ADVICE TO A YOUNG LOVER

Darling, if you love me
Never tell me so
Words of love are tedious
They lost their meaning a while ago
As I woke from my noontime siesta

No better than caterwauls
Or screeching chalks on blackboards,
Declarations of love are annoying

Grapes are not sour;
Post-glut, I am hyperglycaemic

MONOLOGUE

*PROLOGUE*
I thought I had seen it all,
Heard it all
But you prove me wrong yet again

I agree I owe you one, la vie

*I*
Mercury-vapour lamps with halos; cupric ripples in jet black puddles; lonesome croaks in dark thickets; purple sky and violet billows…
It is drizzling in the provincial roads and by-lanes

Is it the same now, in a distant city of students and steaks? Or in that bumbling metropolis, which stifles me, where dwell the lovers and the fools?

I entertain myself with nouvelle dresses and dishes
And paperbacks to devour
And iced drinks to gulp
Ashtrays urgently waiting for refills
Tangling unsuspecting victims
All unexpected trysts with bliss

*II*
Let us go then you and I, where velocity dwells upon the sky
Like a Windows’ Starfield screensaver
And I shall confess how I love you no more
How I love no one
How I can not, any more
And may you witness the spectacle of
Boiling blood bursting like bubble gums
Erupting from my ENT cavities
Grass green bile
Oozing from sundry lacerations which
Decorate my drain-board abs

*III*
She waited, in vain
It was stupid of her
I waited in vain, equally so
But now I wait no more

Confused, you say…
Been there, done that.
Survival is 42
I danced in the rain all evening
And I never felt like crying.

*EPILOGUE*
Thank you for all the fish
You owe me one, la vie

Tagore: PRAKRITI 118

The night reverberates with the monsoon’s drone
As I string the aching memories all alone
The door to my room, dark, is kept ajar,
I wonder in what oversight
I suppose my companion is coming:
my friend for this plaintive night
With his coming he renders music to the rain
And the Kadamba grove shivers in pleasure
Even if he never arrives, I shall hope in vain
Placing our mat on the dust for good measure

MEANING

I ask you: ‘Is love still there?’
‘Don’t know…think so’, you say
Meaning: there is none.

Then why do you call me so,
Talking of life and us?
Meaning, there is none.

DREAMS FOR AN INDIAN SUMMER

By the window, pretty mauve
Flowers quiver in the breeze
Now you place one in my hair,
On my forehead: a moist kiss

The mauve blossoms have withered
To traces of sickly pink
The bleaching glare of summer
Leaves colours in dreams alone

The heat, the haze, the fever
The wakeful dreams in stupor
Long are these days: never-ending;
The nights, sleepless and sweaty

AUTBIOGRAPHIC HEPTALOGY

I

I could hear the ravens caw
In a sky of vaporized blood
I could see the shadows move
And they called me, called me, called me.
I could hear the whisper still
O how that nightmare lingers

II

Wishing upon a star
With an ache and furtive sighs
Quietly first love dies.
I could taste the teardrops still
O how the friendship lingers

III

Now my bed is grass
Now my cover: the night
Raindrops in halogen glitter
As I tread along in stupor.
I could feel the shivers still
O how the madness lingers

IV

In an unknown city you lay
Up unknown streets and quarters
But do I find you there?
I could smell the damp fags still
O how foolishness lingered

V

Have we been together a week?
Or may be for a year
So, I stab you with a knife
And I stab you with a knife
And I stab you with a knife.
I could see the warm blood still
O how the heartaches linger

VI

You cry, I weep
I cry, you weep
We fail and try and fail
Now am past all words
Now am there no more
Snakes in my head and lizards in my shanks
O how existence lingers

VII

Six feet under earth and poop
There burns my final pyre
And I hear the ravens caw
And I taste the salty streaks
And I feel the chilly wind
I smell the dreams all up in smoke
And I see the gaping wounds

PROMISES ARE MEANT TO BE BROKEN

We wish you were there
In drunken dreams, in love
In times of desperation
And aching gaps of existence

Former love, we say
But who are we kidding?
We long for you evermore
The present lies steeped in a past

It was so full of dreams of the future

One tires of love and friendship
One tires of all good intensions
One really does tire of good advice soon
I guess we shall never love again

I pass on the coin you gave
I trample, I tread, I slaughter
What goes around, goes around, around
And promises, they are meant to be broken

NERIUM

Save me from life
I shall give you love
And the sour Plumeria stalks of my breasts
The sweat-moistened softness of my breasts
The speckled-viper poison of my breasts
The cinnamon scented peaks of my breasts

With every bite and moan shall I receive heaven
And my blood will blossom in Neriums

Save me from life
I shall get you death
And a lance-stab pain in your breast
A pulverised heart in your breast
A wide open split in your breast
Maggot-infested holes in your breast

With every bite and moan you will embrace hell
And your blood shall blossom in Neriums

2:45

Right here is a world of dreams
And a world of wakefulness
Their denizens, you and I
It was all very charming though!

The smell of garlic, sautéed
Huge fluffed pillows, black
Gin ’n’ apple nectar, 2:00
Movies and cigarettes

May be a lunch for the three?
(Speaking for me, rather not.)
Yes, you always did believe
All that I said, to a fault.

Not being able to say
What I ought to: that was mine
So, did I come here for this?
Not merely, at least…I hope.

And I keep asking myself
Was this first visit only
To say good bye to old times?
More convincingly, may be?

WINTER IN THE CAPITAL

Cold hands, cold feet
Just the memory of a sun
Remind me again, why I'm here...
There — the phone rings.

That does ring a bell too:
You have surely moved on
So have I, I suppose
Just a pang still remains
Lost time never returns
Nor love, when you give up.

Tagore: NATYAGEETI, 11

O friend, what is care? O friend, what is pain?
You all talk of ‘love’ time and again —
What is called love, O dear friend?
Is it full of woes to the end?
Is it only tears? Only sighs of grief?
Such plight men desire for what relief?

All I behold is beauty divine
All full of youth, all is so pure,
Verdant gardens, and skies azure,
Petal-soft moonlight — all is like mine.

They know only laughter, only songs do they know,
in playful mirth do they come and go
No trace of sorrow, no lament to share
They know not the distress of care.

The flowers, they wither with a smile
With a smile does the moonlight fade
Scattering laughter in an ocean of lights
The stars disappear in the shade

Who is there as contented as I?
O friend do come by my side —
With a gay song of my heart’s delight
shall the weight of your heart be light

You only want to grieve everyday
let us make merry for once
For once forgetting all sorrow
let us all sing and dance

L’ABATTOIR De L'AMOUR

With words we duel
Beastly lord and me, nightlong.
Pitiless passion

Tired submission.
And the beast evanesces
His oestrum sated

Tattered I lay
On the shores of a moon-sea
Caput mortuum

HAIKU

Shivering winter.
Lonely on a double bed
My blankets miss you.

*

Love is there no more

And I am done with mourning.

Only weariness.

*

The hours crawl by.
Creaking stretches punctuate
Listless existence.

ON BEING SINGLE AGAIN

Ah! The geyser is working again. The fruity smell of the shampoo trickles down the spine washing away a whole day at office. Wrapping around the dry freshness of the towel he emerges into an evening date with self.

All books are reread, all paintings unripe, all music jarring for the hour. The blanket suggests tobacco and Trika. Insects gather round the brilliant filaments: epitome of absurdity…epitome of life. He switches off the lights.

No ring disturbs the slumber
But a 3:00 a.m. nightmare and tears, none to hold him close.
In the morning however, it all feels liberating.

C'EST LA VIE

To love is an exquisite pain
Being loved is only half as interesting.
*
Life is a great big booze party
Death seems to be the hangover.
*
Undying love requires the peculiar passion of youth
Then over the years, it becomes an occasional feeling.

ABSURDITY OVERCOME

A hot shower
A worn out silken scarf
Chicken broth and toast

The smell of well bound books
And Linseed mixed with turp
The light at the end of a wakeful night,
Tobacco, toils and burning eyes

Simple pleasures are the only luxury the complex can afford.

Tagore: PREM O PROKRITI, 71

Nothing shall remain as you take your leave
But the pain you gifted me in parting

In your whim you come to my arbour
All shall I cover that you trample on your way
Only sweet pain will keep me company
As the darkness descends at the end of the day

The plaintive strains of the farewell flute
Now fills the evening sky
O beautiful sorrow shall live evergreen
Nurtured by the tears of goodbye

THE WHY AND WHY OF THINGS

No one knows how the story began
Nor why it ended so abruptly
Separation of light-years within seconds
A tangible, palpable separation
Aliens from amigos
Strangers lost in time, space
And fondness

But I know why
It was love

It was love which grew out of nowhere
For no apparent reason
And with no possibilities

Great expectations mushrooming unnoticed
Unintended
Uncalled-for

Unrequited love
(They have made it a cliche)

But now, attachments none
Habituation of the heart brings only pain

CAFE

Loneliness engulfs in noxious vapours
Drops of longing trickle by my heart
I order another coffee

It is innocuous actually
There has been more harm for far lesser cause
Been more crazy for far less love

INSOMNIA 2

My ears still remember the whisper of your breath
My skin still bears the warmth of your limbs
The fragrance of your curls still linger in my dreams
But you are not here anymore

As I lay tossing on my bed
Waiting for the truant sleep
An electric dream burns my vision
Oh! What shall be my penance?