Dreams

It is dreamers who change reality

The one who imagined landing

On the moon took the first steps

For others to make the giant leap

Do not stop with prayers, for god

Helps those who help themselves

To show the way to help others --

The man or woman who dreamt

Of what lay beyond the horizon

Must have made the first catamaran

Setting off Man on his endless journey

That travels both ways and finds gold

On distant planets and coaxes

Clouds to shed gold on fallow land ---

Dreams have a way of coming true

So dream till you become the dream.

A second time

If you were old and headed

For where everyone old is

Certain to arrive not in any

Particular order and living

In a street like this where

The elderly with offspring

All settled abroad have 

Settled for their last years

The arrival of ambulances

To carry off someone who

Had a fall in brahma muhurtam

Is not very uncommon and

Sends your heart racing with

Thoughts of that dreaded rendezvous ----

More than dying, leaving the other behind

Or being left behind is more terrifying,

Who wants to be orphaned again?

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.

Agnihotris

The brick-lined
Homam site
In the hall
Is still warm
The fire still alive
Under the ash,
Children offer paper petals
Imitate the 'swaha' chant
Of the priests
Who have all gone ---
Smoke begins to rise
Forcing the grown-ups
To cry halt to their game,
The little flames
Dance away on lithe feet
To where they conjure
Another fire, other sacrifices.