don't call me

don't call me
I can't bear the phone ringing
it interrupts my nothingness

don't call me
I have nothing to say
no news, no gossip, no bitching

don't call me
I don't want to run down the world
say my life is in shambles
though it very well may be

don't call me
I am tired
of saying the same things
over and over again

I am tired
of hearing my own voice

bridge over

there were bridges to be built
generations abridged
many old ones to be mended
before the next monsoon

it will pour again
but no one needs them now

the other side
has crossed over the horizon

taking away
analgesic wafts
moisturised wrinkles
pendulum swings
typewriting knocks

I often see
cotton swabs from diabetic tests
a pack of cards, 52 in all
the jokers as well
smiling on
headsets, unused
sweets unhidden, neglected

sometimes I encounter
over temple bells and remote switches
an impish smile
iron will
winsome persuasion
emotional drifts
conflictual trysts

the bridge I walk on now
is another
a bridge over
stories untold
waves threatening to straighten out
struggling
losing
becoming memories

bridge over
stilling waters

these times

when the jar has been emptied
and remains so
when you lose
never to gain
when you move away
and don't get called back
when you move away
but don't come in someone's way

where seasons change
but the heart sees no spring

where there is no cosmic balance
no self regulating ecosystem
when what goes
doesnt come around

when times are not changing
when times don't remain the same
when life is not
that neat set of propositions-
direct and inverse
it is feted out to be

commitment

to seize the moment,
live it
let it course through
my being
and
let it go
to sail free
denying it anchor
to be secure
in its transience
to savour
the morning after

to be selfish
and not want to feel so

those JNU rocks

Three classmates walked through
entered unknown terrain
from the highest point
and emerged far away, as friends
the friendships gave way
the exhilaration of that walk holds

And there were kisses
In the still air of summer
and in winter, with the cold seeping through the shawl
and once, as we soaked in the rain holding each other
We meandered through those years,
looking for shorcuts, hoping it would take longer
to hit the regular road
We fought, made up and broke up

The first long conversation
with a parallel one in the head,
Is this attraction, or it is the starry night
Also, the last conversation
The stars did look on
And the planes waved a goodbye

A shared space in an unshared phase
of an old friendship
Where we sought to escape
known faces, strange looks
new faces, knowing looks
and recovered what we knew and loved
about each other

Alcoholic though I am
‘on the rocks’ has always meant something else

you have aged

there are no circles under your eyes
no wrinkles on your face
no receding hairline
no grey hair
-even on the sideburns
you haven’t put on weight
any more, that is
your lips haven’t darkened with cigarette
but then you didn’t smoke, do you now?

your smile remains serious,
the kind of smile earnest youngsters have
when they discuss big issues and write abstract poetry
you even wear that ridiculous purple sweater often

my memory lens is all scratches
(did I overuse it
or put it carelessly among other such odds and ends)
but even through the tottering lens
I can see
you have aged

it doesn’t show in the face I used to know
your age shows
in me
in my face
in my being
in the time I have traveled…since

the search is on

I
felt
thought
dreamt
blanked
broke
mended
laughed
howled
wished
pitied
sought
escaped

but somewhere along
lost the words
the search is on...

I hear about you once in a while

I hear about you once in a while
Your name leaps at me as I leaf through pages
or as I scroll through the net
I stop my hand,
but it moves, clicks on the link nevertheless
My hand is a sadist,
or is it a masochist?

Every time I wake with a thud
and in those seconds,
as I try recall why
your face appears
You blend in with every bad dream I have

What if I come across you someday
What will I say
Will I smile
Will I run away
Will I feel the same as I did the day
I turned to find you gone
leaving a conversation hanging
a slice of my past, rigged
the warmth of memory, punctured

I believe you are happy
Some people tell me so
I don’t know what to make of it
I don’t know whether I wish you were
or wonder how you could be

All I feel is numbness
I feel it every time I hear your name

Post a comment

There was a time, we could, on any issue, say with ease
No comments, that’s it, and there the matter would cease

Whats this rage now with commenting
Is it a war we are fomenting

A war of words, of sarcasm and wit,
Of ideas, of picking on every nit

(Microsoft word too wants its byte
As I am typing, it says- fragment, please revise)

Back and forth, criss and cross
In the virtual world, even a scrap gathers no moss

Doesn’t all this make life racier
Then why has my cousin singled me as a warrior

it doesn’t matter...(the other side)

it doesn’t matter
that we love each other
so much
however much

if
you don’t

hear me out
talk to me
take the time
try to understand
show you care
share in work

give me space
to do my own thing
and do my own nothing

treat me as an equal,
in deeds, not just in words

be a parent
not just the father

if you don’t value
me
us
all we have between us

you may love me ever so much
but this is what matters
our life not being thus is what shatters

and love
my love, your love, our love
cannot make up for it

love may never wear out, never die
we would perhaps be in love always

but it isn’t enough
for a life of togetherness
it just isn’t enough

it doesnt matter

it doesn’t matter if you love me still,
for I once did too

it doesn’t matter if you don’t love me,
as long as I do

what matters is the feeling
of feeling nothing at all

neither love, nor longing nor hope
or pain, hurt, sorrow

no anticipation of what could be
no anguish over what has come to be