"shalini" poems
They call this a form of madness because you stepped into my void right out of my dreams where you reigned free in my subconscious waving like the good naval officer that you were returning home after a long mission wearing all-white linen none out of place crisp clean-cut shoulders padded with shiny metals head balancing the white hat that sat tall there like a good boy behaving in the church pew and all I feel is your radiant smile glowing out of you like a million little sunbursts swallowing me whole by the pier leaving behind nothing to prove I even existed.
Now, isn't that madness?
Shalini Nayar
25.11.14
(c) 2014
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
the hundred year old stairs
wakes up from its dreamless slumber
to find the world has spun
for an infinity too long
it once roamed
and ruled
the household of Chathanathodi
making way to the rooms
upstairs
that conspired a thousand
whispered secrets
simultaneously
sprawling its termite-infested legs
to make way
downstairs
that injected an aura of
omnipotence
its laddery body was now a little chipped
and its creaky joints, a little shaky
but it didn't matter
as it was still conspicuous
and strong
like Hercules
leading unsuspecting mortals
upstairs and downstairs
to its universe of Gods
Shalini Nayar
© 2001
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
Oh look at thy heart,
It yearns for the love,
Love which is pure,
And makes it feel secure
Love which is worth the trust,
Not merely meant to gratify thy lust
Love which is filled with devotion,
And balances complicated emotions
Love which is passionate,
The limit of which is infinite
Love which helps thy evolve,
And where all boundaries dissolve
Let love be that serene fountain of happiness,
Where the heart can attain its salvation,
Which helps it find its true destination.
-SHALINI JAIN
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
A perfect man for me was never moulded by a box,
A box that screamed multitude of labels
To satiate the chaotic minds of society,
A belonging judged by feudality, no rhyme or reason required or questioned.
A perfect man for me was never measured by material things,
He gives abundantly by just being around,
An illuminating source of comfort on the other end listening,
Empathising and leaving a trail of laughter that makes me fall even deeper.
A perfect man for me was never masked crusader (okay, maybe Batman sometimes),
He is maskless for the world to bask in his genuity,
No bounds or limitations set on his acts of kindness and love,
Selfless and generous with his time, blind to any creed or pedigree.
A perfect man for me was never one to run away from problems,
Valiantly facing the raging bulls head on,
Inner strength personified by his poise and determination,
"I will get through this unscathed and no one will stop me".
A perfect man for me was never an owner of a cold crackled heart,
Headstrong, gallantly keeps the family together in a bind of unconditional love,
Lovingly adores his sunshine, making sure she knows she is loved with the same fervour,
Day in and day out, void of complains and pettiness, as the world turns.
A perfect man for me was never perfect,
Owning up to his flaws and shortcomings and being aware of mine,
A cycle that is never vicious but one that is laced with acceptance and non-judgments,
He inspires the best version of myself as he aspires to better himself.
A perfect man for me spells Y-O-U,
And the way that you are is exactly how I love Y-O-U.
Shalini Nayar
24.11.14
(C) 2014
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
This is me, pouring.
I know what/where it is now.
I must be patient.
Shalini Nayar
© 2004
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
The candy-cane stripes mingle freely among the
Saffron-clothed C moon and fourteen-handed star.
They swim navy-like in the blue.
The reds and whites alternate
Till the states are properly represented.
They ask of nothing more, nothing more.
What does it hold? What does it teach us?
The wild history of it roars and thunders
Like a hurricane that never stops.
But it did. How did we overthrow
Something so mighty, so white
As an unstoppable hurricane?
And the purpose of it all? Freedom.
Freedom and independence. Two righteous
Morals so hard to obtain.
At what cost did we attain them?
Bloodshed, shrieks, lies, torment and tears.
It was all worth it, love, all of it.
When Jack finally crawled down the beanstalk,
We never flew higher, braver or breezier
With such dignity and unfaltering spirit.
We have come so far to this place, this place
Where hatred shreds to little warm hearts and people
Are just people no matter how colourful they are.
We’re a rare hybrid of ethics: the sarong-laden man milking the rubber tree
Is no different than the blackened faces down in the tin mines
And the ones that hand-built the train tracks, woody and sturdy.
Seven chants of it that fateful afternoon
And we cried knowing, knowing we have made it.
Toiled sweat never tasted sweeter. Merdeka!
Most of us laughed and rejoiced.
Some were heard wailing and flying off to where
They rightfully belong. We don’t want you here. We never did.
The dove’s free now,
Free of thick metal bars
That caged it for centuries and
It flies now, wings spread into
A feathery horizon, windily flapping back and forth
Into a new world, a new promise called Malaysia.
Shalini Nayar
© 2002
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
The moon cracks and blooms.
Its grey nowhere to be seen,
It shawls itself with a bleak cloud.
The floating pearl biscuit
Busily dictates orions and dippers.
One travels, and people start wishing.
They are hopeless: the people and their pretentious wishes.
The jackfruit tree bears only death: dead leaves, thorned fruits.
Under the nocturnal skies,
It is the great witch.
Silent and black. It is voiceless.
Shalini Nayar
© 2002
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
look up, look up
pretty bride
look how the seats are arranged
just like your marriage
promising a plethora
with three knots of the saffron string
look down, look down
blushing bride
look how your hands are laden
with orange mehndhi
matching your silk orange sari
with your sparkling diamond and gold jewels
blinding the third eye on your forehead
that blinks uncertainly
look around, look around
naïve bride
look how the sun rushes through the hall
waking up sleeping jasmines on your hair
fading away the wretched past
ending your stormy dormancy
look right, look right
****** bride
look how your husband-to-be is next to you
cupping his hands in yours
receiving the priests' blessed blessings
and sharing the confetti of thrown rice
and you close your eyes
tired bride
praying to live
happily ever after
Shalini Nayar
© 2001
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
The Godly air consumes me as I tiptoe across the marble floor,
Icy, tightening their grasps with every step I take.
Stories around me come alive in magical paintings, snaking their way in every corner,
And in sculptures that speak an unspeakable history, ancient truths that we all try to seek.
Their stony eyes follow me wherever I go, priestly and judgy.
As I glide, my heart flutters with rains of fear and thunders of uncertainty,
But as soon as I catch you sitting at the edge in your calm, patient demeanour,
A mere turn accompanied with that smile melts away all stormy qualms like nothing else.
You are my truth and I have sought it.
Shalini Nayar
7.11.14
(c) 2014
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
Leave me here basking
In this sweet garden of lust
Longing for your scent.
Shalini Nayar
© 2004
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
Her song swims in waves into the river,
The swift current cradling it by.
Her melody stumbles across the rocks,
The quavers settle offshore till the wave-bubble
Licks them back.
The scattered ashes come to life.
Shalini Nayar
© 2005
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
"Not too long to go now," your bones squeak,
Your feet has seen things, your eyes have travelled far and wide
The promise of a new land
That peeks through the stony shreds
The quiet murmur of freedom the masses dream of,
For justice to finally matter.
And oh, how the heavens creaked open
Illuminating its light on all that is holy
'This land is rightfully ours and it shall be with the rightful owner' you demanded ever so gently,
People of the land marching in solidarity on the barren sand cheering,
"We're with you bapaji, never give up!",
And the foot trails you leave behind unshackle history and make new ones
That will be whispered in centuries from now.
The road forks ahead, ever more complicated and rusty,
But you trudge on to not break those hearts
That have taken upon themselves to beat against yours,
Your walking stick stabs the earth as you inch towards the promise behind those walls.
Not too long to go now.
31.3.15
(C) 2015 Shalini Nayar
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
The wild current flows, stopping for no one,
As I reach out to grasp what was left:
A hint, a memory waving by like deja vu,
Random access memories;
Perhaps I've imagined it all.
Here I am grappling again,
With that titanium door bolted shut,
Safeguarding anything that tries to trespass it;
One word, a grunt, a slight nod, casual shrug
Indifferent smiles
As you flow over rough and rocky terrains,
Boulders sharpening your edges,
A gaze here and a whimper there,
Your mind jostled, warranting rhymes,
As my heart gets trampled by the one you love.
Lucid dreams morphs into lucid visions,
I try to see what you see through the eyes you possess in the islands of your heartbeats and the crimson nerves coursing through your veins,
Alas the curtains come billowing down shut, "Nothing to see here, go on back home folks" and the circus ends for the night---
Not till a stubborn tug in the depth of my soul says it deserves
A slight hope that one day you would weave me unconditionally in your reflections,
To navigate the mountains together---
But for now, the ringmaster declares the show's over.
My weary heart has seen it all, heard it all, always sleeping with one eye pry open,
The other eye shut in prayer this wouldn't be the norm,
As I hold on tightly to the current, wildly rushing through the fabric of time,
Leaving no traces of faces behind but a faint tapestry of a memory
By the lake, held tight,
Supported by wiry artistry,
Calm on the surface but paddling nervously underneath like those waddling ducks,
Your lips and eyes melting into mine,
Asking me to be yours.
19.2.15
Shalini Nayar
(C) 2015
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 11:02 AM UTC
I remember the red flag symbolizing the sun,
With white and black horses running through
The meadow, their hooves destroying everything in sight.
The mist seeping into our blood,
Tingling us both.
It was the duet of our blossoming romance.
Shalini Nayar
© 2005
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
Velvety smooth like cocoa butter voice,
In strength and poise you honour and bask,
Just to hear you laugh being silly is my task,
In your arms I'd want to be forever if I had a choice.
Beautiful inside and out, you've brought being a gentleman back in fashion,
Everyday is a joy with you that keeps getting better,
Always reassuring and sweet with your words and actions,
Reigniting fiery flames whenever we're together.
Shalini Nayar
27.11.14
(C) 2014
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
All that glitters never meant much to me,
Petals fall & fade, withering along with time like its temporary immortality,
Money joining suit in its temporary fervour, but never buying love as the Beatles crooned.
So let me tell you what does:
The look on your face when I've made you happy with a surprise or two;
The sound of your laughter reverberating through the air as I cowl in my witty silly remarks;
The mental connection that pleasantly astounds me with every thought-stealing line and mirrored gestures-humour-reaction-action;
How your words has awaken the inner dormant writer/poet and inspired to put my venomous quill to paper again;
How you make me feel beautiful, appreciated and respected, just the way I am;
Your empathy and understanding that chase the dark clouds away and silence my demons;
The way we make love with the glances we exchange in public like there's no one around;
The way we make love with our bodies, explorative archaeologists tracing each other's landscapes gently-sweetly-devilishly;
How you claim my arm across, intertwining with yours, caressing it as if it's a part of you;
When your palm holds my face lovingly while we exchange sweet kisses, nibbles and all;
Blowing soft breaths onto our goosebumpy skins, whispering how much we love each other;
Cheekily stealing smooches at traffic light stops which never seem to be long enough;
Resting your head on my sturdy shoulder as I cushion mine into yours, christening it with my lips,
As we serenade that BSB song transporting me back to 14 again.
And the realization pierces me through like truth always does:
That I would not trade any moment, any era, any wish, any desire
Than the one right now with you that has headily grasped me so:
A dizzying cocktail of drugs that is you.
Shalini Nayar
31.10.14
(c) 2014
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
My hands, my knees.
Look at it jolting out of me,
Cavemen clubs with nowhere to go.
The passageway now hurts, pushing out
Whatever that went in.
Liquid, solid, knives,
Lies, lies, lies, grievances.
The forcing, the cough, the blow
Right here, into the middle of my stomach.
The stupid things I do sometimes
Just to feed the pressure.
The oil greases over me,
It’s hard enough to breathe in here.
Hear hear, I speak. It is you I want.
Mr. Grape’s hair I gently stroke away in that trailer,
His lips I gently kiss to an ******
Right there, in my neck,
Between the pulsating veins,
The urge hissing on my tongue.
That’s where you must belong always.
Mamma, won’t you get off
Your fat back and your fat haunch,
Off that sweaty couch, off that shaky little house
And get me out of this god-forsaken land?
Shalini Nayar
© 2004
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
“How do you want it?” the hairdresser asked.
“Bald.” I quipped.
Shalini Nayar
© 2002
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
The whole drive I could not stop the stream,
Hot and urgent they let themselves go,
Gleaming like shiny babies in the artificial white lights.
The bald heads vacantly size me up as I arrive;
These ghosts have seen their share of streams
Till they have none left to reminisce.
They nod knowingly.
I hurry to the mirror to destroy any evidence and......I smile.
These tears have created the perfect smokey eyes.
17.4.15
(C) 2015 Shalini Nayar
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
The night is full.
It is simply in its element.
The clouds invade the dark universe,
Curtaining the stars and their moony mother.
Down here the cars don’t **** by much.
The roads are perfected,
Down to bits of fresh-hot tar rocks
And Chinese-lanternesque streetlights.
Houses yawn and drag logs of dreams
Into them. The patrons need it (it’s its excuse)
After a long hard day.
Everything else creaks and blooms. It is dreamy.
This dark hour asks nothing more than creation
Of something. Something eternal that rings us
In this golden circle of mathematics,
Complex and unintelligible.
It is child-like, this algebraic world.
It is simply in its element.
Shalini Nayar
© 2002
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
she was like an inviting lotus
seducing into her roots
of sensuality and infinite pleasures
her love was of a collage
of blue and purple pigments
tainting its withered petals
enticing the skeptic
she was an Immortal
like a beautiful mystical goddess
inducing intrigue
inviting the uninvited
Shalini Nayar
© 2001
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
In the darkest hour the sliver of light pierces through,
Illuminating the bones of our truth,
Rearranged and remoulded by the sands of time,
Revealing its raw crevices for the world to see
They say it's darkest before dawn,
In the still of the night, they danced in unison,
Intertwining individuals intercepting fate,
Setting forth a fiery flame for all the pawns in this game
Carnal desire madly racing through their veins,
Pulsing the minutes as if life depended on it,
Passion enveloping the world only they could bear witness to,
As the crack of the moon dragged her blacks across the Jungian skies
They fight for the other like no other,
They will wait out stormy seas and torrents of trouble,
Where does faith lie but if not in their hearts that had been glued back?
For the bonds of love can weather through any matter.
~Vijaya Balan and Shalini Nayar
21.10.14
(c) 2014
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
Whatever may come,
I know I can survive it.
I can cook **** well.
Shalini Nayar
© 2005
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
It whispers to me everyday, wide and deathly.
The heartbeat of it never fades.
The garland grows rounder and vague.
It’s like a warning, only you cannot avoid.
Where it will descend: on the dandruffed hair
Moping the pimpled cheeks? or on the
Origin of the thumps itself, losing the will to beat?
They do not speak, but their act volumes like nothing else.
The black magnolias bloom and bleed
Odours of life. Do not believe their
Scented breath. It is almost beautiful
Like ten minutes of peace.
I’m no longer afraid, my flowery enemy.
The buds sleep while monoecious parents
Mother a silent death.
Shalini Nayar
© 2002
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
I have always known.
But you know me, impatient.
I try wrong ones first.
Shalini Nayar
© 2004
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC