Giving

I like the way the sky goes quiet

When the clouds gather before rain

The daylight not wanting to stand in the way

Defers to where it is more welcome

I think of where a river is kept back

Not allowed to flow the way it is meant to

When not belonging anywhere but to everyone

I have heard its roar where I was born

Looked at it, trembling, its other bank out of sight

Wondering at what all it birthed

From granary to god to inequity

May the catchment rains come with mercy

And the river break free of human chains

Teach giving to the given 

Forgiveness to the unforgiving.

Gift horse

Look a gift horse in the mouth

It could be a decoy of the enemy

Sent to lull you to lay down arms

Troy was breached with such a ploy

Mythology is full of such warnings

Temptation comes clothed in innocence

As a deer, as an apple, as a dare

To go without food or action is testing

The devil comes with its ill counsel

To turn stones to bread or test fate

Or turn your back on privation

And choose a lifetime of riches

Trade priceless values for a price

Horses revert to foxes, a king is foxed

A temple built with money meant to buy horses

All is fair in religion and politics

What to say of proxies not seen as such

Impostors who lie their way to the throne

Who make people believe in their make-believe

And entice them like sirens to their death.

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.