.

•      
be     
-hold    
    my  sole    
     prized instru-
       ment of choice•
         let it bear the wei-
           ght of my unspoken
           voice•in the dead of
             the silent night•i'll let
               loose my heart so it co-
                uld take flight•consoli-
                  dating all that i think•
                   and...converting them
                     into the blackest ink•
                       only then freely......it
                          would spill•down
                                   the stem and
                                         to the nib
                                            of my
                                               fea
                                                the
         ­                                        red
                                                  qui
       ­                                               ll
               ­                                         •

Veins of leafy plants creeping and
Peeping from the cracks in the wall of stone
As the koyal sat regally and chirped
On its wooden branch of a throne

Out in the veranda sitting
Cross legged as you tugged
My messy long tresses with coconut oil
And made that wretched braid I loathed

The smell of ripe mangoes lingered
In the summer air and starry night
As I lay on my back on the folding bed-which was as ancient as my grandma-
And tried to decipher those stars in all my childlike might

Running barefoot in the haveli corridors
Built in that old colonial style
Chasing you as you outran me in your sarree
Almost as if I was chasing my dreams

I remember the playful teasing
As you became a child with me
I also picture grandma's white haired bun
And the flyaway hair coming loose as she chased after me

I remember those lazy peaceful afternoons
When dreams exceeded reality
It was a droning hum of a life
I miss it all so dearly

So whenever I want to go back to you, mum
To visit those summer glows
I just close my eyes and think of that haveli
And once again I smell the mangoes

I don't know whether you bring out the sadness in me or the poet in me.
Maybe they're the same.

Put out a crisp white sheet
On the harder mahogany desk
Keep the pen ready and
Make the light ambient
Fold your arms
And close your eyes
Sit and wait
For the ideas to strike
Hold still! Don't move
Or you'll chase them away
And be left in the dark
With darkness barely at bay
As the trickling movements
Get reduced to peaceful sleep
You'll sit on that unforgiving wooden chair
Waiting for words to come and greet
So rub those furrowed eyebrows
And coax that pensive mind
Ignore the calls your bed sounds
Keep it waiting through the night
It is then when you're ready
To almost pull your hair and scream
That the elusive minx will tiptoe up to you
And tap on your shoulders gently
Be grateful to yourself my friend
For not giving up
Because when you stain the paper it'll  be red
You'll rhyme with your blood