Incomplete beauty –
a photograph of a wave –
shadow memory.

4 a.m. —
and I am the king of the world,
queen of all things feral.
I burn brighter than the stars,
a galaxy full of possibilities.
My reign eternal;
I am the only one alive
and I want to live dangerously.

Want —
with one word the light goes out,
the stars dip beyond the sea,
my crown tumbles to the ground,
I am pulled back to reality.

Back —
here and now
I rub my eyes;
feel my lambent desires die
as morning resurrects
all of my insecurities.

The potted banana tree has borne fruit.
Light, water, fertilizer,
I gave it as needed.
Every day I watched it grow.
Every day it made me happy
to see the potted banana tree
thrive,
and not just survive,
in a place it wasn’t supposed to be.

Blue bird,
every time I set you free
unfailingly, you fly back to me.
Perched out of reach
never out of mind
evermore locked in my gravity.

I know, blue bird,
the quandary of a heart
so willingly ensnared.
I remember the soothing drum
of its unquiet content.

I have longed for the keen
euphoric sting you bring
even as I banished you.
Without you
I am an empty nest.
I am so… heavy
with you.

Only I can let you go.
Only you can return to me.

When I caught the sunset yesterday
I thought of you,
Smiling at the smeared horizon,
How magnificently you would wear its hues.

You came to mind when it rained
On Tuesday, as I sprinted to take shelter
Under the awning of a flower shop.

Winter is long gone, and yet
Ever morning, I wake up to a cold bed.
Residues of hungry dreams remain
Etched on my skin.

Hot coffee, warm cinnamon rolls,
Even the smell of fresh laundry
Rouses a repressed memory –
Everything brings me back to you.

Even though a cold heart
tries to remain unfeeling,
detached,
unexpected kindnesses
and easy smiles
remind it
that the world is still a warm place.

Even though a broken heart
tries to remain wounded,
lamenting,
changing seasons
and fresh desires
remind it
not all love has to be eternal.

Even though a trembling heart
holds fears
of the unknown,
curiosity to know what lies
beyond comforting complacency
remind it
that courage finds those who seek it.

Even though a lonely heart
tries to remain stoic,
shut in,
fleeting joys,
pure and tender,
tempt it
to choose hope over despair.

Maybe I am stuck
because I am waiting to be moved.
Maybe I can move
somebody who feels stuck.  

I loop the songs I love
until I choke them of all emotion.
I stumble through words
from a million brilliant minds
searching for madness akin to mine.

Pictures, stories, art,
opinions, musings, crafts –  
I gnaw at everything for hidden meaning.

Am I even human if nothing moves me?
Do I deserve death if I never learned to live?

Spur my soul, stir my heart
you, who knows exactly what I mean.
Or hark my bemoaning  
as the graceless floundering
of unmoored ennui.

Have to forage for words that I can weave
into cogent verses that sound sublime.
Try to hatch a suitable scheme to rhyme,
strain my murky ideas through a sieve,
count syllables – my secret pauper’s peeve.
Must stop watching this TV show and climb
out of bed. Holy smokes! Look at the time!
I need to start writing now, I believe.

We call them heroes, send them to fight
armed with plastic armor, much extolled valor.
They are isolated inside the veil of gratitude,
Drafted in a terrible war they never asked for.

We call them heroes, our robust knights
who will slay the beast, shield us from its fury.
We try to forget the open secret that they were,
in fact, robbed of a choice, ****** into glory.

We call them heroes without ever knowing
the face behind their masks and elastic bands.
These worrisome times will come to pass;
meanwhile, we stay inside and wash our hands.

Who cares
if we are meant to be or not?

You like my eyes,
I like your smile.
Maybe our chemistry
will only last awhile -
You and I both know
the good things never do.
But we are here now,
so let me play a song for you.

Let us drown
in our miseries together;
Doesn't matter
if we don't have a forever.

Bring back those summers
when all I did was read books
and snooze under the noisy fan;
**** on ice pops
until my lips went numb;
gorge on black jamuns,
rolling the pits over my tongue;
listen to the radio cycling
the same twelve songs…

It was all I did.
It was enough.

I still do the things I did then –
I read,
laze around
with my earphones on,
eat what I like,
and do whatever else I want.

Yet I can’t shake the restlessness –
It’s not enough.

Summer remains the same.
I am the one who has changed.

Have faith; You must believe
what you are picks its way.
Through each setback you receive,
have faith. You must believe
there is nothing you can’t achieve.
Remember this if you begin to sway,
“Have faith – you must believe
what you are picks its way.”

I don’t remember what it was that made me stop and think about the tendency of my thinking. But I remember how I felt when I had the epiphany that I had become, of all things, a hater. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that the things I hated far outnumbered the things I loved.  

Instead of saying that I loved the night, the moon and the stars, the placid silence, the comfort of solitude, and how some flowers smell better in the evening – I complained that I was not a morning person.  

I said I detested morning breath instead of saying that I loved running my tongue over my teeth after I had just brushed them. I moaned about hot weather more than the relief I found in the shade. So many pet peeves, so many inconsequential things marred my happiness.

I despised people who were quick to judge others. I was intolerant of intolerance. Unkind people irked me. I hated it when a friend came to me to speak ill of another friend. Why choose me? I did not want to be complicit in such duplicity. But I let it happen because I knew from experience that calling out problematic behaviour, especially with the people you know, serves no purpose other than souring your relationship. So, most of the times, I tried to simply extricate myself from the situation without engaging. But I fumed. I fumed about my powerlessness. And I hated the fact that despite loving them, I couldn’t like some people in my life.  

I used to joke about not knowing what I want in life but being sure about what I didn’t want. But I noticed too late that I kept adding to one list while ignoring the important one.

Now, I am trying to unlearn this rigid worldview as I grow. I am choosing gratitude for the good things in my life and not frustration at the things out of my control.

Those who fear being misunderstood should
not get into the business of creation.
Nor should they who only want to be good.

Absolute truth is a piece of fiction.
What you create no longer belongs to you –
always subject to interpretation.

It is cathartic to create something new
even if it does not serve the purpose
you originally set out to do.

If misunderstanding makes you nervous,
remember, being understood can be worse.

Yes, hello, how are you? How have you been? I want to tell you about a lot of things. Like the pigeon I spoke to the other day. It listened. It stayed as if it understood how much I needed to vent.

There was also a story I read. I knew it how it was going to end. You often do with tragic endings. Nevertheless, I persisted. I read all the words and wept just like the writer wanted me to. It was an adequate excuse to mope for a bit.

I discovered I can no longer bend enough to touch my toes. I wonder when that happened. An afternoon spent reaching for my feet left me with a pulled hamstring, a sweaty nose, and a shallow sense of shame. But I am not too concerned.

What else? See, I keep forgetting the stories, the baubles, I saved for you.

Oh, yes! I found a secluded pathway when I got lost during an evening stroll. I was too keen to find my way bay back to heed the bluebells that beckoned me like will-o’-the-wisps. But I went back the next day and followed the narrow tracks till it emerged to a low ridge overlooking the city. There was a well-worn tree stump that made me think that maybe this was someone’s hideout.

My thoughts get polluted in the short span
of time it takes them to run to my tongue.
Intent evaporates, I find myself
spewing banality with confidence.
Dubious sense of humour fails to land
a punch; I dodder past with a faux grin.
Finally it’s time to pass the baton
to another unwilling candidate.
I nod pleasantly as we continue
our dull charade of camaraderie.

Once upon a time being sociable
meant exchanging infrequent messages.
The small talk prattles on… I think about
the lost luxury of writing letters.

‘What’s the point of it all?
Life is such a long haul!’
All my distress melts away,
bleak worldview turns upside,
once I saunter inside
the air-conditioned café.
Sometimes you are just hot
when you think life is fraught
on a white-hot summer day.

I have learned the importance
of self-care in my darkest moments.

I have learned not to chide myself
for the past I have left behind.
I have taught myself not to belittle
the seemingly insignificant ways
I take care of myself every day.

My body that continues
working, every cog turning,
no matter how I am feeling
fills me with wonder.

My mind, a juggernaut,
surprises me every time
with its resilience.

So I do all I can
to make myself feel better.
I try to take care of things now
so I am not overwhelmed later.

The
path
that you
have chosen
is not pretty but
it will lead you to salvation.

C – me, slumped over in bed,
       tousle-headed, still half-dreaming.
O – the yawn, long as it is wide,
       accompanied by copacetic stretches.
F – a familiar pose,  
       bent over my phone, browsing.
F – the faucet gushing,
       my toothpaste dislodged unceremoniously.
E – the stack of banana pancakes,
       doused in honey, decimated briskly.
E – the coffee maker beeps,
       the ****** to a routine morning.

You know the feeling
when it is pouring outside
and you are home,
tucked in,
warm and cozy.

You lie in bed,
awake,
listening to the rain
drown everything
in white noise.

You feel the fog lift
from your mind.
Ideas take shape,
building,
till the air is alive
with possibilities.

Yeah…
when that happens,
take my advice –
write it down.
All of it.

Because
if you don’t,
the next day you won’t
remember
any of last night’s
“brilliant” notions.

This is a poem
only because
you deem it worthy.  

Without your gaze,
amenable and open,
it is a line broken
in erratic fashion –
a skeleton
awkward, unbecoming.

You take my common words
upon your clement tongue
curiously tasting every emotion
compassionate, kind,
with your all-consuming spirit.

You magnolious stranger
with the soul of a friend,
we may never know
each other’s life or pain;
unable to console
or hug
or even wave hello.
But you paint my sparse canvas
with so many inimitable layers,
your perspective,  
your experience,
your empathy,
and the brightest color –
imagination.

This is a poem
only because
you see it as one.

Respect
does not
warrant meek submission.

Loyalty
is a
two-way street.

Obedience
cannot be
mistaken for assent.  

Justice
should be
free of prejudice.

Being human feels
like a compromise.

They said I blew
it out of proportion.
I was told to let it go
so I did the mature thing
and looped an uptight string  
around its neck, strangled
it in a vexed snaggle,
before setting it free
to float. I let it go;
(though, not really).

Good advice must be broken
into bite sized pieces
so as to avoid choking
on its well-meaning intent.

Now,
I carry it with me every day
but it is a weight off my shoulders.
They say it suits me.
I agree.
What a facetious accessory it is –  
maturity!

Sometimes I have something to say.
Sometimes I want to say nothing
about what I really feel –
I bury it within layers.

It is easy to write because
sometimes I have something to say.
Every word sprouts out eagerly,
a bamboo grove by morning light.

I begin my expedition
without a set destination.
Sometimes I have something to say;
I end up saying something else.

I’ve built a wall of reticence;
poems are the open window.
Reluctant as I am to talk,
sometimes I have something to say.

I do what I want
I want to do everything
Everything that pleases me
Everything I can try
Try to taste every flavour of ice cream
Try to howl at the moon unabashedly
Unabashedly moonwalk in front of someone
Unabashedly confess to my longtime crush
Crush my reluctance to smithereens
Crush it like a boss every single time
Time to be my own hero
Time to see how far I can go
Go one step further than yesterday
Go to sleep when I need some rest
Rest easy till I can recuperate
Rest but never ever quit
Quit being so ******* myself
Quit taking failure so personally
Personally go to places I only see in pictures
Personally meet old friends I only text
Text first without any ego
Text my family more frequently
Frequently feel the wind blow through my hair
Frequently let the morning sun warm my face
Face rough times with dignity
Face myself in the mirror with sincerity
Sincerity in all my relationships
Sincerity in everything I do
Do that chore now instead of later
Do some yoga and drink more water
Water the plants
Water them twice in hot weather
Weather life’s big roller-coaster
Weather rough days with a smile
Smile as I take my first sip of coffee
Smile when I hear the birds sing
Sing off-key in the shower
Sing sad songs to feel better
Better to be alone than to be lonely
Better to feel sad than nothing at all
All I want is to be true to myself
All I need is freedom
Freedom to live as I please
Freedom of independent thought
Thought I had life figured out
Thought I found the secret to happiness
Happiness is a choice
Happiness is personal
Personal…
Choice…

If you let me sleep
I will not ask to be free.
I will don the chains
you insist are not a leash.
Allow me to drop
deeply, slowly, in rapture
without the plummeting end.

If the long tunnel
must bait me with the promise
of light ahead while
its long shadow weighs me down
I need to lie here
and rest before I accept
the white untrue hope.
If tomorrow must arrive
and I have to greet
the blue rascal with a smile
let me say goodbye for now.

I have –

Poison in my head.
A heart that is beating
but might as well be dead.

Anxiety ticking through my limbs,
clawing at my throat,
a thousand tiny pins
scratching to spill out.

Rage,
terrible, blinding, impotent.
Cold fury,
I break my bones to contain.

Puny sorrows that rub me raw.
Self-deprecation
that is more self-loathing
than feigned humility.

Amidst all this misery
I do also feel
kindness, joy, compassion.
Wonder, hope, faith
have yet to forsake me.

Let me whisper another confession –
I admit,
I have made playmates of all my demons.

Savage as they are,
I am wilder still.
I haven’t yielded yet
and I never will.

It has a slow beginning,
This new book I am reading
Though it’s not a riveting tale
I follow its dry, meandering trail
Boom! A twist in the plot. Gasp! No!
What happens next? I need to know…

I snap to attention, sit up straight
as I worry about our hero’s fate.
Will he prove his innocence to all?
Or will he give up and take the fall?
I turn the page and readjust my pillow.
What happens next? I need to know…

Another twist hits me out of the blue,
Our hero’s not the man I thought I knew!
His dark secret has finally been revealed.
Will he pay for his sins? Will he yield?
I’m down to the last fifty pages or so.
What happens next? I need to know!

i am tired
not allowed to sleep yet
i must wait
and breathe
heavier every second
empty still
nothing to give
so much to steal
i will wait
unseeing eyes fixed
on the frozen hourglass
i will speak
of birds and sunrise
the relentless vice
of waking
i will wait
until i cannot anymore

I
smile when
she says she
loves me simply
because that is what
all mothers do. She nods,
indulgent, when I explain
that blood running in our veins like
a river and its tributary
can’t fathom the depth of her ocean heart
Her kindness, her patience, her forgiveness,
her pride and joy, her laughter, her tears,
her kisses, her embrace, her smell,
her strength, her sheer existence,
everything else unique
to her is the tree
under which I
take shelter;
I am
safe.

You pull the fondest smiles out of me
    And make me want to squee internally.

Without effort, you dispel the gloomy days;
    You set me straight from my maudlin ways.

My heart’s desire, star of my dreams,
    I can’t get you out of my mind, it seems.

Truly, I don’t have the faintest clue
    How am I ever going to survive you?

A shoal of fish, my thoughts
flit about aimlessly,
succumb
to the pull of eddies,
get lost among the rocks.

Love and pain
are the water lilies.
Beautiful.
Recurring.
Temporary.

The mind is a river.
I am the riverbed.

The river drowns me.

The river makes me.

I
itch to
peek beyond
the thick curtain
of my depression;
check if I have
some part of
myself
left.

Again and again
   your name  
      surfaces on my lips ,
         escapes in a whisper
            and leaves me cold.

When will I be empty of you?

Oh Lucy, dear Lucy —
Is it true, are you blue?

Oh Lucy, poor Lucy —
How can we help you?

Oh Lucy, sweet Lucy —
What on earth makes you cry?

Oh Lucy, come on, Lucy —
Can't you please tell us why?

Oh Lucy, silly Lucy —
That's not reason enough.

Oh Lucy, buck up, Lucy —
You've got to be more tough.

Oh Lucy, goodness Lucy —
You can't always be sad.

Oh Lucy, smile Lucy —
It is really not that bad.

Oh Lucy, pretty Lucy —
Now that's the way to be.

Oh Lucy, good girl, Lucy —
See? Just choose to be happy.

Oh Lucy, fickle Lucy —
You were fine just yesterday.

Oh Lucy, sullen Lucy —
what's your problem anyway?

Oh Lucy, ugh Lucy —
Are you still on about that?

Oh Lucy, shut up, Lucy —
You ungrateful little brat.

Oh Lucy, quiet Lucy —
Have you nothing else to say?

Oh Lucy, lovely Lucy —
Where have you gone away?

Oh Lucy... where's Lucy?
No! Say it isn't true!

If only you knew, oh Lucy,
how much we loved you.

After much thought, I have adopted a smile.
Everyone always said I needed one to be complete;
absolutely could not have a full life without it.
As if life is a glass of water
standing on time’s table.

Do it sooner, they said,
so you both can grow up together.
It’s easier when you’re young
and still have the energy.

I had already raised a few little monsters.
My frowns and pouts and scowls
were in full bloom and flourishing.
How much harder could this be?
Smiles are easy to babysit.
I liked the idea of nurturing one as mine.

So, we brought home this shy wee thing.
She’s still getting used to the place,
nervous around her siblings.
But I am happy to report
every day her confidence grows
and soon, I hope
she will call us her family.