Questions?

Seven seas? An ocean?
Twelve thousand miles?
How far am I now?

Where from though?
From where 'I' began?
Or the ephemeral 'we'?

Do you falter mid-thought a-times?
Do you too hear it in the air?
Loss, misery, memory?

So many speckled questions?
A basket of tropical fruit in sand?
Drops of rain in dry desert-storms?

And the answers unreachable?
To me of course, but to you too?
Aren't they facets, of one glittering diamond?

Do you know why it glitters so loud?
Why it bluntly blinds the mind's eye?
Should I say the secret out loud tonight?

Answer?
Alone....
Utterly alone.
The answer too, stands alone.


Black bitterness?
Did it have to color memories of you?
Could 'we' not have been dear departed?

Like begets like?
So shall I reap?
What verse shall I sing?

In this random blabbering,
Could I but pluck a memory,
Plum, ripe and fragrant...
And freeze it into an icicle,
To safe-guard in my heart.

Could I but (somehow.... anyhow)
Like glazed cranberries,
Preserve a memory, pure, of 'us'.

Could my verses begin to rhyme again?
Or I cease to write?
So that forever 'we' could be...
Immortalized in eternal time
Orchestrated in flawless rhyme.

Could I but stop finding all over,
Another question to question my questions.
Could I but find an answer once,
To answer the helplessness of my answers.
I would sieve my soul through pearly filter-paper
And leave my bitterness like dregs in a pot.


Feb 11th, '09.

To the Ones Who Know :)

Blue, yellow, purple,
Aqua, bronze, cranberry.
Endless lights, peeping, from behind
Floating wisps of frosty snow clouds
Welcome me, to this land of plenty.

In seven inches of foamy snow,
In two-block long shopping malls,
In abundant garbaging of foods,
I found -
Things I didnt know...

Luscious strawberries, a whole pound.
I never knew bananas could grow
Over one foot long.

That on a white cotton shirt
("Anne Klein", oh my!)
I would ever spend
God-forsaken Rs. 6000.

Warm water, two feet deep.
I never knew how weightless
Being weightless would feel.

That a valentine red coat
("Nine West", oh my!)
Would innocently support
A "MADE IN CHINA" tag.

Human sea, endless; fathomless.
I never knew how different
A sea could be from another.

That the moon, oval and gold
("Universal", oh yeah!)
Would look quite the same
From 11th floor of Club Quarters.

In this land of plenty,
I found too,
Things I knew...
Things I'd always known...
Things I'd always know...

Blocks of concrete,
Mounds of chocolate,
Aisles of jewelry,
Long racks of clothes...
Please my wondering eyes,
Coz in my tiny heart I fold,
Some memories to be shared...
In the eye of my camera, catch
Some photos to be mounted...
In every passing moment, breathe
The prayers of some people...

My dear family, "I love you".

Feb 9th, 2009.


Dedicated to my parents, siblings and dear bhanja.

First Day in New York

Impromptu, inspired, my fingers flow
As I see, across a silver window
A red cardinal fluffing in white snow
Amidst a novel, alien, frosty glow.

I shall wish soon, of a long lost dream
Upon the first snowflake kissing my brow.
Then unwrap my folded hopes in honey cream
And let them soak the sweet, albeit slow.

I am no Anglophile,
I am no pro-american,
I am no BCP,
I am no ABCD...

A dreamy dreamer
Just a dreamer...
In an alien land
Of alien dreams,
I seek to define,
I seek to divine,
The will of my heart
The heart of my will...
In the soft snow,
In the crunching leaves,
I shall find fluttering
My few dreams,
they might find wings to fly...
I shall set them free.

Jan 18th, '09.

Unseen

Walk beside me, stranger
Close, Closer...
So as time goes by, our drooping shouders,
Kiss - in the hazy streetlights.
I will show you laughter
In the twinkle of an eye.

When the quarter moon rides, stranger
High, Higher...
And in our flimsy muslin pajamas, cold creeps up,
Recondite - in late January nights.
I will show you misery
In the stealing of a gaze.

I might walk on clicking heels, stranger
Loud, Louder...
When our speckled thoughts rise, stealthily mingle,
Quiet - in Orion's blinking starlights.
I will show you hope
In the flicker of a matchstick.

Walk within me, stranger
Deep, Deeper...
When our lonely selves assimilate into a superior, singular, terrible
Solitude - with its self-constructed rights.
I will show you fear
In the hollow of my hand.

For the night, tonight, is bleak... and long.

January 7th, 2009.
23:30 PST

When the lights are out…

On dark December nights
A pale, demure, waxing moon
Sits like a patiently begging bowl
On the western roofs of Mayo hospital.

Eastwards, Orion leans awkwardly
Over the shallow gothic arches
Of the weather-beaten, crumbling facade
Of the centennial “Gharri wali building.”

Dark, within and without…
Candles – flickering here, there.
Little ones, throwing light – far…
An imago of the starlit skies above.

Frost, like a baby bamboo shoot
Grows up – through my heels,
As I stand – Dreaming…
Wishing upon a lone, esoteric
Shooting star -
Winking secretly
Just at me.

For a brief lasting moment –
Peace – within me,
Pervades.

Jan 1st, ‘09.

An Old Man

He must have loved them much,
His children, his innocent wife.

Through rising, running, rippling tears,
his pain translates to flowing waters,
where softly, like sea-foam, float -
the memories of his past,
slowly, out to nothingness.

A fish fresh out of water,
he still flaps his slippery fins
groping for warmth - tepid coastal waters.
His rhythmic dance of slow death
has now,
carried him on wearied legs
to some mirages -
some wounded healers
carrying flaking placards
of some mistaken nobility.

He with his tried tears,
pours out again
his withered heart,
into unwilling palms,
shrinking surreptitiously
from his wizened countenance.
He curses in mumbled words,
(wrath of hellfire)
his ungrateful son.
Kisses the few kind words
(with flowing tears)
spared his way.

In the unblemished mirror,
of his lonely sorrow -
I see reflected,
me, him, all.

We are,
He is,
I am -
all, dreadfully alone.

Dec 21st, 08

No More, The Moone?

In purple loneliness,
many a-times,
when searing -
my heart throbbed,
split asunder...

In opal faithlessness,
coining rhymes,
when screaming -
my eyes sobbed,
rain, thunder...

I scarce conceived,
ever,
in splashes of crimson pain -
that inured
my bruised heart
would fold insidiously
in neat starched layers
its flightless entangled wings.
That it would cease to care,
enough.
That it would learn to live,
without loving,
enough.
That it would hunt, even scavenge,
in search of warmth,
just enough.
That it would hurt no more.
No much more.

Listless, O so listless,
once a vagabond,
this wandering gypsy -
squatting tepidly,
has shaken off colors,
all gaudy apparel.
It dances no more.
No much more.

Lifeless, O so lifeless,
once an wayfarer,
this vagrant troubadour -
speculating insipidly,
has abandoned pied pipes,
torn all manuscripts.
It sings no more.
No much more.

How, but How, O December moon?
Not having moonlight -
hurts no more.
No much more.

This apathy annihilates me,
In my own blood
I drown.

Dec. 13th, '08.