crises!

here and there

keys and scratches
punctures, closed doors
candle heat, misfit
broken glasses, a stick....

chair, ballot box
pamphlets, slogans
pandals and speakers
slippers in flight....

carbon, soot, brown lands
black water, green water
city for king-kongs
man-made mountains....

a rubble, reversed symbols
gas chambers, water boarding
orange flag, red flag
flesh painted red....

bed of rocks blanket of air
cow's urine to wash hair
search in gutters of 5 star hotels
the untouchable green paper....

a crying baby,
a crying baby,
a crying baby,
a crying baby,

Subtle nuances

I find you between the tic and the toc,
in the pauses of countenance,
between halts and resumes,
spaces that separate words ,
camouflaged by white lilies,
sometime as trailing ellipsis,
between flints.
Free of language, you talk, 
flirt with unnoticed moments,
like water and alcohol
Anonymous with no citizenship.
 

Me

Think of me as a rose or mimosa
an omnibus or magnum opus
a swing may do more justice
than the colours of wind
a surreal landscape may tickle your fancy,
like the Japanese cherry tree
I may not be what you see
magnet, amoeba, lotus leaves
or a swarm of bumble bees
perhaps a mirror would do better
to describe me.

Pray, do not...

Isn't it easy to escape just by saying 'tata' 'gn'
leaving the conversation unended,
words unspoken?
Do you not realize how I ride with you
up and down the mountains, catching every
stone you throw?
How can you not recognize the things
which have injured me so,
that people refuse to laugh at it?
Have not your prudent thoughts ever warned you?
What blinds you to allusions?
Are you pitying me for the state I have come to?
Do not, do not, pray, do not degrade me any more.
I can barely face the insults, thrown at me in public,
by the one whom I adore to the core.

surreal

dream in dream, fancying a dream
i wake up to sounds of real life... 
only to realise that i am still asleep
dreaming a dream, fancying a dream of real life.
:)

I can not

I can not hold can have no control
over the passing time which pushes every act
into memory so ethereal, so abstract, so surreal
that even language shies away from its description.
I can not describe can think of no words to write
of the weird feeling I get to breathe in same air
to walk on same soil with young heart and thoughts
where once you resided. I can not get past the loss.

Dead submission

You breed silence and stillness,
to punish the shouts, confessions
of blood and body,
of you and me.
I hate the dirt, which you give me
at night, which I try to wash off,
which shines with guilt
which paints my flesh which crawls on me.
I am shy of your equilibrium
shy of your eyes staring at me
as I stand naked in pouring rain
as you watch the droplets run over me.
I will still submit to you silently
when you want me
for your resistance, for your luxury.
Then. You can have all pieces of me.

Kyriarchy

Unlike the triangle of food chain, there is no definite hierarchy when it comes to kyriarchy. Everything is topsy turvy or circular rather, with no bottom or top, with no creature on the edge. Every one has at least two degrees of connections. I see kyriarchy in action everywhere, ever since I have learnt about it. What brings a person to dominate? Position, strong emotions, physique, knowledge, talent, money, color,  normalcy? Similarly, what obliges the other to submit? Tolerance, lack of commitment, lack of integrity or self belief? Why is it so prevalent in nature? Is kyriarchy a result of conscious effort? Do we see it in action amongst animals also? There are definite and logical reasons if we were to identify any such things in animals. The stronger ones and the ones greater in number have always had advantages over the weaker and the single ones. What makes us different from animals is our conscience which we consciously use to exploit the weaker forms. Sometimes society itself creates groups which then play roles of oppressors and the submitters.

We are intolerant. We mind. We dislike. Our hubris overrides equality. We see it happening all around us and so we become conditioned to do that. We love power. We love to be on the top. We like to be superior always, in everything we do. We can never get rid of it. Can we?

One thing we surely can try (whenever possible) is to try to bust it every time our conscious and righteous mind encounters it.

Thingies

I see them in the malls, streets,
my room and on my body.
Those snakes lie still. Hibernating.
In baggages, on desks, shelves
their whisper - a mocking hiss.
The bourgeois, wannabes are
fancying their scales.
What an absolute vanity!
No bones but still definite
in their shape and purpose.
They dis-ease you.
How am I to get rid of them?
My skin itches for I am dis-eased.

Your desert

When you refused to water the plant
it turned pale and dry
Leaves fought brightness,
the roots - soil life.
Left in one corner. There.
to decay to die to self-destroy

But soon fell the first drops
who started colouring it -
green, brown, pink,
yellow, blue, white, red....

Now the world behind your back
blooms with joy.

Birth

I am born - to a sinking rhythm
which opens my inside -
thrilled, excited, grounded,
restricted, unfurled, possessed.
Like countless mechanical beats
it breathes endlessly -
inhale-exhale, inhale-exhale
inhale-exhale, inhale-exhale..
I can neither wait nor explode
for it burns with fierce constancy
first my lungs then my heart
then my whole body and brain
Bring me the luggage,
the shame
i need to get back
i need to take birth. Again.

Red Addiction

Addicted I am to your fragrance,
your soft, compelling body,
tender touch - skin-to-skin, lip-to-lip,
to your bold and faint
pleasing velvet and cold kiss.
I float on bed to feel you,
become you. One color one thought.
slow, slow, slow O Rose!
Hold me in your arms forever...

An inspiration

And on the formal day I saw you
though a brief meet
my admiration knew no bounds...

beautiful mind, plain clothes,
strong ideas, humble voice,
language - like a flowing river...

"An ordinary Indian
with extraordinary capabilities"
you earned a hundred badges...

a handsome scientist,
romantic poet,
thoughtful humanitarian,
guide, friend, an inspiration...
and other times - just a -
"reliable white haired praani"

the list is endless...
and my admiration knows no bounds...

Should I thank, pay respect,
feel honoured or just be glad?
I do all....

Eradicate

In a shrunken world
on the foothills
lives a restless granny
Kill her with a huge stone
you need to.
A rash driver, she crushes
dreams. Punish her
for greater a crime
of murdering your mind.

i expect you

i expect to see you
when i'm outside
expect you to see me
noticing you with fixed eyes
but you come never!
to place we belong

Your eyes

Cold is the ocean at night
Ice amongst ice is still colder
Coldest I find are
your eyes - the hollow mirrors
the white canvases,
dried, numbed, stoned
colder than ever!

A tribal woman

I know how beautiful you are
That black and white photograph of yours
Has earned a million likes.
You were unknown to me until one day,
When I stumbled upon your picture.
You donned those heavy metals
Made by yourself in the furnace
Your eyes were fearless yet calm
Accepting fate with pride in mind
Your sun tanned skin had its own story
Which kept your shaved head held high
That very instant, when I saw you,
You gave me a note of womanhood.
How complete I feel watching you!
You, O Tribal Woman!

To the land who breathes and bears

Who are you? I dare ask
Who stripped you off your
vibrant yellow robe?
Your hollow eyes and still feet
Tell me that you are ill
Your arms are stretched apart
Weeping in silent acceptance
Is there an invisible cross beneath you?
Why do not you scream in agony?
Mother....scream, will you?