And The Becoming

Once you lived between the bed covers  And in the touch so cunningly naive  In the shallow breaths and faint smiles You lived hidden in me in the plain sight In the songs And the colors we picked  You lived hidden in me  Through all the unwarranted nights  But now you live in my unspoken words  In every skipping beat of the heart  Not in the light and in things of present  We still live in me buried in the pile of time 

What’ll I do when magic fails to stall, When sand will slip, and night will fall. When remembrance of that night fades, Staff will break, and spells will be waste.   What’ll I do when I fail to recall your face, When lights will go out, and heart will race. Something felt like love makes an escape, Chants will die, and nothing will brace. 

Hiding debris of wicked lies Repainted acts in colored stripes Suckling bosom of rotten dye Repaired fractures in tainted time Feeding worms to emptiness inside Relapsed again on unforgiving ride Peeking through cracks in the blind Rebirthed naked fright that night Breeding holes in the lust sublime   Entwined selves smeared with grime Smothering dry with hands fragile Estranged bearing dripped in vile

Restlessness endeared a faint smile, Smile embellished the sleeping eyes. Eyes conferred the longing sight, Sight where you and I chat tonight.

The floating boat on the seashore, Pieces of paper brought from home. The bus rides to the morning school, And, fading of faces along the road.    Holding memories of those days, And, trying to keep the visions safe. I witnessed all that and much more, In your eyes and the stories, you told. Soon, an intimacy grew in the remote, Even in the silences we began to emote. Unspoken feelings entwined in the tales, Dreamt for a house built of glass panes. Simplicity which you wear with pride, And things you hide with rolling eyes. Naked words for sure would cost a dime, But, wrapped in wink only cast a smile.

Fictitious melody charms and fright, While, celestial bodies circle the night. Fiona’s music enchants the mind, A paper bag is all that’s left behind.  The flaming lips make you realize, Unknown breaches the road familiarize. But what’ll I do when magic fails to stall, When sand will slip, and the night will fall. (11/6/2016)

Sleeping inside her impermeable walls, She grew accustomed to the limiting blocks. Living at the edge of an imperfect world, He strangled his dream for someone’s tear. Growing outside the realm of the known, I had to embrace darkness as one of my own. Questions led her to search beyond the walls, And risking her being only could save from the fall. Emotions swayed him to trade off his smile, And in effect he was slicing pieces from his life. Dejection made me surrender to the dark lord, And I was a prisoner living on a two-edged sword. Reasoning, resigning and reminiscing remained, Marking the hollowness of their unbounded pain. There were fractured signs of the weary thoughts,    Fading-away memories of battles fought and lost. These were three lonely squirrels in the forest,            Bare-skinned they searched for a shaded spot to rest.  

Half-lit lights on the empty lane Blur vision with a salted taste Bare chest and folded hands Blue pants soiled in the sand Faint smile and eyes so moist Besiege by that blissful voice Fingers entangled in others Smell warmth as I move close Taste of the saline on your lips Touched cords inside that ring Waves stood as alibi to the time That night you were only mine

An offbeat tune of an unsung song was whispering in my ears. Wacky and crazy as it was, it rendered some embellishment to a dead site which until few weeks was just an ordinary house. The tune was echoing pangs of agony and despair, clubbed with an absolute sense of alienation with my own being. I was getting consumed by this vast emptiness that comfortably had spread itself in the house. With each passing moment my sanity was getting compromised, leaving behind a meaningless existence at the brim of its decay. Uncertainty of time and day seemed liberating to this obsolete lump of flesh which continued moving into an elusive blankness. An intricate work of fainted lines was surfacing on the skin, while my mind was still held captive to the new design. Notions, reasons and ideas no longer were allowed to cross the barricade. Faith in the end slipped away from the hand, and hope instead argued its way in. This hope which grew in the land of destruction only could have thrived in the da...

She was certain of the time but no way could have been certain about the fate that was yet to unfold. Past the grounds of reasoning, logic, or calculation, imagination alone was her guide on this journey. There was neither confusion nor fear; but another feeling of a distinct taste was building up inside her. This time she was more rehearsed and had paid attention to the minute details in rectifying errors made in the earlier attempts. There was little time to pack her reminiscences from the past, and incidences from the present. Aware of the heaviness of this baggage she could have easily chosen to leave all of this here. Yet, decided otherwise. Without her experiences of her being, there was no becoming. Sitting by the window Kalsi was staring into the vast empty grounds, scantly inhabited and strikingly silent; and the row of tall eucalyptus trees along the street swayed gently towards their right. In the field, lone stood a painted wall bordering a construction site with piles of...

The eighty-eight crystal pieces beamed together in concurrent circles, hanging from high-rise ceiling. Fine threads of colour inter-woven in intricate and appealing ways decorated the edges and bordered the top. In a mysterious way the small opening at the apex - allowed the rays to reflect from the crystal onto the many glass lamps positioned in the hall-way. Orange, yellow, and maroon chimneys of the lamps resting on the silver metallic body guarded the flame and casted coloured shadows onto the opaque floor. The faint fading colours from the chimneys blend into many shades, giving a life-like appearance to the immovable objects. The dark-red bordered silk cloth innocently paved the way for the calligraphic verses from a hymn on an off-white base, framed in glass, adorned the right wall. There I was sitting alone on a yellow teak-wood cushioned couch in this enchanted hall. Beside me, there was a large porcelain vase with blossoms of blue and purple orchids neatly coordinating with...

I woke up at the knock on the door. There were three knocks at irregular intervals. There was the first one, plain and simple, and then the second, within a fraction of a second, similar to the first one, a bit hurried though; then a long pause. The pause continued to grow intense and longer, almost enough to engulf the previous two sounds. And then it came, bolder and louder. It had a distinct feel to the sound. Panicky and alarming.  I waited for the fourth one. By now, I had watch in my hand; counting the time lap, between the last and the one expected. Silence continued, and so does the wait. But didn’t I mention, there were exactly three knocks, the forth never came. I was disappointed. I really wanted to hear the fourth knock, and record the intervals. I could have used this data for building some hypothesis, on knocking and time lap; and its significance to urgency. I was so disappointed that I didn’t feel like checking on the door but then, what about the curiosity buildi...

He was staring at the face sitting opposite to him on the dinner table, a familiar and well-remembered face. For last twenty-one years he had seen this face, but of course today it looked different. There were these sharp markers of time on it and he wasn’t sure how many times this face must have changed from the one he thought he remembered from their first meet. Maybe it changed every day but he never noticed it till now; the distinct aspects of that change. For one thing, the colour of the eyes remained the same, but then the association had changed. He tried really hard to imagine how she looked when they met for the first time, she must have been young, with no grey hair or blemishes. He really wanted to see that face for one more time, but there was no remembrance of it anymore. He was desperately trying to dig into the grave of memories to give life to his imagination. Well, it was only imagination that could save him now, after a long time of strangeness, memories only br...

I see these worn out faces, Dried and some still wet Chocking shrieks of loss, Numbness in their voice Not bonded by blood Or show of any pretence, But Delicate colored strings, Evoking a stronger bond Smell of spirit and sanitized floors, suffocating and stifling. The hall was full of saddened faces; despaired and disheartened. Some had hope, and for a few, it was buried a long ago. Patience, time, emotion, space, everything was at a stand-still. There were long queues, and the sitting area was crowded by patients and their relatives. Nauseated. Yes, nauseated was I in the midst of these people who were either hanging on to hope, or were preparing for the journey of letting go. Life and death had a thin line dissolving every minute. And, here were ‘her’ people, sitting in one corner of the hall, waiting for her body. She was a partner to one, guru to a few, leader to many and a friend for a lot of those who were waiting there to say their last goodbyes. I knew her for...

Balancing my being on the rope I walk One end buried to the sedimentary rock Other tied to Kafka’s metamorphic form But with my blinds on I continue to walk Knocking at every door of uncertainties Stifled ways and wrenched meanings Nauseating reasons often haunted this path But with my blinds on I continue to walk Searching eyes found no sign of peace Empty stomach where void starts to breed Your absence shadowed me at every step   But with my blinds on I continue to walk

Unwoven in reminiscence of earlier days Threads with intricacies of pleasure and pain Faded, torn and marked by seasons of age And subtleties of the fabric often unchanged                                  Unmatched metal frame on the tainted wall Rusted string holds the picturesque thought Reflections from the memories and thoughts Cast upon the delicate womb of the unborn Unknown facet of what the future may hold Hidden beneath the surface of blazing hope Withstand the weather of separation and loss Your absence in the chronicle of road unfold

Sitting in a room full of people Smiling at faces known and unknown Hiding face and escaping glances Craving to disappear once more Always short of words to speak If only nothingness had a vocabulary No more searching of meanings No more exchange of thoughts No more validating the hypothesis No more reasoning the basics She was chained at her own will In a facility built much far away Her body battled with the necessities While her mind loitered in a full wave Away from the customary greetings And at much distance of false hopes No more pretense of performing No more arguing this existence No more accounting of vacuum No more articulating this emptiness

I am sitting in a corner of my room, hands around my folded legs. I feel tired and weary. The walls are closing up, and the room continues to shrink. I am not worried about the space to walk or move or lie. I haven’t slept or walked in a long time. I continue to sit like this, conscious of my existence clubbed with that thing. There is a snake in the room entwined on the curtain rod. It keeps staring at me from the top, and makes that ‘hiss-ing’ noise. Once it used to be my room, and I have slept here with eyes closed. But now I am disturbed with its presence. This snake has been here for long too. It was a gift from a traveler. I found it scary then also, but it was rubber snake then and kept lying in a corner. But the scales on it are really old; it doesn’t seem to be part of my décor any more. It was never welcomed here. It hasn’t bitten me so far, but nonetheless it threatens me all the time. It gives me those scary glances. I can’t sleep nor move; I am conscious of its presence ...

आज   समाँ   में   कुछ   नए   रंग   बिखरे   से   थे   हाथों   में   हिना   का   रंग   निखर   के   आया   था   रोम   रोम   गुनगुना   रहा   था   कह   रहा   था , ' यह   रात   फिर   ना   आएगी ' ' यह   हसींन   महफिल   फिर   यूँ   न   सजेगी   थोडा   गुरूर   था ,   थोड़ी   शरारत और   क्यों   न   हो ,   नथ   उतरने   कि   रस्म   जो   थी   आँखों   में   जन्नत   के   ख्वाब   थे   धड़कन   में   कुछ   कशिश ,   ज़ुबा   पर   ख़ामोशी   थी   और   दिल   में   किसी   के   आने   का   इंतज़ार   हर   तवायफ   कि   तरह   मुझे   भी   इश्क़   न   करने   कि   इदायत  दी   गयी   थ...