Night

I am not a nastic flower

That I have to shut down

With the onset of darkness

This December night when

The dew and stars arouse

The nyctophilia in me

I sneak out

To the woods behind

My hostel room just

To stand alone, feel the

Cold breeze on the face,

Listen to the psithurism,

Inhale the damp scents

Of tree and grass

Watch the bittens learn

To fly, circle and land

Against the sky ----

The cigarette smoke of

An intruder sends me

Rushing back inside ---

When will I ever have

You to myself without

The wolves coming sniffing.

Stars we named

It is so cold we wish we

Could have stored the little

Sunlight we had yesterday

In a vat like we do water 

When we have scarcity

Like we draw on memories

When the real turns us away

The full moon could do with

A beauty spot, you say and

Proceed to put a dot on it

There see the maiden blush

You laugh -- what a useless

Pair we are with our fanciful 

Thoughts and flights of lunacy

We all become redundant

Some day and our skies

Come crashing down and

In those shards will shine

The stars we ourselves named.

Christmas

It is too far to hear church bells

But Christmas cheer is in the air

Stars have been mounted at some

Houses along the way to the station

Most shops are decked up for the season

All of us can do with some miracles

Whether we believe in them or not

Anything to bring the smiles back 

To look forward to the next year

The falling dew could turn to nectar

If the silent universe is so inclined,

Regrets come barking like these dogs,

We need not have turned so old before 

We could be young for more nights

Time need not have rushed like this

Like a train making up for lost time,

The mind makes and unmakes the world

The darkness floods and recedes

The train home is just minutes away -----

There is no need to throw our hands up

This could be the night when we wake up.

Memories are warm

On this cold night after we

Have warmed ourselves

We fall back on memories

Remember the silent valley

That spoke in rising mists

I was stung by a bee for

The first time in life 

Sitting by the window

At a vegetarian restaurant

Later we ran into a swarm

Locals asked us to duck

Till it swept over

Nature behaved itself 

For the rest of our time there

It did not show its other face,

If we had been around

Long enough like the residents 

The hills would have palled 

We remind ourselves 

As we surrender to sleep.

Nowhere

There we are when we are not there

The doors open and close like flowers

Which know when to and when not to 

Against the wall we can see the rain fall

There are times when we want it to come

And times when we don't, like children

Weather keeps us guessing, whether or not

A giant fire is lit atop once volcanic hills

We have made a fetish of flames and fury

When the god comes down from the hills

He comes up with mundane demands

No one can ask him profound questions

On the meaning of life or what death holds

We can decipher dreams as nature's call

Nothing more as we go about our journey

Seeking directions on the way to nowhere.

Till we can't

Don't take Gibran's word for it

Go back to find you cannot go back

The television visuals show the streets

Of my native town flooded and my feet

Feel the water flowing around them

There were two theatres we frequented

My father and I, to escape home weather

In the square opposite the famous temple

Rationalists thundered against gods, myths

I remember the priest asking me to move

Throwing the flowers and ash at my hand

Careful not to touch, to avoid any pollution,

Nothing has changed there or elsewhere

The god of music himself cannot cross

The lines of caste and get nearer the shrine

The past draws borders we cannot cross

Only the memories of places we can own

The land and times we still carry with us

Exist no more out there; when we go back

We find out for ourselves we can't go back 

But can remember as well as we can,

Till we can't remember even the way back.

Flames of sorrow

Festivals are shadowed

By thoughts of the dead

When lamps are lit to mark

The defeat of darkness

The flames rekindle sorrow

Over those who have left ---

Father woke up lifeless that day

Days before the Deepam night

The rain came to mourn him,

When the last rites were over

The grey skies so burst out

The city and suburbs were flooded;

On phone brother recalls how

Friends and relatives struggled

To reach home from the funeral

We share recent dreams where

He reappeared and I tell him of one

Where he was lighting these lamps

And tasking us with tending them ---

Dreams bring back to us loved ones

Death took away and refused to return.

Kafka on the tree

Kafka is Czech for crow

I learn from the Murakami novel,

It is tempting to give our dark friend

From the neighbouring jamun tree

And demanding attention at odd hours

The Metamorphosis author's name;

These birds were once used on ships

To help sailors find their way to land

Hence their cry also denoted shore;

In Hindu mythology ancestors turn

Into Kafkas on days of remembrance

New myths are sought to be made

As actors seek to metamorphose

Into some avatar who like the black 

Cowherd-god can lead holy cows 

To pastures guarded by myth-busters

Not far away

The stars look like neurons

Firing in the neural network

Itself reflecting the universe

As it is far that constellation

Seems desirable as some jewel

That cannot be worn everywhere

The birds defy gravity as easily as

A baby floats in water without effort

The aliens are said to be among us

But we can be sure those who have 

Drifted far must be prime suspects

The unknown outstrips the known

For nothing stays the same anywhere

The hill we worship buries us alive

The sea we live by sweeps us away

Death comes when it seems far away.

Something

With the street lights too shut down 

The night has got its darkness back

The trees around are draped in black

The silence inside the house without

The talking heads is like music

Something has returned for us to keep

When the lights come on and we can't sleep

Desire

At night we can see time move

Languidly like a cat along the street,

The eyes follow the occasional vehicle

Till the taillights vanish round the corner,

Desire sometimes takes bizarre forms

Seeks to live other lives along with this

Feel the pulse of life inhabiting new skins

Look at the sky, moon through other eyes

Stand in the wind, be shaken as trees

Walk through the dreams of strangers

Who wake up early to talk to the universe

When it is not clear if it ever listens to us,

Sometimes we want to die before we die

Come back to tell the world we do not die.

Petrichor

During the rain break I hear the infant

Next door speak the language of cats

I have not seen its face or eyes or smile

Neighbours have to hide their newborns,

Till they are robust enough for outdoors

May the bundle of joy grow up to see

A world where touch or sight won't taint

And dreams don't have to be suicidal ----

Between chores I come to the window

To see if the drizzle has started again

A cloud the colour of snow rears up like

A revelation, catches the sun on its head

Turns dazzling white, holds its pose ----

It is wise to befriend the nonverbal

The sky, the petrichor and downpour 

Even the silent deity that speaks in dreams.

Movement

The stars are moving away

From the moving clouds,

All movement mesmerises

Stillness too if it is the sky

Or mind when no thought arises,

The stork is a study as it awaits

The chosen fish at its feet

Movement could be death

Stillness could be death too

When the predator is too close,

Time is predator and prey

Movement is distance, is time

How far is the same as how long

We find ourselves in the same place

Did we move at all or chose to be still?

River

I want to see my river

Be a river again 

Stand on its north bank

Watch it flow past me

With the temple towers

Watching me from the south

I want to just watch it

Without the myths, 

Without the words

Without the past

Without the future

Watch myself being swept away.

The mind is not old

When the feet turn unwilling

You can talk all you want

But cannot make them walk

Like they used to and take you

Wherever you want them to go

You remind them of the trek

In the pathless hills cliimbing

Through shrub and rock racing

With those taking the beaten path

Were these the same feet now

Unable to shuffle to the nearest shop?

The mind remembers the early morning

Dip in the Ganga in the coldest month

The body shivers now though swathed

In thick sweaters and shawls in a city

That is considered warm by the young

Even during its yearly cyclonic weather

The mind refuses to grow old even when

The eyes see the world through a haze

As silhouettes and shapes and shadows.