Stills...

a yapping television
some trickling water droplets
clean plates on the side table
and newspapers lying hapless

sing songs of yellow fever
play games of scarlet checks
dance around in rhythmic motion
chop fine kung fu wrecks

while
the air
circulates
around all commotion,
circumvents
plastic drapes
kills rhyme in deep rest

and the mind
sits
splits
into half
and then half of half
and so on
separating
like wings under a shredder

that become
feathers ambulating in stillness...

Too many...

poly was a good word;

it was supposed to be a good word.

coz it stood for abundance,
multiplicity,
a movement of now to a new now,
several blobs of what could be
swaying in shimmering delight.

And then you came in,
with a prolific smile,
procedurally,
promiscuously,
parabolically,
a proverbial middle eastern 'poly',

and
I died of a tumour!

Two Sides!

I sat on the backseat of the three-wheeler
and it stared at me,
that photo ID
of who sat ahead
in khaki pants and a clairvoyant shirt,
some two streets away from where I stay
“Nagashettihalli”…
Same height, same width, same sight,
I thought,
when the smell of the other side
wiped wind around me aside
and I looked down at my phone
at time that needed to pass…

Focus!

"I'm okay with everything," he shook his head, "its quite natural to forget or misplace things. I understand. But jus that you could be a lil more careful...generally, you know." He drove watchfully.

"Hmmm," she said. She hated herself when she made a mistake. She hated herself more when she made a mistake and he didnt get angry. "I know!"

"But come on...don be over-critical," he said. "It takes time," he held her hand. "It took me time to remember to take the papers, to watch when I drive, to keep a tab on directions, to remember each cross-road to take like..."

"...like the one you just missed?" she smiled, twinkles in the eye overpowering dimples in the cheek. "Reverse maadi!"

Viewing points!

"'Rome wasn't built in one day' is a saying in English," she said loudly, pronouncing each word with emphatic nonchalance. "It means that it takes a lotttttt of patience, persistence, determination..." she paused for words, "...focus...conviction...to achieve something...you should give things, time".

"Mama, Rome is the capital of Italy na?" she quizzed. Images supercede imagination. Concepts, afterall, are products of logical imagination accepted by all. So it is thinking thats commonplace. But images are static descriptions that can be viewed differently. Sky, for example. You see it blue, light, tinted, pleasant, bright in the morning. I see it dark, black, but beautiful in its shining, starry, sparkling self. Sky, between night and day. Image, between you and me.

"Correct, darling," she answered, delighted. Memory during tender ages is a pleasant thing.

"So there are wooden tables there na Mama...by the streets...clean and sparkling...yellow flowers...fresh greens..." she quipped, eyes wide open. "And people dress up really nicely in Italy."

She was surprised. Perhaps, more curious than surprised. Television! Must Be! That's fine. "What else do they do?" she smiled, cleaning remains of food from her mouth.

"They talk fast fast Mama. Many many girls and boys. They don't stay apart like in school. They sit together like besttttt friends holding hands.  All happy happy." She sat straight. "When your happy and you know clap your hands...clap clap clap...I like going to Rome...its my favvvvvvourite place."

Hallucinations? Images supercede imagination?

"We're in India, kan, you havent gone to Rome, sweetheart..."

"We went there last Sunday, I played with the cheese plate..."

Huh?

"I dipped onions in red chutney...and you had wine..."

She picked her up and washed her tiny palms. "Little Italy" she smiled, as she carried her into the room.
"But those are biiiiiiiig girls and boys ok. They have finished school...and finished college...like Mama and Papa no...." she  began, as voices disappeared between time and space...and age!

PS - Main keh raha hoon kya, tu sun rahi hai kya, tu sun rahi hai kya, main keh raha hoon kya!

We know!

Why find meaning
in anything
- discuss, debate, deliberate - 
when
all you know
and all I know
is all the meaning there can be!

What will he think...

I thought,

as he saw me sitting there,
cushy as a princess,
pampered, treasured, adored,
with nothing more to ask for;

until I saw
that he couldnt think
when he saw, in sight, fixated,
just me and me alone!

PS - Ho na ho sab raazi...dil raazi, rab raazi! :)

Dirt!

...on the road sticks onto u,
like a leech in the forest
but is gender-less.

It covers your body and pretends to be a protector,
it greases you slowly, carefully when you’re not looking
and disfigures you.

Then,
like an outsider, it laughs at the new ugly ‘you’
and
secretly
and moves onto the next body, the next catch…

Next time, these creatures come back,
tell them –
not anymore, there’s nothing left to ruin anyways,
let them go chirp with other ‘dust’
and then settle down with half-hearted chocolate lip balms,

while you take a bath with your protector
who will wipe you clean of such filth/muck.

But its still scary, you know,
that a piece of crap can fool you,
and its even more frightening to see
that its out on the loose!

Pimple...

a pimple is an irritating wrinkle,
a bulging cod-liver-oil tab, soft-gentle,
I wanna pop it off with a prick neat-simple,
and make it look like a smiling reverse dimple! :)

Stone!

There was a stone that shone
in light that caught the gaze of sight.

Whenever someone looked into it,
it gleamed in glory
and reflected back at him, bit by bit,
his true character's story.

"You're just a body healer", it shone at the doctor,
"and you, can only tell life's tale, O astrologer!
and what a shame, dear thief,
you cant run away with a single 'meaningful' leaf!"

Each passing day, several came,
stood stong like emperors, dropped down like slaves,
vanquished by a mere thing,
they dug up land, lay down dead in graves.

Untill one day, there came a man,
who stared for long and smiled,
"Okay I'm a nobody, but so are so you,
why do you choose to sit here denied?

If you were all that great and wonderful,
wouldnt you be elevated and celebrated?
Would people loathe you, despise you,
call you a killer of souls, whose killings you perpetrated?"

The stone lay unmoved, unchewed.
"Man's ego, mister Einstein, one will not forgo,
I speak the truth, I show you "you", bare and uncouth,
but you will not thank me, rank me as your top friend,
you will deny, modify, codify or even defy own life
you will stay put, not take note, move on or change vote,

and this is the story of every honest storey,
the glamorous are gold-faced, need soft beds
the simple are fainthearted, need euphemisms
the nobody's are rebels, need reason.

I am a stone, lay alone, stone hearted, soul parted,
I say you all seek the imperfect, deflect, I reflect what you reflect!"