We wander intoxicated by life,
why must that be immoral.
There are countless others
who live by the life's shore.
They too drink the same wine.
But after diluting it a little.
After sweetening it a little.

Today we must dance, O' Saaqi.
Today we have need of two glasses, old friend.

I have brought with me
the wine of gods you see.
All that remains now
is for us to drown in this sea.

We must loose ourselves, old friend.
We must empty our souls in these cups, O' Saaqi.

They gave me answers
for the questions that I never had.
And I handed them interpretations
they couldn't swallow.

A bazaar has been setup.
A carnival rages.

Bodies, innocence.
Souls, dignity.
Laws, customs.
Love, hate.

Everything is being bought.
Everyting is being sold.

Even though we are mere beggars,
we must pitch our tents somewhere else.
Somewhere far from this accursed place.

With two more yet to go,
I was the first one they brought into town.
A face so innocent , its hard to find it in the mirror now.

So let me pop some of those pills,
and get back in the memory lane.
I will tell you of my days past ,
as this room spins out of vision.

I am the child of lost dreams
and every thing else that I can be.
As the colors brighten up now , with a smirk
smeared across his face .
I see the younger me.


Remember the dreamer he once was ,
lets me see through his eyes.
Clouds , birds , trees , my grandfather's stories;
a glimpse of what the world looked like back then .
All those fair games , its hard to understand now,
mine and his history.

I see dreams and hope ,
all the plans they had for me.
For I once was the child of their dreams
and everything else I wanted to be.

Hunger is that
which makes a beast out of the man.

Hunger resides not in the food clogged intestines.
If it does then it is a disease.

For a mere loaf of bread,
the captive of hunger must steal.
The captive of hunger must ****.

Hunger devours the pious.
Hunger erases all morals.
It leaves us fearless.
It leaves us naked.

I have been bad for long enough now.
Already I have labelled so many things
with preconceived notions.

Earlier I was mute
but now the world is dawning
unto me in a new light.

Don't make me go
back to the corners.

If you can just bear with me a while.
It will all be over soon.

The name must be forgotten
for the burden to disappear.
All that is us, hangs by a thread.
All that is us, answers to our name.

We have arrived in your city
for we heard that the sun sets here
in one of these houses.

Now we scour the streets
with a begging bowl in our hands.
We run from doorway to doorway
begging for our share of sunlight,
in search of our beloved.

All the winds have gone.
The clouds they were in a hurry.
The rain fell and then shied away.
This earth, these trees were left thirsty.
You walked in and you saw me,
half empty and in a sombre glee.
Quickly then you turned and ran away.
None of the flowers bloomed that day.
Maybe if it had rained you would have stayed.

That room stripped
of windows and doors
cannot be a refuge to shadows.

A book without name
cannot be found.

This flesh without memory
knows nothing good,
knows nothing bad.

A key kept away from the lock
looses its purpose.

They use their voice
at the behest of good reason.
After perfecting the words like edge of an spear
and marking the victims that they will pursue.
Then with ease and sincerity
they release a volley of arrows.
An arrow will pierce our flesh,
with this hope we too stand at the frontlines.

The place was dingy,
the light from the bulbs gave our vision
an orange tint.
Like the insides of a tree's bark.

There were round tables everywhere,
taken over by hearts ready to drown.
Bodies ready to feel with utomst sincerity,
feelings clogged in them since past few days.
Since forever.

Men, women,
newly blossomed teens.
All swayed with the entrancing notes
oozing from the secretive speakers,
awaiting their turns
for that sweet, sour, husky elixir.
We too dallied solemnly,
quiet in a corner
in an absolute, invisible frenzy.

Our lips smacking
at the sight
of the liquid spilling
and the froth being whisked.
We too stood by for the leash to be taken off.

We were treading along the path
without a care .
Upon entering the big square
we found everyone so merry.
Everyone in embrace of another.

We looked down and found our hands empty.
A sharp pull, an intense itch
momentarily staggered us.
Draped us in jealousy.

In respite we looked at the gathering once more,
this time more closely.
Though we could witness
an abundance of love,
of overflowing lust.
Our nostrils also caught
the putrid wafts of sorrow,
of hate, of treachery
slowly rising from these lovers.
We understood, we kept on walking.

And because she could possess nothing else
the old mistress kept all that she
despised close to her heart.

I often found her in that
room full of photographs and curses.
She would tell me stories
while we sat in the veranda.
But all that she kept from me,
all about that possessed
corner of her heart was truly
I hoped to learn someday.

What is it about us that they know,
this we have yet to learn.
Have the news of our demise reached their ears ?
Or do they still perceive us to be that crazed lover.

Let us search in the depths of ocean
that promised city of love.
Fate has denied us
the glimpse of those cajoling eyes.
To drown now we must seek another vision.

Seems to me that these glorious cities
have all transformed into prisons.
Here people lock themselves
in small cosy cages of towering high rises.

They dance inside these prisons.
They stare out at each other from inside these prisons.

Here food flows like turbulent river water
but is a grace bestowed upon those
who like themselves keep the rest captive.

Winding maze like streets
of these cities rain fire
and transform these prisoners into rabid dogs,
who then bite other dogs.

I hold no right to judge .
I too am a prisoner.
But what I see here,
makes me want to break out.
What I think is, it is time I left.
But how and from where ?

Trees stand next to each other
their shadows criss crossing and entwined.
Dogs have dug up holes and lie low
as the sauntering heat of the day slowly withers.
Night creeps in and drives the birds back to their nests.
Breeze slows down the rhythm of the leaves
dancing now to a waning song.
The day now passes into the night.

From strangers we learned
of the gifts that your voice bestows.
Lending the moon its glow.
Granting the dreams their suppositions.

Now then,
must we remain empty handed ?
You who are fashioned of golden clay, should know.
That a pious man's prayer brings forth godly favours.

A spider weaves its web
around the blossoming bud.
And there under the white ash petals,
respiring in the sweet acidic pungent
smell of the guava leaves,
the spider hides in its opulent abode.
I simply stand there jealous.
I wonder if the spider senses this.