Coffee

It greeted me with that smell
of brunt beans
and I did not see why the world
was in love with this dark
smooth concoction.
Weekend after week end,
I visited her in the coffee shop
and she would greet me with the same
smell, and the loss of taste.
Until that one night
when the day had worn my nerves down
and my legs felt like anchors of the Titanic.
She came to me in the glass
and with the first sip my nerves
thanked me and my body
calmed down, every thing was clear as day.

He said

"Sufferings
have become countless"
said grandpa.
How does one stay alone
when there were two
in this house?
Breathing has become
a thing to thank fate for.

Depart

Depart and leave
the smell of cardamom behind.
Leave behind
The moist gooseberry breath
let the air cave in and collapse
into a void, so that I may walk
the free streets of tomorrow
and taste the sweet blossoming past.

Elsewhere

People,
fate flings them away,
to work in similar air conditioned cubicles
and walk streets selling
alien sweets.
They stand under different skies
and stare a different faces.
While we stay right here,
our eyes full of colored dreams.

Looking Away

There is rant about the lemons,
they are all turning yellow,
and  some stay green.
The beer jugs are full of
a thousand moons
and the cars are smoking
cigars from Cuba. What we need
is a dagger in our hearts
and a thief up our alley.

Espresso Evenings

Let’s wander the streets
on calm evenings
when the  sky has become
the froth on your espresso.
things flutter away on hands
and tunes meander down cool alleys
that peek at you
from around the corners.

Badhwar Park

To my left the fish die
without water.
To my left fishermen wallow in nets,
white ethereal froth.
Above me is the sky
observing
The puddles on the sidewalk
vaporize like restless moths
under the Bombay sun.

Untitled

They are running
over blue roses
and yellow buttercups
jumping over capers
and dancing with the
blue jays in the garden by the
lake, while I prefer to imagine
the evening sky above king's circle
and scratch it till a story falls into
my waiting eyes.

Driftwood

The last drop of oil
drains out of this cosmic pickle.
The universe cracks open,
dehydrated, cranky and shrivelled up.

People head home
and cook their brocoli with
diced onions.
I like mine with garlic.

They love what the city
puts in their plates
and in their ovaries.
Each mother is raising
a well oiled dream.

Get Up

Get up and go down the aisle
turn right and find the fruit basket
pay for the fruit
to the turbaned seller,
he will give you a thousand flowers
for change, speak not,
take the change, smell it
and leave.

It will be

It will be a hundred years ago,
tomorrow when the tree
that grows out of my window
finally bursts
into its bloom.

So many a winter have passed,
it makes me weary to think
of all that comes to the mind
when I look at the smooth bark.

Let me drown the lilies
and set the plumes of gold
to dry upon this forgetful wind,
they are on fire.

Crying

Yes, my eyes are wet.
And all the sniffs I do
remind you of the times
you wronged me
and make you search,
for the thirteenth time perhaps,
of what it might be
that leaves me thus.
But it is nothing, really
Just this onion I am trying to cut.

Fried Rice

The brocoli goes in first
like virgin foam
and quickly turns a little red.

Onion(shredded)
oil, and cyan sauce follow
into the trampoline
that is this huge iron kadai.

The circus begins
as the jolly company perform
somersaults at the prodding
of a monstrous ladle.
they fly out of the vessel
and back ino it.

Clouds of salt leap into this fray
and it rains green chilly, drumstick.

Enter rice and shredded chicken,
more sauce and soya
the trampoline goes in circles
above the stove whose
burner is now a blooming flower
with blue petals.

Low Tide

Black basalt has risen
wearing an armour of
oyster shells.
Walk not over it,
for it can cut.

This is a procession
of black gods
questioning the fog
that has descended
upon them.

Wondering why they have
appeared here before
the mega-polis
and what it is that
they want.

So that they may for once
shout the slogan,
before the tide
robs them of their chance.

Slumber

My sleep is the oil
on which the eager flames
of my dreams feed.
They attack it without let,
like hungry rats
upon a large ball of meat.

The affair comes to a close
with red teeth and stained fur.
And I awake, with moist temples
sweaty palms and a swollen breath.

Riding a Bus, Hands Full

Kolhatkar's Jejuri occupies one hand
and my wallet, the other.
My back pack is not helping
the cause
as the red ratha lurches
forth
to the next shrine:strand cinema.

Every pot hole is a celestial test
and the conductor your god.
My wish is to reach that obscure
little corner of my wallet
where the change resides
and not fall face first,
on the tin below my feet
to be trampled upon by
the regretting feet who
share my fate.

Recalling

Our past infects us differently,
our deliriums are seldom understood
by others and ourselves.
We become the children of chance
like lady bugs frozen in primal sap.
With nothing to do but stare
at what remains of our future
with hardened unseeing eyes.

Closure

Let the sun,
for once, set upon
the turds of shit and
pools of urine.

Let ammonia smother
the pansy poetic fragrance,
and let all that is mine
curl around me
crackling, and hardening
like the leaves of autumn,
leaving me with the
inevitable loneliness that is life.

Losing a Tongue

I lost a tongue the other day,
with all it's primal flourish
and incendiary idiom.
It dropped of, like a rotting
banana peel.

Such disgrace, it was a wound
vomiting the pus of arrogant ideas.
but now there is silence
I can not get used to.

Growing a new tongue takes time
and fresh arrogance.
I will go look for it in the whore houses
where luscious buds harbour
the nectar that tiny tongues swallow.

The Pedestrian

Let me take a walk
like I do every night
for a little fresh air
and exercise.

Let me walk this pavement
and then that one,
let me travel in straight lines and
right angles across this city
and hear the mad stars howl
their way into the deep dark skies
to disappear
into the brightening oblivion of dawn.