Saturday, February 27, 2010

Suns And Rains

A lazy Sunday afternoon,
a room in a wreck,
the ventilator pouring in the hot sun
and the perspiring summer of Lucknow stays.
With clothes all over the place
and a few newspapers thrown here and there
she was trying to figure out a toughie crossword,
as she gulped down the bitter black coffee
smokes of the Marlboro lights thrown into the ash tray.
which she never smoked,
she just liked the smell and its reminiscence.
And she went into a slumber before she knew.

Closed drapes could never hide
the constant music played by the drizzle outside,
In London the rains visits everyday twice
just like the dabbawallahas home,and he smiles.
A neatly cleaned room,freckle less as he loves to keep it,
Jane Eyre is really tough to concentrate
but he still tries to read it
and the vanilla milkshake
really tastes better ,backhome somehow,
particularly if shared.

She loved the way he looked into her eyes and said.
"Tere bina zindagi se koi shikwa to nahi,
tere bina zindagi bhi lekin zindagi to nahi."
And he could never love her favourite drinks in CCD.
He always ordered for her,
saying "I'll have a chai outside
plus I desperately need to smoke."
Perhaps that was somewhere in a different world.

For her it was impossible to drink water
from the tap of his flat .
She always bought her water ,in his place,
he made faces but never argued.
Though he loved to look at her
while she was talking to her friends,
smiling,playing with her own hairs.
He never did admit it.

Then he moved
first to brussels then london,
It was because he could not see her
talking and smiling with her friends
or as she could not hear him say
looking into her eyes,"Tere bina zindagi se koi shikwa to nahi,
tere bina zindagi bhi lekin zindagi to nahi."
There friends could never know.
But they moved too.

The rain continues
and so does the boxing match
with the words of Charlotte Bronte,
"You have to read Jane Eyre to correct yourself
in certain moral ways.
It has a flavour of socialism,read it."
She said.He did.
But she never knew.

The crosswords half solved and left
would have made him laugh,a crossword wizard.
if he had seen.
If he had seen he would've also noted
the tear drop,as she was filling
Audry Hepburn as the actress born in Brussels
acted in Roman holiday,
just between the letters H and E
but how could he.

She woke up
as the radio was playing the song.
"tere bina.."
Sun had slept giving way to evening breeze.
The London rain had seized too
but the vanilla milkshake was still
nested in the mug.
Certain rains and a few sunburns hardly ever go away.

Friday, February 26, 2010

For Hope

Somewhere in that distant sea
I can see him floating but he is not me.
For his hands still are trying to float
though he still is going down the large moat.

He still is fighting there,
still trying still a player
and I just look dejected and sigh,
no he and me are not nigh.

And i pray o lord let the soul be pulled back by a wave,
he drowned he fell mayhap he was naive.
call him back for he gave a fight,
let him be saved from this unwanted plight.

I am lost,I am worn
conceded defeat am lorn,
But someone in that sea still craves to let go,
to put his feet up to fight to plow.

A View

He looked at the morning breeze
and pretended a smile,
"A nice day".He'd say
and they'd guile.

For most beauties were
never seen anyhow,
the flowing breeze,the shadow of trees,
the soothing rain,the sun field terrain.

It was just to fit in,he knew.
And when he knowingly collided
and she said that
he gleamed he had won,
he pretended to look at her,saying
"Thanks for being kind."
from now on for them
he was no more a blind.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Animal Sensations

For some emotions cannot be worded
cannot be verbalized,
for they then can never be precise,
they can be but made to know
just through the bleary red eyes.

Not even human eyes,
a sensation only for animals
a pain only for them to claim.
verses cannot be the garb
to encompass my shame.

Let me be a dogs eyes,
let me forgive,
let me be a cows soul,
let me concede.
Let me be a human no more,
no feelings I want of deceit.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Funeral Bombay

Stingy smells of morning
assorted with the saltiness of seas,
dead fishes rotten species,
breeze takes you places
you'll never want to be.

And walking through
witness the sleazy streets,
streets like people,
never please.

And she still stands with bare flesh
ready to be assaulted,
call her a woman of loose morals
or even a child misbegotted,
she is the fruit of our deeds
naked gnarl ,dead.

No the divide is untractable
and it will stay
barriers made by her sons
slowly let her ,slay.

Her sons play,
morbid Bombay lay.

Here she stands,the sordid filth engulfed,
our gateway to the world
our heads held high the masthead rise
the city to death ,hurled.

Let her die,don't moan
don't cry.Oh we are not to blame.
We did our all,our very best.
we even changed its name.

Truth,Our Times

Truth is but a right we shall endow our people with.
oh truth it will be,a little maligned a little proportionated.
True blithe,truth a myth.

Cornered,chastised and contaminated
we are people of different hues but united.
And minor killings of the minority.
Is obviously required tool for our own sovereignty.

result of our own land for them being separatist.
though we will have to fight them stone to bomb.
And we will be victorious killing our own people with aplomb.

news makes money,truth seduced.
But the forth estate is uptight more or less.
A democracy of dictatored free press.

on chauvinism,jingoism nations ride.
We are nations not earthlings.
Oh what it'll take for us being human beings.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Moving Over

Beyond all what you said
and all what it had been,
I am swell and with joy
sometimes I gleam.

Yesternight beyond moon beams,
I wandered walking aloft the hill
and I could see
a bunch of deers
grazing hopping
doing all that is dear.
The silver rays
and their merry dance
I smiled awhile more
worthier was it of all my glance.

A happy air engulfed me
and it wasn't of you,my felicity.
And I loved it ,for all I know,
I thought not of thee
but if this I could make you see.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Of Yesteryears

The only window undraped
informs me of the drizzle outside
every other drape is covering
every other source of light.

And amidst number of orphaned pages
and a solitary cup of coffee ,still you'll find me.
"The more Coffee you drink
the less of an intellectual you seem ,silly."

while bringing another cup of your special espresso.
You hollered that scathingly

And how you licked your lips thinly
while saying that and sneer
then rubbed your fingers with your lips
in a way that they resembled cloths of cashmere.

That cashmere shawl still adorns my closet,
I dare not wear it though,of course
"A shawl for you another for me ,shall wear them together."
I've lost yours.

As the rain outside abates preparing for a walk,
I fold back those pages of letters,yellow old and oil smeared.
I read them almost everyday,thinking
How you can still make me smile without being here.