THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

You are beautiful.

And you know it.

And I, my shapeless body

Clad in a loose-fitting

Faded nightie

With an apron thrown over it -

A ladle in my hand

Watch.

As you walk down the ramp

In your swimsuit

Your hour-glass figure

And bare legs

Toned to perfection.

The sheen in your hair

Reflects the care 

Your laughing eyes

And cheery smile

Make me forget

That the milk is boiling over........

And then you open your mouth to speak....

And that's when

I reach for my cell phone

My SMS

To decide your fate.

BATCHES OF DREAMS

I dream in batches now
there's a batch of dreams
about the day we ran into each other
remember?
hoping not to be seen..
Pretending to be surprised.



Just so 
the batches continue
into another stream of sublime disbliss
there's someone else in your life now
you're married 
but I 
What of I?
the batches have no answer
they streamline instead to a boat
down a river to Nowhere

I've seen this Sun set before
Yes, there were crimsons and yellows
Not reds, no...
Reds came with your marriage
That left the bleeding scar

Rains turned to icicles.

In batch dreams you can get pierced
till you bleed through the other side
Death then becomes deathlessness -
A prolonged writhing.

I ran in my batches of dreams
chasing my mirage
Of cool waters and green meadows -
Your promises
They now stream
As tears down my face
In batches of despair.

AFTERMATH

Aftermath

Of living on the high lane -

In my pajamas

A cup of strong coffee

And aspirin.

Staring blankly

As I click channels.

Somewhere at the back of my mind

Is a hazy recollection

Of a commitment not met.

 I cannot care less.

My body aches.

I need...respite.

Shades drawn close

Silhouettes 

Books, movies and music

Musings and my muse

Relaxed, I shut my eyes

And curl up

In an aftermath.

DEATH CERTIFICATE

What does it matter

What he thought

wore

spoke

thought

ate

liked

loved

dreamt

wrote

read

enjoyed

studied

worked at?

What does it mattter 

what he endorses -

when he is now

a grave

a fir 

a post mortem report

a policy

some benefits

a savings

a death certificate

a pension

a will?

An attested true copy of white paper -

A colorless passport to someone's life?

TO MY DAUGHTER

how often will you travel the world?
hills and plains and cities unfurl
praying plans don't go awry
your mind on high
while i...

you save for your trip
on your days get a grip
book tickets to fly
your mind on high
while i...

the day has arrived!
things in order contrived
settle in seat with happy sigh
your mind on high
while i...

and for days you're gone
in groups and alone
through the world you will fly
your mind on high
while i...

while i here will wait
my eyes down the road by the gate
to you, your world
to me, mine...
yes, you'll travel the world
while i...

WHERE LEAD THESE PATHS?

Where lead these paths?

dumpy, lumpy, ditchy

narrow, narrower, broad

Winding, unwinding

neverending

Is there a destination

Or do I determine one?

Follow the Universe

Or tell it where to go?

Lead or be led?

Am I guided or thwarted?

Accidental or planned?

Where lead these paths?

dumpy, lumpy and ditchy

Winding, unwinding

neverending....

DEAR BELOVED ACROSS THE GLOBE

last night i washed the dishes

hung the clothes

locked the door and turned key

set alarm, brushed my hair

moisturizer, digestives

placed a torch close by

just in case...

cleans sheets and pillow case

the right meds by my bedside

and went to sleep...

and when it dawned

it was saturday

my weekend 

coins of time in my purse

for my spending at will

i dwadle over a cup of coffee

check out why my fingers burn on google

ruminate over a thousand things

run a leisurely bath

and plan my day...

while you, my beloved 

across the globe

wash dishes

hang clothes

lock the door and turn key

set alarm, brush your hair

moisturize, digestives

placed a torch close by

just in case...

cleans sheets and pillow cases

the right meds by your bedside

and go to sleep...

and you and i...

how can we

reconcile our differences

while you sleep Friday night

on my Saturday morning?

WHAT'S ON THE MENU?

Look at you

so frail, pale and ethereal

across the table

Your shy smile uncertain

I place my hand over yours

my warmth seeping into you

my strength reassuring

my eyes kind

the crimson has slowly spread over your face

your eyes downcast

i place my other hand over yours too

and lead you from the table

to the terrace

it's good you don't know

that foreplay is listening to you talk

interest in your views

laughing at your jokes

showing you the moon

the stars

hey, i have insecurities too!

till you smile into my eyes -

"you're a good man!"

and i put my arms around your

now pliant body

and you smile into my eyes -

"i'm ready."

STALKER'S TALK

it's all back in time

the Sun just rose in the west

doesn't mean it's not dawning

see i'm not yawning

i'm out of bed

and calling you instead

maybe you ordered cake

and was served bread

red can be pink

which makes me think

red is pink 

milestones can be homeward

kissing can be a bite

laughing can be silence

demonetizing can be right

unraveling can be knitting

democracy can be a dump

shuffling cards can be a winner

winning can be a slump

oh yes!

the Sun rises in the west

and i can put it to test

'cause each time you say you don't love me

all i hear 

is "i love you, you're the best."

NIGHT OWLS

night owls

have big eyes

they grow bright

as day flies

night arrives

they arrive

night owl

on twig branch

silhouette against moon

can see what others can't

who stir in their sleep

uneasy that something flew by their window

I'M DEAD...MY POETRY LIVES

i'm dead

my poetry lives

you may do as you please 

with my poems

be kind to them

don't trample on them

don't throw them away

as obsolete

let not the papers fly in the wind

and find home 

in a faraway pond

to sink ink

to the bottom

don't take me for granted

think back to what i would have wanted

done with my poems

share them with others

pass them from hand to hand

so they can read too

and wonder at my thoughts

my profile pic is not my choice any more

nor is my resume

i remain the same year after year

but let my poems

bring forth a New Spring

again and again.

SEE YOU NEXT BIRTH?

you were my childhood

that escaped into mosquito nets

with fireflies in matchboxes

you were little teapots and pans

little make believe world of dolls and doll weddings -

my sons getting married to your daughters

your palanquins making way to my house

mothers were fascinations, were they not?

they wore saris, those very long pieces of clothes

that we draped just like them

over our frocks

beetroot lipsticks and rouge

mamma's high heels and her handbag to match

her high pitched voice borrowed as we mimicked

'shall we go to the market?'

yes! the onions are so costly!

dance steps practiced diligently

frocks flying, hair flying...

our lives flew too

we were teenagers then 

we discussed boys

your mother taught you to cook

mine, to part ways

from you

to lead my life

while you led yours

women now

we lived knowing

childhood was a different birth

the now, the woman, is the one who lives

the one who births

the one who puts herself last on the list

the one who lives unquestioning...

i wonder now

did i even question that i may never see you again?

did i want to see you again?

did you want to see me again?

or did we bid goodbye

thinking

see you next birth?

TO MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND

Dear One Without Destiny

why did you come into this world?

why did you leave?

also-ran

in a large family

cursed and unwanted

you lived

trying to make sense of 

dreams your parents said were yours

only to find 

that when the nightmare began

they were gone!

your screams turned to meaningless tears

the unseemly god

who knew not and cared not

for the one without destiny

turned to dust

leaving me to sing a soliloquy

for the one who knew not

why she was born.

SELF-SABOTAGE

plodding on 

was making excuses

see? i'm doing stuff

to get there

to where it's all too big

the sheer magnitude

of the stage!!

that's where i want to be - 

limelight

from 'popular' to 'well known'

from petty human foibles

to thinking Humanity

from regional

'in your country'

to global

'resolving of issues'

paparazzi?

no.

.....no.

....NO!!

digging up my past

questioning an angle that never occurred to me - 

placing me in a glass house

leaving me

frantically looking for the door!

and that's why permanent threshold is good

pretending to 'get there' is good

uneasy existence is good.

to die not knowing

is good.

MISSING RIMONA/MISSING MOM BY GLORY AND RIMONA

 MISSING RIMONA BY GLORY


Why is everything in place?
This picture-perfect
Museum-house!!


Where is her dirty towel
Draped carelessly over the chair?


Where are those tiny wet lips
Rubbed arrogantly
On my nightie
After a meal? 



Empty sofas mock me
The days I had picked up 
her helmet and bag and
Paraphernalia
so diligently



In the stillness that rings 
So eerie around the house
I hear Eminem's now silenced voice leer



Clean floors bear marks
Of her missing wet footprints
padding across the hall
towel-wrapped and doe-eyed.



Empty lids over empty vessels
Wait for the voice that screamed,
"MUMMY!! WHERE'S MY BREAKFAST?"



Her room echos her presence 

Every nook and corner



Hrithik flaunts his biceps in vain

There's no girlish hero worship to check them out
Rimona!  Don't talk back at me like that!
Rimona, it's time to go!
Rimona, you wretched child, how dare you!


Rimona!  Don't cry.....


"Rimona" I had called 
Into the world
And christened
An held in my arms
And looked with wonder
This epitome of my love


Rimona, I must not call out your name
Lest you come back


Just.....
My heart rings hollow
All my love gone and spent
A lone tear remains
This mother's right 
To grieve.



RIMONA'S REPLY

MISSING MOM

The dirty towel dries 
Carefully hung on the rod inside my cup-board
My bed sheet folded neatly
And my things arranged in a corner.



Playing loud music seems like a waste of time
When there's no you around to irritate 
There's no mischief secretly done anymore
Or any sly remarks that'll be met with indignation.



Oh what a sight it was to see
The silent Golum gobbling up all the fish
And also anything that's available
When ironically she would have claimed that very morning
"I'm going on a diet from today, oh yes I am!"


All the intentional rude conversations
And the philosophical revelations made
In the darkness, thanks to the power cut
Lies a distant whisper along the blurred memory lane


I hear your voice, "MONA!!"
In that tone that irritates me the most
Calling out to me through
The emptiness that surrounds me here.


Mom, I had happily taken advantage of you
Troubled you as only I can
Lived on top of you...

 Just.....
My heart rings hollow now
All my inspiration to be rude gone and spent
A lone tear remains
This daughter's right 
To grieve.

WHAT IS IT I SEEK?

Therapist I do not need

'cause I introspect

and I introspect this constant need

to get high - 

to walk into a mall and splurge on clothes

when there's a wardrobe full;

to eat processed or stale food at a restaurant

when I could cook fresh food at home

for half the price;

the need to party;

the need to run out of the house

or search the refrigerator for what's not there.

What is it I'm seeking?

What's the high?

I look around and know I chose

to be by myself, a deliberate choice

but I look around and see the choice I made

and it takes more and more to get my dopamine levels going

and having successfully shunned family and friends and love,

I now seek a high that does not exist.

CORPORATE

I let you confine me to a cubicle

name-plate me

ring a tag around my neck - 

my ID crisis

Define who I am

According to your will

Assess me on your weighing scales

One to ten

Place me somewhere at five

Permanently

So I don't get way above you

Where you cannot reach

Or way below

To be of any use

To hold me there

You open your toolbox

Each turn a new tool:

For a laugh 

It could be a cold shoulder

For queries it could be 

A mute

Explanations?

A deaf ear

Yes....I let you

Passively 

Hold me captive

Patiently still

While you clip my wings

Wondering all the time

"But what can you do

About the quietly growing wisdom

In my mind.....??"

LITTLE NUANCES

how
with little nuances you own me!
with a wave of your hand -
'let's go!'
with your eyes -
'there's place besides me'
i laugh, you revel
i win -
you swell with pride
i cough, you turn
i give up -
you advance


little nuances
that confuse me
how can this be
that no one else can see
the storm you rake up 
with a glance

CYCLONE

Sitting by the window, 
dark day, quiet birds, howling wind
blowing away roof tops and felling trees like a true champ, resisting the temptation to give in to my wilder side and go to the terrace and get blown away, 
turning instead to the darkness, wondering whether i should let it flow within, 
or let the light within flow without, 
choosing to light the Philosophical Candle instead to watch it flicker and wonder if going aflame was really worth it, 
while my stomach rumbles reminding me there's nothing to eat, and nothing to cook with the fridge so bare, 
i slap at the inadvertent mosquito, 
wondering what to do when my phone dies out too....
bracing myself for a looooong night - and through it all it rains!

WHY?

There was no destiny

No mercy

No rationale

No omen

No prediction

No protection

And no God.

Just a shoot out.

PIGEONS

There are pigeons in the terrace

I spend dawns with them

They watch the crazy lady

bend and stretch

 pray to the rising Sun with folded hands

They walk along the railing

like waddling bow-legged old men

making chortling noises in their throats

'you think she's crazy,' chortles one

'you betcha!' says another

the white fan-tailed beauty couldn't care less

she preens aloof from the drab regular grey-blues

and i thank god no nasty pigeon-catcher

can get to her

down to earth

i sometimes find a pigeon hiding

and pick it up carefully

for a pigeon comes down to earth

only to die.

VERY GOOD OMENS

First day at work (yey!)

Switched off alarm and overslept (habit!)

Charger! Charger! (not under the sofa - I looked)

Where are my slippers??

It's a bad-hair day (frizzz!!)

The lining of my handbag caught the zip (why - must - it - do -that??)

Breakfast, some measly dry bread en route (water, please!)

I never calculated the traffic jam (damn!)

Been there for the interview, but the streets all look alike (ya, ya, this one. no, no, that one)

One round...two round (in confused silence)

Finally!! (i passed this building - twice)

Just half hour late!

"I'm sorry! Am I late?" (embarrassed smile :)