I am not dismayed at pauses…
Neither at intervals
In fact, it’s the ecstatic silence between stanzas that I cherish…
I am also not dismayed at good byes
That those bound to reconnect shall…
I am the ***** who, often circles back to the beginning
Like the rain that came all unexpected
The rain that strayed out of its time
The rain that seeps longings into heart
The rain that arrived unexpected,
But not unwanted…
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 11:45 AM UTC
Dad’s messages are coming for Andy for long
With, can I say “an erratic regularity”
Not in the cryptic newgen short scripts,
But in long drawn lucid prose, down to the T
For Andy ‘with love from both Mom and Dad
Around 2019 Christmas, dad wrote about a $200 contributed to a charity in honor of Andy
A gift wrapped with all love and wishes
For a Merry Christmas to Andy
Next March, dad asked Andy whether he is watching the spike in Apple share price
A sound investment tip from dad to his son
The next message from Dad took long
He was checking whether Andy
Was watching the funeral of Prince Philip
Over these years and through those messages
I have been writing to Dad that I am not Andy
And I have been keeping the phone for long
Dad never responded to my messages
But the irregular messages for Andy
Keep popping up
To the last one on funeral
I sent a long reply sharing my name and all relevant details
Proving I am not dad’s Andy
I got a response “sorry, dad”
Sorry too signed off by DAD!
Today, after 8 months
Again I got a message
Along a beautiful countryside sunrise photograph:
“Beautiful morning, looking east. Dad”
Andy replied “so true, beautiful. I love this morning”
Oct 19, 2021
Oct 19, 2021 at 8:12 PM UTC
What do you do when you are all into yourself?
On your own, locked down, but not jailed
It’s an overall excitement of the containment in the beginning
The anxiety in finding that your routines do happen
That other’s routines also happen despite you getting locked down
Days go by and you start philosophy life
The pace and speed were unnecessary
Urge to be responsive to everything around
Even if some of it like the broken chair or the long-forgotten friend from school
do not seek your attention anymore
Weeks went by and you get this fire to rebel
Unshaven face stated the mark of a long beard
Locks started growing unruly defying combs
Stopped moving from “home me” to the “office me” for umpteen meetings over screens
Then came the revelation
The futility of fear of the unknown
And the pressure to be seen and performing
Sober and release said the inner voice
I took out the razor and shaved off the hair to begin with...
May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 12:49 PM UTC
The year opened with two full days and nights of snow
Snow that fell through my mind and body
Pulling all over me a thick white blanket,
Hiding beneath snow just changed everything
The white was so pure
It swept over the grays
Those very grays of uncertainties,
Shadows hidden behind and
Shallow forgetfulness
Then the snow started melting
And the white started fading
Bearing everything hidden under,
The dirt, the adventures, the unheard sorrows
And the certainties painted as uncertainties
As the snow gave away, Shadows turned darker
Hidden ruins from beneath
Seeped up, shapeless and characterless
Some snow had stuck to the corners
Frozen, slippery and deceitful
As I kept walking
Those deceitful frozen snow
Called me out “Hey! step on me,
I know you like getting fooled around”
I smiled and walked on,
You never got me right, my dear...
Jan 25, 2020
Jan 25, 2020 at 3:04 AM UTC
[For this title, allow me to borrow from Kundera,
“Life is elsewhere” for many, here]
I have an app that shares latest news
All stories are about the numbers
Number of terrorists killed by Military
Number of bombs hurled by Terrorists
All fighting from life elsewhere and for life elsewhere
Military that came from elsewhere countries
Terrorists that came from elsewhere countries
They together made 'life elsewhere', for the locals
For the 4-year-old little girl
World is her 2-bedroom apartment
And views from the small peephole windows
She cannot stand in the balcony
For rockets launched by Terrorists aims only destruction
She cannot go down to the play ground
For Military encounters in streets do not sight a 4-year-old
Life must be elsewhere for her
In time and space, alike
A large number that surrendered
Many who came from faraway lands
Men and women came as men and women
Some turned slaves and some families
With kids borne in nowhere lands
They all came hoping for the life elsewhere
Now their hopes dashed, they will again wait
For life elsewhere, if not in jails
Hope is in the air,
Some say it is the best moment for peace
Let there be peace for life here and elsewhere
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 4:30 AM UTC
It snowed for two nights and days
Snow covered everything beneath
I longed for snow for long, for...
The snow covered...
The thronging steps on the pathways;
The daunted breaths on the grass;
Cigarette butts and unhealed burns;
The scars left as marks forever
The snow defined a new vista
A tranquil moment frozen in space
An unblemished surf on every muddle
Snow had grown in to a deserted horizon
I pulled over the blanket of snow
Head to toe, thoughts to dreams
I liked the deserted vista of snow
Snow covered everything beneath
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 3:39 AM UTC
You may say I remembered you only when I got free off my chores
May be, you are also right, I did not wish you blissful mornings in all years, me making a life
May be, you are also right, I reached out to you, but for a common friend and an incident
But as I did, it was not remembering, but not forgetting you all these years
You cannot, not love the Premise of Love, my love!
Albeit the bitter fights we fought
In the confines of our bedroom and the courtroom
Was it parting two ways with the lightness of freeing from the heaviness of those six long years?
And when I wrote to you in just a few days that I want you back as you are my first and the best
You cannot, not love the Premise of Love, my love!
As I walked into your new abode, I knew I was sinning
It was my weakness that I could not take you along before you tied the knot
Even in that dark, cold ambience I could feel his eyes piercing my soul
Wasn’t it for love; to win you back that sinfully I shared the niceties of our togetherness
Hence, you cannot, not love the Premise of Love, my love!
It may be the humming of your favorite song or that poetry of longing
May be inundated snaps I took on the beach or the pathways
A late night re run of the movie we watched together
Or that free fall from ten thousand feet on the chutes
Memories do not fade, hence; you cannot, not love the Premise of Love, my love!
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
“Sir, this mole seems to be growing and spreading”
Suhail stopped the scissor and comb, and said
“It’s a bit grown than last month and even then, I noticed it spreading”
Suhail is my hair stylist for the last about six years
I have seen him growing from a Hair Analyst to Specialist to Senior Hair Specialist
There is something more than the generous tip that connects us
May be my willingness to abide by his experiments with my hair
Or reciprocation of loyalty that bound us every month
Surprised, I asked him, “What mole are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know the black mole on the back side of your left ear” puzzled Suhail
“You go and check with Madam, may be its my feeling only”
“How would madam know about it Suhail, she doesn’t cut my hair!”
“Arre Sir, you too!” Suhail had a vicious smile on his face
“Come on tell me” I prodded him with the same viciousness
We got into wayward pastime …
“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When you lay down on her lap in those afternoons
And she combs your hair with her fingers
And when you fall into that muddle of sleepiness and excitement
Her eyes would lock it”
“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When she comes from the back as on paws of a cat
Hugs and hold you tight with her hands
And press her face on your shoulder
Her eyes would lock it”
“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When those drenched lips move away from your lips
And the craving teeth leave a hickey on that earlobe,
Her eyes would lock it”
Suhail finished the haircut and I left tipping him as usual
The drive back home searched through the labyrinths of memories
Of caressing fingers, tight hugs and hickeys
Why didn’t she mention that mole, ever?
“Honey, you never told about that Mole,
Come on, let me see and let’s go to a Dermatologist quickly
We can’t take these things lightly; the doctor may even suggest a biopsy
Biopsy is fully covered in your mediclaim, isn’t it?”
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 11:30 AM UTC
That journey from Morgue was hardly an hour and a half
But my travail took me through thirty years,
Holding his cradle tight, lest to wake him up from that eternal sleep
As he was laid in that ambulance all dressed up for his final journey,
He looked the smart, tall "Chettan ", unlike the child I tended a month back
Forlorn in some early childhood shores, courtesy the Alzheimer's
A bump ahead on the road shook the ambulance and me from my thoughts
In a reflex, my hands went to hold him from falling from the cradle
An eerie chill went through my spine, he was ice cold- the body was in Morgue for long
Water soaks through his new shirt, ice melts in the outside heat
“Chettan” who stood so tall for you to always looked up to…
Who came with abundance in his back pack every Friday
With his Murphy radio playing melodies deep in to the nights
With his cloak work precisions for breakfast to dinner times
With his grins and growls that moved the moods of “Chechi ”
Have you ever tried to feel a body from the morgue?
An ice cold, motion less, sensor less body
That moment and the eerie chill is a revelation
Death is so penetratingly cold
That you wish you don’t have senses to feel it anymore
Ambulance halted at the large assemblage of mourners
I stepped out, a furious movie flash back playing in that ‘space within my heart’
He laid there- ice cold; waiting to be escorted, to the pyre;
With that space within his heart gone to a void, unwittingly
- all rights reserved
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 5:03 PM UTC
"There is something in you"
"Do not tell me it's the state of my mind that
Crave for meaningful commitments
Do not tell me, our doors are mutually exclusive,
That cannot open to same pathway"
I am in the make and modes of that solitary *****
Who does not know what is the gift of the given moment.
Who does not know whether the next breath is life or not having it anymore.
I am the ***** living life on the edges when not in the fringes!
With desultory realms of engagements,
Let me avoid that growing sarcastic curve on your face
When "my passions are flimsy"; why define the adulations any lower!
So my 'distant untouched enigma';
Do not be dismayed at this callous, rantings of mine;
I have done with many futile 'serious' talkathons...
Ignore me as a silly, frivolous thought
Flew in and darted away in an afternoon siesta
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC