Disgust

...is a pig's skin covered in the filth of the road
smelling like a ball of rotten, spoilt perishables
flapping around shamelessly, remorselessly,
littering every single clean spot on its way.

...is gait, small steps, speed, earnestness,
fake in the the circuitous air,
that spins out shit and spins in normalcy for a long time
till deception dies of old age...

Yeah...disgust is that pig's real, bare, unwashed self!

Dizzy...

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
something's calling from somewhere;
in that land, with those folks,
is that a song i wonder,
jus a simple buzz of a tune,
a flat intonation that
doesnt need to dive into your lungs,
it can simply walk a pedestrian walk...

hmmm...
some songs are sung like that
zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Silent Whispers!

It was always a tidy place. Yet, she would go about with her cleaning every single Sunday. She would fold his clothes, neatly, mindful of their already acquired creases and keep them back in the same place, same position before he woke up.

“So you’re busy again”, he yawned. “Ho gaya sab kuch, aaj ke liye?”

She smiled without an answer. Some words dilute themselves in the warmth of the saliva; some others extend themselves to restless tongues and get dissolved; she liked them receding back earlier, from the throat itself, back into the place they began. Words could churn themselves again and come back with a better offering, right?

“Breakfast mey kya khaoon?” he brooded. “I know what you’ll say…Toast sandwich…Bombay style”, he chuckled. “But it’s not fair, you know…I can’t make khana everyday yaar he got up from the bed and walked to her. “Bahut bore hota hoon”.

She always found most of what he said amusing…and very endearing...especially his articulation of serious things. She laughed and winked, resting her elbows on the edges of the cupboard planks and resting one side of her head on her knuckles looking straight at him.

“Very difficult ok all this”, he went on. “Main abhi bol raha hoon, I can manage this for a few days, theek hai, just a few days ok…and its not like I deserve to do it either no…I dont think anyone has any complaints with me…tujhe bhi toh itna tang nahi kiya hai…haan, a lil bit, yes, but by and large, not really right?” he stopped. "Definitely not tumhare jitna".

She didn’t stop smiling. She couldn't. Standing at the washroom door now, she signaled towards the lonesome toothbrush. It stood alone alongside some toothpaste. “Uff” he sighed and picked it up. He brushed his teeth as she looked on.

He knew she secretly checked if he was brushing alright. He knew she secretly timed him. He knew she secretly watched him. He knew she secretly kissed him every night after he fell asleep. He knew she secretly mothered their child. He knew she secretly wished for a lifetime together. He knew she secretly loved him to pieces. He knew she secretly yelped that night before she was rushed to the hospital. He knew she secretly knew she would be gone.

He knew now everything she secretly did.

“Men are suckers no?” he asked as he washed his mouth and showed her his teeth. She smiled the smile that had never ceased. He wiped his face dry. “They just can’t cook well enough!”

Settle...

"I look like an eraser",
bubble gum said,
"harmless warrior, sitting right there,
fightlessly defeated,
Why would you not simply let me be
leave me on the table with cup and tea?

Why take me inside you,
your strange contours of first intimacy
tasting walls of saliva-condue
with convincing simile?"

"Thats just a prelude, dear u", they replied,
"You gotta figure out your dimensions, go long and wide,
We temper our temper, alright,
through you we offload our spite!"

"I'm lucky", it said, "I'll cleanse you slow,
You get me fast, you get me neat, you get me low,
I'll learn, mould my contours, for when I'm alone and subdued,
You'll spit me out, when there's food you cant refuse,

Thats when I'll find my way,
even in my being, diffused,
I'll stick to my new surface forever,
no fears anymore, I cant be reused!"

Vacuum-ing!

Spluttering droplets
squeeze themselves off cotton clouds
and splash across bare surfaces
collecting together in strange shaped puddles
on loaded bodies of human existance;

some land on the crevices of the head dissolving in salinity,
some trickle down the forehead in uncharted trajectories
taking along straining thoughts,
down the nose,
past your cheeks,
denting necks,
cracking chests,
splitting intestines,
scraping ovaries,
meandering down strangely long legs
throwing themselves off your toes -

cleansing...you...free...of...yourself

 - strangely,
in rain,
I found the washerman!

Who...

...are you,
I ask.

Are you
what you say you are
who you say you are
what you do you say you do
or do you do just what
he does
she does
they do
I do...

when i cut things of mine and shed them off
you pick them up and wrap them around you
you take my skin, i take yours,
chips unknown, unwanted, undefined...

...are you, just me?
...am I, just you?

The 'Bajji' Seller!

She takes each vegetable to be cut,
as keenly as words 'for order' from hungry customers,
behind the glass laden push-cart
on a narrow footpath in some narrow by-lane,
and lists quickly,
an iterinary of items to bill,
in the mini-cells of her excel-sheet-less mind
that wanders between its calculations,

onto faces of
women like her
who -
walk down the street
clad in uneventful mind-clothing,
staring questioningly at their 'friends',
yelping in pain and anger or
howling in happiness and laughter -

blaring voices in glaring flames of individuality and independence,
unlike her
and her error prone but mandated-error-less math,

standing next to her husband's brown palms, a few inches away from the piping hot oil,
that takes each vegetable she cuts
as keenly as she does words for order from hungry customers!

Loops...

5 circles
10 spins
100 directions
1000 dimentions
10000 thought dispositions

discrete, distinct, divergent

1 magic wand
1 magic mantra
circles in circles
olympic ring-ish

1 loop
...and...loopy! :)

Washerman!

When
the smell 'on' the clothes I wore today
sticks its neck out,
unscrubb-able by my palms, uncleanse-able by the strength of my arms,
and transcends
the transient lobes of air that otherwise recycle themselves every 8 seconds,
I seek
the washerman!

streetlightless

softlinestreadingdimentionlessspace.fuellingthoughtsfromdarknesss.
somewhere.withinsomethingthatisyou.
growingdimentionlesslyvigourouslyparallelly.unplannedundecidedundone.
youswayyouwadeyousearchyoubendyoulook.
youcovermoreareawhenyoutaketheroadthatisstreetlightless.