Queues

Form a line and you will be promptly served
there are just so many in front of you
your turn will come soon, have your notes ready
one by one the line will move as one by one the stairs come down

Departures

You have your ticket?
Can I check your passport / boarding pass?
Please be seated at the cross lanes of weeping lady and concerned mother,
across the candy eating chinese beside the red Turk
Write all you like gazing at the white blank paper
Still hoping - Pyaar se bula aajayegi
Love will find a way.

Love, much like truth, is not a prostitute - it doesn't come cheap, it doesn't throws itself at you - it extracts from you your secret most treasures, your deepest care, your strenuous effort..

No hurry

At the port, in the lounge, the time is set
the clouds hang in the distance, over the mountain
now a burning shadow, there a calm yellow
some wilful sounds disturb the constant hum

Like so many kites on board a jet so many lives hang
the words balm the unsatiated heart
the tight lipped eyes well up a strange shade of purple
isn't it too early to declare her a memory alone?

The ceiling is fake, the lights artificial, the sounds robotic
was this the future the child madly after?
amongst the sea of strange faces, the familiar emotions still show up
(a not so old couple engage in a casual kiss)

The heart will live the night dreaming it is we who kissed after the anxieties and uncertainity of first nights were long over.

Where the sea lions cough

(wrote yesterday looking for a memory that keeps cutting deeper and deeper)

Walk in the night when the world sleeps
The spirits again moving across the space
Piercing the silence, painting the sky a cloudy white
When lovers walk hand in hand forgetting the day's chores

Sit opposite the barbed wire listening to roaring hungry lions
Water disturbed by sounds and airy movements reflecting the glimmer of manly lights
Cool winds fan the fiery spirits shivering the body
Meditate on the coming morning when it will all be hue and cry again

Fly over the bay like a seagull attracted by sea lions' roar
Staring into the depths of oceanic vast richness
The rainbow of moon's light over the moving clouds
Calming the senses, reassuring the night that the darkness would soon give way

Listen to the familiar call of heart's calling
Expecting to solve the mystery of it's desires
Who made the first move that caused the turbulence at this scale
When was the crime committed and how long the scathing punishment would last

To think the maths behind it - if one is other follows
Moving the fingers symptomatic of lively consciousness
Living a life full of rich meaninglessness
As long as the one with the strength of giving it meaning hides behind the cursed veil

The words and meanings shake the inner lonely turbulence
Wishing that the sky would soon fall crushing everything beneath
The show is addictive and hypnotises your countenance
Still the saying goes - shudhosi, budhosi, niranjanosi

A memory

(Caricature of a memory so old that it seems only yesterday. Was apprehensive of publishing this as it contains curse words but the encouraging sentiment of introduction to Capitalism and Schizophrenia impelled to let go.)

Sitting on the floor, a plate of samosas, chips and a tetra pack of juice is served. The chief guest gives a speech and the chief server follows him out after it. You have just barely finished eating or drinking when all of a sudden a shout comes from behind - ‘Madarchod’. You think you have heard something mistakenly like sometimes when you have seen the rainbow in the rain but its just a cloudy sky. And in a moment there are all these sounds from every mouth standing - ‘Madarchod, Behenchod, Madarchod’. It starts to rhyme. You think for a moment they are not talking to you but they are, they really are talking to you and to you only. Who else is there who is listening but you and only you. And you start wondering what have you done, you just silently ate what you have been served. What have you done? Perhaps you were not supposed to eat what you were served. Perhaps you are not supposed to eat at all. Perhaps this is what happens to everybody who eats.

I may never know whether the cat is dead or alive but I must answer these perhapses, to understand the full implications of what I have done.

To think that those sitting on the floor whom you think you know will become those dancing wildly around whom you do not know and you wonder what is this magic place, this temple of learning that transform children into wild men in a year. And you set out to find everything about it. Like a spy investigating a crime.

The ten year have gone behind and no one told you when to run and you miss the starting gun. And you run and you run to catch up with the Sun but its sinking.

An energy bound in time

(Written sometime in 2017)

There is no winning. You are just some energy bound in time. Everything else is what humans call prejudice. Glib, clever remarks must get rid of those too. This is utmost bareness. Nudity. Nakedness. Prejudiced shame.

Sorry. Thank you. Society. Fear. .. A handshake. A hug. A kiss. Ritual. A goat to Ali. A buffalo to Kali. A chicken to man. Don't be a copycat. Honesty is the best policy. Political slogans. Hopeless labour. Childhood fantasies. Ants, spiders and lizards. Chinese medicine. Africa's children. Ingredients: X, Y, Z, tears as per taste. .. Line me up, shout me down, play the dying Zeppelin song till you know what.. Winning is losing. Health is wealth. The rich are the poor. The wise are the foolish. Standards of living... Where was the boot from of that अवारा joker? Japan. Land of the rising Sun. Still if there is a hole in your you know what, hold these there - 'Don't be fooled by colours. Don't be fooled by colours.' And while they uttered about her and her, I stared blankly. And while they danced wildly, I stared blankly. And while they shot that rocket up above the world so high, I stared blankly. Mixed signals. It's that time of the year again, when birds sing and flowers bloom. Help me paint this wall with colours. Move your bricks and make this a chorus. And I stare blankly.!? .?! !.? !?. ?.! ?!. P&C. Africa's children. मत पूछ क्या हाल है मेरा तेरे पीछे, तू देख क्या रंग है तेरा मेरे आगे। Don't ask - 'How are you?' Know - 'How colourful you are!' Joining hands. Touching feet. आदाब अदब से। Cross-signing off... Beware, all I ask. Of dogs and other wild animals, especially the one of that kingly species. And they are your best friends. Friends close, enemies closer. Subtle signals. Africa's children. Xenophobia. Nana's method is the best, match the colour of the rest. रगों में दौड़ना, आँख से टपकना - Living a death. Love. Difference and Repetition. La Di Da. La Di Da. आलू का चालू बेटा कहाँ गए थे, बन्दर की झोपड़ी में सो रहे थे। कुछ नकलची बंदरों की कहानी। Civilised people fast forwarding civilisation. Morning one at office. Evening one at home. Monday to Sunday. Monday. Sunday to Monday. Nunday.

An assortment of toffees. A match box. Scratched paper. A new day. A new beginning. The Sun also rises. Me, myself and my tree. With thorns and flowers complete. An Ulysses. कहता सच्ची मधुशाला, अलग अलग पथ - Africa's children.

Obituary of a playboy

(Written sometime in 2017)

A playboy died today. In his memory -

I like the white one, I like the black one, I like the tall one, I like the short one, I like the big one, I like the small one, I like the curvy one, I like the straight one, I like the shy one, I like the promiscuous one, I like the smart one, I like the dull one, I like the chirpy one, I like the silent one, I like the hairy one, I like the bald one, I like the hot one, I like the cold one, I like the entertaining one, I like the boring one, I like the winter one, I like the summer one, I like the good one, I like the bad one, I like the guilty one, I like the innocent one, I like the right one, I like the left one, I like the rich one, I like the poor one, I like the beautiful one, I like the ugly one, I like the old one, I like the young one but I adore the middle one.