Atop a hill

I climb
to the top of wonder hill,
an unfamiliar route -
perspiring skin and under-skin
conversing as-if with
breathless lungs
and
the squeaky stomach -
struggling
to keep it together.

Atop the hill,
tired,
i see the world
steady,
unchanged,
from left to right,
changing steadily
with my steady gaze,
that comes back a full circle.

Atop the hill,
I see,
a tired climber,
steady,
between,
pangs of breath,
that dissolve
watching the world go by
left to right
outside
and
top to down
inside.

Atop the hill
I watch,
un-watched.

Indifference

She told me things were okay
in a manner that was okay
a few days ago
and
I thought all was okay
in a manner that was okay to me.

Workplace problems are complicated
not just complex
coz okay is an indecipherable group of syllables-
two syllables
with a side each

I am okay and not okay simultaneously
like a buffalo with lice on the back
at times,

serving indifference,
with a smile,
in a world where its okay to be and not to be!

Thought II

With pace unmatched
and weight unseen
thoughts
run taut
like pandas
white
and
black
feeding on abundant greens,

and they
trip and fall
on sand that's brown

lost
in their own unclear shades!

PS - Ay humnava, mujhe apna bana le...sookhi padi dil ki iss zameen ko bhiga de!

Squabble

Why
do you?
I asked

How
do I know?
He said

You

Gentle breeze,
tender light,
anxious eyes
that team up with an honest smile
and that tiny little worldly piece
at the center of your palm;

I pick it up
and hold you back
in gratitude
as I would
on a rainy day,
when tempers flew
for a while.

I see what I am to you,
anyway,
simply,
from
what you are
to me
everyday...

Winning that loss!

On that road
I rode
swift as a teacher,
steady as a leader,
with unflinching focus
and insatiable wonder;
i looked ahead,
sight,
in a single line of light
eyes,
unblinking, awake.

I reached the end,
across the bend,
amid all else,
everybody else,
that laughed
and held up their swords,
you looked not around, they said
you checked not your pace;
I nodded,
I knew not this was a race,
I had battles within to play...

 

Inspiration!

is the virus dot that walks up from your tummy
to your throat
splitting itself into two and four and eight...
rushing into 
your limbs,
your brain,
all joints,
infecting everything so fiercely
before
uniting all parts of itself
back into the single blob
that goes out of the tummy!

Price

One thought at 10 bucks
another free,
they sell
and give out

unique recipes for success,
assured success,

trying to force your intuition that sat
coyly
in the center,
out of its home
to the back of the brain;

And I build
quietly,
secretly,
my dish,
a rather ubiquitous mix,
of patience and heedless calm
that sound-proofs
cheap talk!

PS - Tarkebein...tarkebein!

Migrane

When the tone from above
loses its voice at the throat
from a twisted stomach
that pushes back remains
up the pipe
to the lungs,

a migrane,
that tech-glitch in that old gramophone,
squeals like an injured rat
and puts everything to rest...

Masks!

I see them all -
ageing cells that need the den,
growing pain that must be silenced,
strong opinions that are to be held within,
violent views that are gulped down,
fiery frowns underneath neat smiles,

behind mankind's newest invention
for a safe, prosperous, wealthy life -

those
masks

- that help you survive
and kill you
at the same time.

Anonymous...

That little drop
trickling down the pipe
as you wash off
some of your soiled utensils
has a story
which will
unfold
--------if poisonous,
--------when it contaminates its surroundings
and be left
untold
--------if it treads harmlessly
--------blending itself with whats around;
I see
that stories
can leave a trail,
can speak of something or nothing,
can either contaminate or blend,
by choice
best
when left
anonymous.

Telepathy

A little whisper
around me
springs,
a wild fantasy

like jumping off a cliff into water
or
climbing up an unknown mountain in the countryside
and
I walk up to my kitchen table
to
gulp down some cold water
before
I take a deep breath, pacify my overflowing 'energies' and yearn
for
those kind words, that chatter-y tone
from
an 'old' someone
who
in his fatherly voice today

called me vivacious! :P

I hope...

Its a common affirmation,
this one,
that I hope,
for something to culminate
from withered leaves in the backyard
and settled years of know-how,
a few memoirs in place somewhere
and some dreams that sit, cuddled in the realms of my timeline.

some words scattered around the physical world
breach barriers of distance, time and space
and reach my abode, thanks to technology.

and
i soak myself in these words,
i watch my expanding soul,
i listen to the tinkering sound of resonance,
as i see
those withered leaves in the backyard
and settled years of know-how
those memoirs in place somewhere
and those dreams that sit, cuddled in the realms of my timeline
gaining life
in that affirmation
called
hope.

PS - Abhi...mujh mey kahin...baaki thodi si hai zindagi...:)

Two Sides

A side of me
sits aside
like a spectator in the stadium
watching the other side
play,
juggling
navigating
figuring,
ways to steer seemingly complex things,

then,
it takes charge
at its turn
to transform worldly spaces
into worthy surrounds for the day.

I switch
between sides
and as I seek my fused
voice
-------calling
----------------thought
in its oneness,
I realize,
I am two with myself!

Butterflies...

Something like a cluster of bubbles
rumbling along the perimeter of my stomach
try taking me on in huddles
only to test their luck...

My heart thumps a little more than normal
not used to this unsettling surrounding
and gives out a tamed chortle
amid emotions compounding...

I let my
thoughts gather,
breath unwind,
eyes blink in blank gazes,
fingers shiver,

And I let those butterflies be...
grow free
with new esprit
I let them be part of me...

Sneeze!

Struggling thoughts
wiped off their flow,
swarmed
together
and came as a coup,
unattended,
untended

and
unintended,
I sat guilty
- as I sit before you today
long before I made you a promise
to be regular, at least irregularly regular -

spilling it over
with
this
SNEEZE! :)

PS - Feels good to sneeze with a running nose! Aaakchooooo! (Excuse Me!)

The Big Fight!

They sat mum for a minute on the cement platform adjoining the compound. He was being reprimanded for his wrong-doings. She kept her gaze, that didnt move from him. And she kept her frown.
"Why?" she asked. That pitch-less tone in the very same cold voice...thats the only thing he hated. Then why didnt he fear that before attempting what he attempted! She had no reason to contain her anger.

They always walked together. And he always told her everything. Sometimes preemptively and at other times immediately after. She trusted him to bits. And she trusted him to answer even now. He looked up at the shimmering rays of the sun that were blindling him. He closed his eyes, but refused to look down. Let the heat outside suck out the heat within! He breathed his longest, loudest breath.

Sweat can be a funny thing. It tickles your skin as it flows downwards, gently. But as new sweat-drops form and slide down, they follow the path of their predecessor. Same trajectories of life! Eventually they stop tickling, they begin to lose their claws, they begin to disappear. He lifted his hand and brushed off the first of the sweat drops from the back of his closed fist. Keep it tightly closed! Its not the right time to reveal the secret!

She couldnt wait though. She held his hand. "Why did you beat her up?" she screamed. Tears were now forming in her eyes, and they were waiting to flow down as swiftly as the blobs of sweat on his forehead.
"Mama," he spoke in fear and slowly released the fist open. "She stole your earrings from my bag!" He swallowed. "I stole them from yours," he admitted, "but I wouldve given it back once I am a big boy," he paused again, "big enough to not miss you!"

She picked up her earrings and wore them. She picked him up and walked. "I wont leave you at school when you're big enough, to not miss me! I'll keep you right next to me, every minute." She gave him a big, teddy bear hug. He cleaned his forehead with the sleave of her dress, gladly.

Sight!

I look down
at reflections
of the whole world above,
upside down
in blobs of
black off sunlight or
colourless ripples spreading themselves in water...

and I think
of how we see different things
at the same time
differently
- smiles
of joy sometimes, of sorrow,
frowns
of sarcasm, sometimes of mischief,
sighs
in relief, sometimes in disbelief
screams
from fright, sometimes from deep orgasmic seizures -
all possessing us
as we possess them in pride, sometimes in indifference...

and I conclude...
sight is that light ray darkened by life's blind spots!

Do you?

What're adjectives but smart sounding nouns ending with 'y'!

"Wintery mornings give a summery feel when sprinkled with gingery thoughts?" She sat there wondering how lives wouldve changed had English been such a simple code to crack. And how would he know? He'd never asked her out. He had never tried anything romantic with words. The only time he'd expressed anything was disbelief when someone asked them about "each other". She had had to sadly laugh it off as he wiped off his smile with serious doubts. Too many oxymorons in one line of a thought. That almost sounded profane! Sigh!

"Why not?" she asked. "Look, its quite impossible to construct what I said, the way I said it, in words other than the ones I used...right?" she justified. "And its important to say things, how ever you say things, you should SAY things."

"Hmmm" his droopy eyes opened lazily to look at hers. "If you insist!"

"I think thought and feel are lesser valued objects today. Too much focus on English grammar. Such a sad world." She was annoyed. "Yeah, I'm kinda annoyed" she confirmed aloud. He wasn't saying anything and that was testing her patience and wit. One year is a long-ish time frame. "Long-ish should be a word."

"What's gotten into you?" he frowned. "And in any case how's this conversation relevant to the mood of the day?" He stroked her cheeks with the back of his fingers. "The intended mood of today." He bent forward towards her.

No more silencing. She sat back. "I dono!" she sighed. 

"Single-hood - thats a thought-feel word - isnt it?" he winked.  

She was whining. Not aloud. "Think I'll go home now, not that you've entertained me ever, to stay back. But well, its not like you're my boyfriend, so let it be!"

He smiled, almost swallowing the laughter that he couldnt let out of himself. Just like words that saw themselves stuck in his diaphragm. Simple words, tough ones, heart wrenching ones, words like sounds that echoed his gut - all stuck - when she was around. Deep breathing helped, crackling his fingers helped, swallowing blobs of saliva helped. But they helped in silencing those incessantly pounding heartbeats. All the time!

He cleared his throat. "Miss tinkering thought," he whispered, "187 coffees...188th," he held his glass high. "we're dating right?"

She smiled a wink-ish smile. "Wintery mornings with strong-ish coffees," she wrote "and one confused right-ish line!" She closed her thought-book. 

Wisdom!

"I know,"
I thought,
as i've seen what they've all seen
before them in age;
and then i looked back at my sagacity
only to summarise
without euphemism -
"I aged".