NO, IT DOESN'T

 

My rolling up in a pile 

amidst my blankets;

hugging my pillow close;

the darkened windows;

my apathy to food

or wanting too much;

and water-can-waits;

friends are such nuisances - 

so much drama!

Going out?

Pish!

Too much bother!

And I've seen this series before -

they're all the same.

I'll never lose weight;

and anyways he wasn't my boyfriend -

he just liked her more...

move on...

No it doesn't - 

you're imagining it.

Nothing I've said

has anything to do with depression.

POSTER - ICKY

Elections and posters go hand in hand

Mug-plastered all over the city.

I would like to be on posters too!

There’s Glory! And there! And there! And there!

There, there, there…

Going by the Law of Diminishing Returns

You’d actually be going

Wow!

Oh yeah?

Shucks!

Crap!

That’s cheap!

Sic!

Forget it!

Turn away!

Silence.

Posters…first lesson in self-defeat.

 

 

MORNING THOUGHTS

Fish in bowl

Bowl in Sunlight

Dancing waters

Crazy colours

Coloured pebbles

Leaf

Little fish resting on leaf…

I sip my coffee

At peace with the world.

 

I AM NOTHING

This morning

I looked in the mirror

A beautiful person stared back at me

but then...

I looked at the slim stereotype model

and compared to her

I don't matter

I am NOTHING.

I am a homemaker

through the day

I cook amazing meals

I clean, I take care of all my family's needs

I am their friend, my children's teacher,

a tailor when they tear their clothes

a nurse when they're sick

a storyteller, a counsellor par excellence

an interior decorator, a artist when they ask those charts in school..

but then...

I saw this woman with her handbag 

making for her office, beating the traffic

and earning money

and compared to her

I don't matter

I am NOTHING.

I am so good at computers

in office, I am the go-to person

to resolve a glitch

the one they depend on to get things done.

Am in a steady relationship 

and I further my studies

and I can sing like a nightingale

but then...

I look at those who have a bevy of friends 

around them

and seem to breeze through life

and compared to them

I don't matter

I am NOTHING.

 

DEAR NARCISSIST

Dear Narcissist

Not all I say is about you

My posts aren't about you

My speech isn't about you

Social media isn't about you

The world isn't about you

There are rules made without your consent

There are lives that don't live by your rules

Someday, you'll get thrown out of the spinning Earth 

in a tangent

And lie there still thinking

I'm too good for them

These talks, these poems, these posts, these rules, these lives

are aaaaaaall about you.

 

WHAT'S THERE TO BE POSITIVE ABOUT?

Think Positive they keep saying

and I try

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why did you die?

Why did they kill you?

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why were you raped?

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why was justice reserved for some

and came too late for others?

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why did you lose your loved one?

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why did you call just to insult me?

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why did you celebrate when I lost and you won?

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why are there sooooo many children and women hurting so bad?

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why were there laborers walking home while I protected myself from Covid and stayed inside with food on my table and a roof over my head?

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why did you hear me out just to do just the opposite of what I asked?

Just when I'm thinking positive

why did the seals in Antarctica die?

And 

Just when I'm thinking positive

Why are there so many painful programs on Netflix?

And yet, I must think positive

meditate, ruminate, and shut out all the crap that's happening

because my thoughts can 'affect' my body

So lead me like the proverbial lamb

to the slaughter house of Positive Thinking.

SEMMOZHI PARK - CHENNAI

Time spent with wife and kids

No peak hour traffic, deadlines or late hours

Watch my two-year-old

move around like a clockwork doll

Present her a flower and leaf

and revel in her wonder

Throw ball to little fella

He falls flat on his face and pretends to sleep

Wife points to the trees -

to racing squirrels.

Hold hands and walk around the pond

Little ones run in front

Twilight hours

The lights go on....

Thank you Chennai!

 

don’t we all know 

how to live in a shell -

secretly alive...

 

REMEMBER THE TIME?

Remember the time

I shared with you my fascination

for ancient civilizations

Those broken mud pots

Their funny weapons

Their quaint paintings

Their lifestyle so different

from ours

But the sky was the same then too

The Moon shone just as bright

There was then too a Bloody Moon

The Venus still spoke Love

And Saturn buzzed with so many rings!

Remember the time

I said I wish we were in a time machine

Or moved far away and flowed with the river

Moved back in time or forward

Now just part of a landscape

encompassing a Universe?

ONLY YOU

gentle waves

and thoughts of you

overlap...

down the lane

old familiar tune

honeysuckle fragrance

wafting in gentle breeze...

green grass

on hillock

the lone willow weeps

cold winter day

our thoughts intertwine

eyes speak candor

Only you

only you...

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.

WHY?

There was no destiny

No mercy

No rationale

No omen

No prediction

No protection

And no God.

Just a shoot out.

WHAT WRITING IS LIKE

Writing is like

There’s no Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

It's like there's no 1 o’ clock, 2 o’ clock, 3 o’ clock, 4 o’ clock....12 o’ clock.

There's no morning, mid-morning, mid-afternoon, evening...

There's no from 1 pm to 6 pm

‘cause that's the time your brain won't work.

There's no “I can beat this, I can do it,

nothing is impossible”

‘cause writing will go “haaa! haaa! haaaa!!”

as you stare blankly into space.

Writing is like “don't have pets;

You never know when you'll have to walk out on them.”

Writing is like “Don't be regular dude;

if you're gonna do a program every Sunday,

that’s when you're gonna be wanting to write.”

Writing can be so many cups of coffee?

Writing is like your live-in partner who can ditch you anytime but also your One True Love.

Writing is like count backwards up to 5 and you'll get going

so here goes: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, zzzzzzzz....

G’night!

BURIED ALIVE

In the graveyard of the buried alive

she screamed and groaned...

moaned

and they sighed...

another one

to tell a story

It was the best day of my life (she said)

there from my coffin

in my best clothes

mascara, rouge and lipstick -

I could hear them praise me soft and low

twas pure bliss!

people in black and mourning

with nothing but good to say of me

highlighting my achievements

played down my bad

and I had been waiting

my whole life for this!

and then they were there

these people in black

my friends, foes

and I don't knows

kissing me on my forehead

bidding me goodbye

hardly aware that i was screaming

silently - no one heard my cry

my mind registered bouquets

a malicious eye or two

some tears spilt to wet my face

a whispered word from you

and then they gently closed the lid

and nailed it into place

and lowered me down by ropes

down into the hole

and threw mud upon my face.

hey! 'don't do that!' i cried from where within

i could hear the muddy rain

but bury me they did and an epitaph -

"Buried alive - never to be heard of again!"

OFFICE BLUES

In the stillness
Someone coughed
Someone yawned
Boss on phone
He – 
Control A
Control C
Control V
Copy-pasting
My thoughts
In his diary.
The whirring fan
My ice-cold 
stare
Blank at screen
Her tinkling laughter
jarrs on my tired brain
Switch off.
Time to go home...

A GAME OF NON-LOVE

you shuffle a pack of cards

and deal

and i pick up

and we play

the game of assumptions

you assume i am yours

so i tell you i am yours

and wait to hear you

never say

you are mine

you assume i love you

so i tell you i love you

and wait to hear you

never say

i love you too

you assume i am hurt

so to tell you i am hurt

and wait to hear you

never say

i'm sorry

you assume we're together

so i say we're together

and wait to hear you 

never say

we're together

and then...

you assume we're done

so i tell you we're done

and wait to hear you...

never say

we're done.

and so...the game goes on

you assuming, i presuming

two lovers in a pack

one a clover, one a spade

not a single heart in the stack.

THE RE-SET BUTTON

Somewhere in her

there is a re-set button - 

have you seen it?

She was doing well 

when she married you

and then, one day, you woke up

and everything went haywire -

she was there sometimes

and sometimes she wasn't.

She came, she went,

She came, she went,

She smiled...but her smile faded into sadness...

There were no tears, mind you!

And so, you thought that

she'll come back.

But, one day, you woke up - 

and she wasn't there!

You called. You tried to recall what went wrong?

You called again, and they askedd, "Did you do the re-set?"

"Re-set? re-set! What re-set??"

"The re-set button to her heart...to her feelings - 

Start all over again

Tell her you love her; tell her till she knows;

tell her she's the only one.

Woo her with flowers; take her out to dinner;

show her that

you may not be perfect, but,

you will still try!

Show her...because she matters.

Show her - till she knows.

Re-set the button

till the green light glows!"

THE DOOMED LOVERS

He stood there leaning over,
With arm against darkened tree,
While she ran across, light and swift,
Anxious – and yet glad to be free.

He stood there admiring,
The golden sunset,
Yet turned sharply at the sound
Of her tinkling anklet.

Stopped short in full flight
She looked into his eyes,
Sheer joy of beholding!
And in his arms in a trice!

The Sunset and chirping birds,
Their charm failed to hold,
As she was his, and he was hers,
In their completed world.

And smiling understandingly,
The Sun did go down,
And gentle, smiling Moon cast spell,
In moonlight their love to drown.

The firmly rooted tree,
With protective branches, was their mother.
Guarding from wicked, grinning night eyes,
Them – made for each other.

Separating for a moment,
He said, “My precious love,
I’m sure no couple like us,
Forever and for now.”

“Yes!” she agreed heartily,
“How perfectly we blend!
Heart for heart! Soul for soul!
With nothing to amend!”

“Such a wondrous union I’m sure
In Heaven can’t be found,
If found, some flaw in them,
Some discord, I’ll be bound.”

“Oh dear! I do wonder,
What would happen then to us?
Should God look down and see our love,
And turn quite jealous.

Then such a rumble sounded,
That both looked up in fright,
The Heavens parted into two,
And lit up the dark night!

A lethal ray came flying,
And struck upon their head,
And within moments of their saying,
The lovers lay there dead.

PATTERNS OF COMPLETENESS

In a humdrum world

of human noises

we tango

A Give and Take

A Throw and Catch

A Yes and No

A This and That.

Moving apart

To come together.

The Sun, Moon, and Stars

Are some tunes

We dance to.

Falling is not a pain.

Bruises are not some hurts.

Thoughts and actions but

experiences.

Sometimes,

compatibility is a silence

and aloneness is a together.

Parting then too

is a stitch 

in the pattern of completeness

and letting go remains

another way to hold.

STILL RAINING...

I can hear the pitter-patter over the tiles 

of the small room that houses 

the watchman's meager belongings

the plop as a drop fell off my window pane

the gurgling through the pipes overflowing

someone is walking with gumboots

one step at a time

through the water pool that's accumulated

outside my front door

and I can gauge the amount of water 

by the sound of water between each step

how long it has rained 

by when the chorus of mating frogs begins

Ah, on this dark night

Rain my sole companion

curled up in bed

and from within the comfort of my blankets

I hear the pitter-patter, plops and drops

as it rains all night.