One-way

The road to the market

Has become one-way

With a death in a house

Above the sweet stall,

The freezer box

Is out on the street,

With mourners seated

Under a canopy,

A band is playing

And the air reeks of

Incense, roses and weed,

The motorists turn back

Clearly unhappy they can't

Use a short-cut to work

The pedestrians rush past

After a furtive glance

Not wanting any reminder

Of how it all finally ends ---

The next day only the wall poster

Paying a tearful tribute

Reminds passersby of

Who had visited yesterday.

Unremarkable

This morning seems unremarkable

The sun is out in all its fury

Like some human resource manager

Venting his frustration on his subordinates

For not doing enough when enough is not enough

The gentle breeze comes with a homily

Celebrate life, for being alive 

Is itself remarkable when old ----

I step out to buy some groceries

A huge refrigerator has been dumped on the pavement

It is lying on its side like a beached fish

Giving it company is an abandoned wheelchair

The vehicles going past are dangerously close

The helmets hide the drivers

I cover my golden pendant with my saree

It doesn't take much for a day

To suddenly becoming remarkable.

Cold

The breeze tousles the leaves

Of the tree as if it cannot

Stand stillness when it is astir

The sun makes up for its absence

During the rainy days and rains heat

But we are used to this tyrant

And take his treatment with a smile

The rain feels better just for this

As also the misty months 

That feel holy without fervour

Nothing fazes us anymore

After all the heat and cold we faced

We wouldn't mind if death is cold too.

Waiting

The blank page
Waits for words
To fill its emptiness,
The bare blue sky
Will not mind
Even barren clouds,
The white wall
Wails for
A child's scrawl,
The lonely aadi wind
Knocks on doors, windows
Crying to be let in,
Dreams stand orphaned
In every street
Of the sleepless city.

Lust

In the dark
Colours lie awake
For the day to break,
Roosters sleep light
Cannot wait
Serenade false dawns,
The dream brings those
Who have vowed
Never to step
Into the house,
White chases tan
While brown blanches
Ochre darkens
With lust
Turns ogre
Finds the door shut.

Colours of desire

When we meet
We swap lists
Of what we have bought,
She looks admiringly
At my designer wear
Praises my taste
Envies my luck
At getting a rare shade
Extracts a promise
To get one for her;
Pleased, I seek her tips
For repainting my house
I tell her I liked her decor
The last time I visited her;
After making a fresh list
Of what was new in the market
And what we needed to buy
We take leave, heads bursting
With the colours of desire

The deep

The hands are tired
From clappping
For those
Who leave little for others,
The throat is hoarse
From singing praises
To someone whose miracles
Include taking away
The little there is left,
The feet are weary
Of the mountain path
Leading to an empty shrine,
The eyes keep looking at the skies
Hoping for signs of cracks
The ears want to hear
The rumble of volcanoes in the deep
Which wants to give up the dead.