My tenses –
PRESENT
PAST
…future…
Creep into my soul in unison
...and in a voice
dripping with PASSIVE eternity
Scream
C
O
N
T
I
N
U
O
U
S

Momentarily deafened
I give up on GRAMMAR…

And gather the strewn words

Maybe…

I would need them to fill the gaps...
... in my verse brimming with INFINITIVES...

Ah ! My Beloved
this logic pure and undiluted
does it have to cross paths ?
with my insanity
time and again…

Can it not memorize
the grammar of my imperfections?
embrace the lucidity
of my madness…

Can it not hear
the chaos howling
across my silences?


…Somewhere on the Eastern sky
Sawan lashes out all her frenzy
and I in mute agony
conclude this verse
chiseled with just

MY IMPERFECTIONS...

Poets have no countries . Except the wild taste of memory ; the tapestry of pain.
…………….

The wind howls at my window as I grapple with strange destiny. This road leads
me back to the winter we have left far behind.

Pritish Nandy *




In this all pervading dusk
as Sawan lashes out
unabated
frenzied
Unstoppable
beloved,
I am reminded
of moments….


….when  you were
My fire , wind and ocean
And me the pliant Earth
Being molded
By your light…darkness
And twilights.


Now I am just
Helpless rain drop
Lost somewhere
In nameless storms
Dreaming maybe one day…


I would drizzle
Across your soils
Until then
Let  me adorn
My silences…

With perennial nostalgia

At times like these
I miss you the most
not with the pretentious serenity
of the night
but with the open ferocity of the sea.

I miss the salt in your
sweat mingling with
mine in the slow
melting surrender
of two soulless bodies
or two bodiless souls


I miss exploring
those geographical spaces
connecting me to your beyondness
under the familiar but
comforting garb of the mundane
(I just hate calling it history now)


But tell me
do you miss me?
Do you miss me
basking in the
obscurity of your shadows ?
do you miss the
salt in my tears…

for I suddenly remembered

I forgot even
How to cry ….

and so it goes ....*

No my dear son
Today no longer will I
imprison you in my dreams
but let you find your wings
and your own private skies...

But once in a while
let me gloat over your "A"s
and mull if its a steth
you will pick
or a robot
you will make


No my dear son
no longer will I
crush you with my hopes
but let you blow
your own young bubbles
in expanding varied shades


But once in a while
or maybe for a day
or two let me
lecture you
on the wise management
of your time.



No my dear son
No longer will I
****** my ambitions on you
But let you hit goals
on your muddy foot ball ground


But once in a while
when you are curled up with Archies
let me brood
if only for a little while
if its Ruskin Bond
you should be reading instead


Or maybe...

just let me offer you
a slice of my dreams
a pinch of my hope
and a very tiny speck
of my ambition

After all...


I too need to breathe.

A for Alcoholic
she mutters noiselessly
to her cherub feigning sleep
in his night mare infested crib.

B for Brute
which her Knight
morphs into every night
inflicting invisible
whiplashes on
her now rusted dreams


C for the curse
which befell on
their marital vows
the day he first touched
the stinking bottle


D for Death
she sreams to the silent night
which comes neither to her
nor HIM...

yes ... a major writers' block*


With a vengeance
I hit the key board
breaking it into shards...

the As, Ws and Bs
spill all over trying to
seek succor in my verse
if only to protect their
bleeding backs
and injured selves.

Tearing my heart apart
I look for a canvas
to sooth their
tormented nerves...


...only to find
a void so deep that...

it fills every crack...