July Rains in Mumbai

This is not a love poem.....

It does not speak

Of the spontaneous

Promises

Of unsuspecting lovers

enticed

by the romance

created

by the July rains

of Mumbai.

It does not speak

Of sugarcane

Squeezed

Till it’s drained

And maybe bitter,

It does not speak

Of sugarcane

At all.

It speaks of tea

Hot, boiling, spiced tea

With buffalo milk

Served as ‘cutting chai’

In small thick glasses

In the footpaths

Under makeshift shelters

Of blue plastic.

Tea

That somehow tastes

Of  Bliss.

It speaks

Of railway stations

Mud-stained and slippery,

Saturated

With people

Dripping of sweat

And umbrellas

Dripping of the fresh remnants

Of the morning shower;

And an array

Of pungent smells.

It speaks of politics,

And cricket scores,

Exchanged

In the sanctity

Of the ‘paan’ shop

And of balancing

On tip toes

In crowded buses,

Clutching on to plastic bags

(and patience);

Where

Those certain men

Devise

Unique ways

Of shoving a dripping umbrella

Against

A lady’s thigh

Secure

In the uncertainty

Created

By the sudden jerks

And the balancing act.

It speaks of rows and rows

Of makeshift dwellings

Built

By scraps and pieces

Of tin,

Polythene,

Cardboard,

And human will

Along the railway tracks

Submerged till roof

In  flood.

Of mudslides

Killing the homeless,

And slum children

Splashing

In unconcerned bliss

On the muddy puddles.

It speaks of vows

To change

The ‘bloody system’

Over soggy ‘vada pavs’

And of ‘antakshari’

Played

In the ladies’ compartment

Of the 7.43 local;

Of eve-teasers

Whistling

At young girls

Draped in wet ‘dupattas’

Hiding behind college files;

Of loud music

Pounding

With the rain

Inside

Throbbing ‘autos’

Draped in plastic curtains.

It speaks of sudden headaches

And aspirin

For those with migrane

Like me.

This is certainly not

A love poem

For I would trust love

Only in the chill of winter.

This is a poem of ordinary folks,

Of you and me,

Of winners and losers,

Of survivors.

This is a poem

Of courage,

Of purpose,

Of laughter,

In July

When it rains.

This is a poem

More desperate

And

More impatient

Than  love.

This is a poem.....

.......Of life.

Expression

There's so much
that is unsaid,
in this world.

If all the thoughts
in our minds
were to find expression,
they would form
a dance
of wild harmony,
of grace,
and energy,
and rhythm .

They would wipe out
the painful silence
inflated with the foul breath
of monsters.

If I could only tell you
what I feel,
if you could only hear
what I will not say,
there would be cool rippling springs
flowing
freely,
and weeds won't rot
in the stagnant pond
of our own restraint,
and decay.

A Lamp Was Lit

Somewhere
in the dark bowels of the earth,
in a cave
primitive,
secret,
a lamp was lit.

Its light
like curious hands
touched,
felt,
poked,
unwrapped
centuries of sleep
from the hidden crevices,
the bare walls,
the slippery fungus,
the ashes,
the layers of dust.

and rekindled
the fire
that had burnt out,
leaving behind
latent potency...
wrapped
in ignorance.

In Expectation

Can you feel it

Coming?

Shut out your thoughts,

Gather your faith,

Listen;

Can you hear it,

Now?

Breathe in

Freedom,

Breathe out

Love.

Hold out your hand

Feel the touch

Of the incredible;

There is no hide and seek,

No conspiracy.

This time

Its yours

For keeps.

Just believe...

Look up

Focus

On the scraps of sky,

Amidst the concrete.

Weave it together

With your will,

Wrap it around your soul,

And mine.

Its happening

Can you feel it

Now?

Nature has paused,

To rest

In the folds

Of your mind.

Life is waiting...

Look

Can you see

The New Sun

Rising

To herald

The Miracle?

Can you feel it

Breathing?

The Last Dance (dedicated to Cayman)

I skip

through the day,

watching

light and magic play,

doing all that I would have done

anyway......

Paying the bills,

buying the bread,

reading stuff

a song on my head.

Smiling bravely

when reason fails;

the toast burns,

my baby wails.

I wait for evening

to cross the street,

where the jukebox plays..

got a friend to meet.

Through night and day,

and come what may;

that’s the place

to be...

Someone special

waiting there

And well...

he’s promised the last dance

To me.

Perception

Maybe

It was the

Shadows

Of the tired night

That played games

With

My eyes

Or maybe

I was searching

An image

To embody

The restless volcano

In my mind.

For he stood there

Outside

My window

Under a street light

Prowling

And as i stared

Terrified

Through

Half open blinds

In a semi-dark room

I saw him

The Predator.

I sat motionless

On the floor

Concentrating

On the silhouette

Outside

Seeking

A tangible expression

To my fear

While he looked

Intensely

Sinister.

He could have been

A murderer

Lurking

In the dying breath

Of a wounded night.

I stared in horror

Throwing

All my hatred

And my hurt

Till

The image outside

Breathed

Evil

And i withdrew

In repugnance

Blanking

My mind

Of all the thoughts

Imprisoning me.

The first inevitable sounds

Of dawn

Woke me

From my reverie

The milkman whistled

As he cycled by

And

The pure nascent rays

Of a new day

Stroked

The fresh guileless face

Of an youth

Smiling

To himself

As he read the morning paper

Outside

My window.

Insight

I look behind to trace the way,

That I have traversed to this day.

I feel the love, I feel the pain,

Sunshine flirting with the rain.

In the crowd I walk alone,

Some faces known, some unknown.

I seek the hearts where I belong,

Shrug the others and walk along.

I hear a silent, deafening scream,

The careless murder of a dream.

I chase some thoughts gone astray,

Then sing a note and walk away.

A faded value, a mellowed pride,

Somewhere down, I toss aside.

A faith preserved to fulfil...

An intense prayer, a virgin will.

The gentle curve, the sudden twist,

Bring me to an endless mist.

I gaze ahead, and what I see

Is a changing vision called destiny.

I see a light in the mess,

And feel an invisible caress.

I shake my head and look around,

Someone lost or yet to be found?

Then all at once by divine chance

The waves beckon to join their dance.

The gentle swell, the high, the low,

The rhythm cajoles, and then I know ...

Time or space there has been never,

Between this moment and forever.

I hear the heartbeat of the earth,

The raison d’être of my birth.

I celebrate with the stars above,

Life and death and joy and love.

Strangers of the Night

Like voyagers we sail

On parallel ships...

With fear,

With courage,

Through intense heartbreak,

And esoteric bliss;

Across

The same ocean,

Unfathomable,

Mystic,

You and I

Strangers tonight,

Soul mates since time

Unknown.

Bonded

By a thousand defeats,

Surviving failures

For

That single triumph;

We died

We lived

We fell

Then rose

Like a phoenix

Through centuries

Of deception,

And trust.

The stars are smiling

In amusement,

The wind whistles

An ancient tune,

Passing lights

In the distant horizon...

Share our silent song

In tribute

To life

Untouched

By death.

Strangers of the night

You and I,

With lessons of blood

Behind us;

And yet by a will

Acute,

Unknown,

We glide in harmony

Like lovers...........

.................yet to meet.

Essence of Love

Laughter – shallow, tired;

Murmurs, smirks, whispers

Opinions, claims,

Vain pity of the self

....predictable.

Mirrors mocking mirrors,

Gulping down the horizon;

Meaningless visions

Screaming, begging

Identity.

Yet,

Embedded in life

A teasure,

Unique, priceless, divine;

Unmatched, prefect,

Proud, guiltless,

Absolute.

An offering....tender, vibrant;

A celebration....sweet, radiant;

A statement, a tribute,

A lingering passion...

Nature’s will.

Like sunshine...pure, pristine;

Nourishing, touching, bathing,

Caressing body and soul,

Unparalleled expression

Of truth.

Let us savour

The essence of love,

By your eyes talking to mine;

Your pulse, my heart,

Defying the rhythm

Of time.

After We Met

After we met

the season of flowers

poured fragrance in my garden

The swallow called my name

the rainbow arched

above my home

After we met

a mountain spring was born

Laughter flowed

down the rugged rocks

of a stern cliff

careless

in spontaneous impatience

and the novelty

of birth

After we met

the soft green grass

swayed gently

to the rhythm in my mind

the seagulls glided

playfully

above a deep serene ocean

their tireless wings

exploring

freedom

After we met

a silver crescent

flirted shyly

with a solitary cloud

while a blind boy

sat under a cherry tree

casting a spell

with his guitar

After we met

the sky

exploded

in a myriad of colours

sunshine sparkled

on the morning mist

a leaf floated in through my window

and i found life

at my doorstep

I Will Be Your Lover

I will be your lover
each time
the sparrows chirp
each time
the restless wind howls
outside your window

I will unwrap
your soul
layer by layer
let the wind blow away
the dust
and cover your nakedness
gently
with a prayer

I will whisper
all the words
that settle
like fresh glistening dew
against the backdrop
of a thirsty earth

When looming clouds
black with rage
threaten
to hurl your boat
in the wild
I will wrestle its wrath
with my mind
and guide you through the night

We will touch
thought to thought
you and me
and make love
all through the storm

I will love you
when day dies in the arms of night
vulnerably
and we will rejoice
each time
the sunflower blossoms
each time
the tides....they turn

I will be your lover....

Invitation

I will leave

the windows

open

to let in

the fresh air

along with insects

that will bite

I will leave

the windows

open

lest

the weight of bitterness

crushes me

within the stale walls

of ignorance

in the confined darkness

of a hot stifling

night

Last Night's storm

No-one heard the thunder last night

yet

it threw its fury

on the sparrow's nest

No-one saw

the lightning

tear apart the firmament

into helpless fragments

yet

it reduced

my trust

to shreds

No - one felt

the rain

lashing the earth

mercilessly

punishing

the trembling leaves

still nascent

with memories

of birth

No-one heard

the wind

scream

abuses

vacating my mind

of poetry

There was a storm

last night

and it killed me

yet

the world

remains

the same..........

Hatred

Hatred

is nothing

but a sack

of foul smelling

rotting

seeds

about to burst

by

its own weight

Indifference

Indifference

is an unmarked car

that knocks me down

and speeds away

in ignorance

leaving me

bleeding

and writhing

in pain

Truth

Truth

is a deep

intimate

conversation

with

my own self