between poems

Between this poem
and another
winter turned to spring
& summer stood motionless
In torrential rains
Cooling it’s heels…

Spiraling smoke from the incandescent
Inched up like translucent snakes
Terrorizing the meditating mind
Miles and miles have
Passed under the wheels
Of my bike
The numerous hands I have shaken
& faces smiled at
Have vanished in the crowd…

Yet the moments
Have remained motionless
Like stubborn truthful friends
Hugging me
And kissing me without passion
Like the lesbian

Frozen…
Like the game I played
As a child

Gulmohars

Have you noticed the flaming Gulmohars ?

Booming all over like a bunch of Buddhas..

Oblivious of the

Oppressing heat

And dust...and noise..

Of the stream of

Ordinary human beings

With their ordinary problems..

Passing below...

Blooming and swaying in the wind

Occasionally..

Like a wise man watching..

Sometimes in lonely desolate streets

Sometimes next to a garbage dump

Sometimes watching a road accident

Sometimes lovers...

In the same red of it's flowers

Oblivious of the

Ordinary problems

Of ordinary human beings

Passing below

Of ordinary human beings

Oblivious

Of the flaming Gulmohars..

One day

I too will turn

into inanimate…

And the inanimate

will come to life.

The walls of my bedroom

Will dance in glee

Holding each other

To celebrate my freedom from

Years of solitary confinement

Of sleepless nights and

Talking to myself….

All the music that I kept

Listening to…

With irritating repetition

Will at last attain freedom and escape

To the larger cosmos

And mingle with their like

And create a chorus….

The shirt and the jeans

That I loved most will hang In shame….

Of having spent their lives

With a grossly misunderstood character

Hated by a large part of humanity

For imaginary crimes….

My near vision glasses

The only connection between

My left and right brain…

Having taken the brunt of the

Hateful glances

That were thrown in my direction

Will at last rest in peace ….

And among other useless articles

A dead cell phone with one thousand

Extra marital messages…

Stored somewhere

That I could never fathom

And never recover

Will continue to haunt me with mocking bird eyes….

Through the bullet holes of hurt

all over my body

you can see green meadows...

in bright sunlight...

or drifting clouds like giant swans

in the still waters of the skies...

where so many; once colourful

tattered, faded flags

are rippling in the wind

as memories

of hopes of happiness

constantly reminding me

i am not alone

in joy or sorrow....

My heart goes out

To all the people

I haven’t met

Yet...

in the far away misty mountains

in a tiny hut, where a trail of white smoke

gently rises

& joins the clouds

sometimes like a giant genie

fog drifts in and engulfs all

the gigantic silence broken only by

rows of fluttering flags

where the bounty of nature is helpless

in feeding the child

but flowers continue to bloom in moss covered pots

below the battered windows

like true entities of all phenomenon

or the lunatic in the crossroad

of hectic traffic & frenzied car horns

of the exhausted homecoming

of tired travelers with tired faces

and hawk like eyes and snarling lips…

the serene lunatic, with disheveled hair

gently eating a dirty bread

with a far away look in his eyes

once in a while with a mischievous smile

scratching his hair, asking an impertinent question

“ Where have you been all this while..”?