the neighbour's
child blasted
into a few bits of its past
and hung in different
clothelines hanging outside
the balconies of our building—
there was a bloody explosion—
everyone screamed and shouted
and wailed and cried—
shed blood as tears
imagine the mother..
there wells in you a violent
anger and hatred
for those who caused it—
blame it on politicians
to have sown seeds of hatred
between races, communities
and languages—
between the rich and the poor—
the divide and rule
survival of the fittest
process of natural selection
the asuras spoken about
from ages before knowledge—
you recall the TV interview
of a victim who was passionately
asking how can you shake hands
of the guy who raped
your wife and daughter
and daughter-in-law
and the little one who
hasn't come of age...
and set fire to your everything—
simply because
there can not be an end to these
and if you nurse the wounds
they do not dry?
you simply curse the lord
and like to push His face down
in the blood shed so far
so as to drown Him
it's sheer
impotence
you simply be there
like the cat and the dog—
not the worms
which do not seem to
care for any
relationships or piety
if the books tell you
anything else—
bull shit it is—
religion or politics
they are nothing but
the front or the back
of bloody each other—
Erstwhile
Presence
I no longer see the
man
who was with me at the New Excelsior
and asked about Songs from Portuguese—
The painting which we saw together
lost itself when I asked him
if it could be proudly shown to guests
at our drawing room—
The last I saw him was
when he had asked me
if I had ever caught
in my palm
the gentle breeze
that goes the way it comes
leaving nothing but a feel
of its erstwhile presence
Another
Looking to you, we
did not go for another
though grannies did not agree—
living a life spinning around you?
I too did all your classes and projects and your dad
took over, joining classes himself for
New maths and did your SOP
I was tense for everything—good
school, good college,
Good grades, good friends,
the vocab you pickup,
good habits and good manners—
when you spent too long in the loo,
when your attention strayed as dad talked to you,
Proving them true when they said—
"as though all others have no kids".
Knowing fully well but wishing it off
that sons too nowadays are no different—
they too are given in marriage.
Addup
I am taking a break
from the excel spreadsheet—
Break for me is going
to the Google—
blogs and networking sites
having been blocked anyway—
log in to a site on health
or some odd strange thing
and from there
aimlessly but merrily
click on any access which appeals to me,
like peeling onion.
Just time pass really
though I believe that I look for
and get some information
nothing can be farther from truth—
But truth it is
since Kural says
that even a lie is truth
if it results in blemish less good—
and good it is as it is
a break and in that sense
blemish less...
too long is never done
and the company doesn't like it
more so my boss—
in fact when I log in
it is always a warning which pops up
before I could go further
and forces me to click yes—
saying
your accesses into the system
and to the internet
are subject to scrutiny
and continuous monitoring by the company—
one of these days we may have
Bill Gates build in a camera and a recorder
in the desktops!
and you talk of PCs which can
make out your moods and emotions
My boss will then know
that as I work on excel,
on the second or third slayer of my mind
it is my son's on coming marriage
and my wife's blood pressure
which in the breaths I take
between one row and another come to the forefront
and go back
giving way to mercy killing and death penalty
as do the stock prices...
What the hell are you doing
in the Osteoporosis site
asking, no shouting
my boss enters—
his way of taking
a break, I guess
Some figures do not add up
in the excel received from HO
I say.
Yeah,
Some really
don't add up
Or down.
Space
Knowing me to be
alone
you want to come in—
I don't care
what your reasons are
it's okay
but
while being your normal self
and being allover
there are certain things
which are mine and holy
sacrosanct
my poetry
unless I want to show you
myself
otherwise I feel naked
though by itself
the word means nothing
as you came out
naked into the world
and it is always
the naked truth that you want
all the time in life and things
seeking
you can use my mind and my bed
lots of others had
except for awhile
it doesn't mean much
leave a little space
for me too
to turn around
because I do so
while asleep
and when awake too
sleepless—
also
but
rock the space a bit
with some nursery rhymes
or lullabies
if you can't bring in
some stars
and some haiku
be sure
be prepared
to be knocked out
like those before you were
ending up
in one of my
poems.
