundane...
You hold the right end,
And, I on the opposite, insane.

Monday, April 23, 2018

United, We Hate.


In hatred 
We unite.
Hatred is powerful.
It makes us capable
-of spilling venom
It gives us the power 
-to berate
-to hurt
-to burn you down to ashes.

In our hatred
the rainbow pales
- there is no red and green and orange.
The glare and glow is from one color
-only one
for, plurality is never to be entertained
- in hatred we focus on one,
in unison.

You all, all of you
are defined with a single you
-one finger that points 
-in one direction
Focus. Purpose. Precision.
We do not differentiate, 
you all are you, and you alone
- not good and bad.
We are not misguided by degrees of separation
- our decree, focus.
For us, you are bad.
Period.

Our hatred is red hot
it scorches our innards
We burn
the collective fumes rise
engulf the entire universe, 
yes universe,
-because we are focused.
Our eyes flash red.
The fumes
-angry and venomous
guide us in the haze
our scorching ire
sees one truth
- inside out
We stop seeing you.
As person. As Living. As human.
Your unseen presence
fills us with rage.
We strike
-to kill
-to teach a lesson
-to make you remember
Our hatred is complete.

What is this ‘reason’
you keep mumbling
our thundering voices can 
overrun any murmur.
Listen, hear, feel-
We do not need reason, 
your reason or any else-
We are not going to budge-
in hatred,
we unite.

Thursday, April 5, 2018

Horn. OK. Please.

Honk.
Bleet.
Shout.
Scream.
The rugged helplessness of those stuck-
driven - in passanger seats
Loud curses of those at wheels
that they can steer, nowhere!
Passive - in grammar - is a voice
heard loud
as a roar on Twitter
as a rage in Studios
as a deflection, on streets.
The Greens, Yellows and Reds signal
latency -
systemic
orechestrated
perpetual.
Propelling staggard movements-
onwwards, left/ right-
the lanes overflow
and at crossroads,
overlap.
Learn the rules of the chaos-
the one behind
with restless foot on pedal
will not wait
but overtake,
from right.
There is nothing left,
on the left
not even the footpath-
nothing to walk on.
Stay where you are
Stuck
The hind-sight of the bulldozer truck
owns up
Horn. Ok. Please.




Friday, March 23, 2018

Saamna

Apni tasveer dekhta hai bas,
Har koi aaeena nahi rakhta-
Deed chashmon se chhup kar guzri-
Ab koi saamna nahi karta.  

Kamaal- e- Kalaam

Jo likha tha, tumne padh liya
Harf_on mein bayaan e haal tha
Per lufzon mein uljha hua
Ek ankaha sa sawal tha...
Tum padh ke bhi nadaa_n rahe
Hum kah ke bhi kahan keh sake
Lufzon mein lipti Khamoshiyan
Nazron ki phir gustakhiyan
Yeh guftgu kuch ajeeb thhi
Kuch alag hi kamaal e kalaam tha!