Last Stand

They banished me.
My lovers muttered – enraged.
Stamped, stubbed, thrown in the dustbin was I.
Exchanged furtively, struck in corners.
While my lover waited.
Silent, unable to breathe
Till his lips touched me.
Walk not on grass, smoke it!
The cry subdued.
Fools… they did not know.
I was what their fragrance was made of,
I the scent they’d never forget.

(On the occasion of the ban on smoking in North Campus)

"I would have treated her like a flower."

"I would have treated her like a flower."
He had told me, cupping yellow petals.
One slight movement, the gentlest touch.
A love remembered, nostalgia in place.

But this, a memory...
A glimpse of a boy in spring.
When butterflies fluttered, March mornings came alive.
I sat listening to a man narrate his longing.

He spoke of a delicate love,
One that rooted deep.
There were tinges of purple,
Scarlet, when his passion had blazed

Strokes he wanted to leave.
Those marks he wanted to absorb,
Screams that touched his beloved.
Gather them, her and cease.

Wrapped in words his love,
Left me the tale,
His love, and mine.

Debates on poetry

We sat down to lunch today,
(Talked of love and song)
The waiter bungled the order,
Clarifications were necessary.
Grey, black, white – they made pictures,
(It was a collection of haiku, I looked at)
Tomatoes, onion and green chillies
Bread and philosophy were tough, a little burnt.

Steel clattered, scooping rice, dal and eggs.
(Connections and markets were the norm)
A pack of Goldflake, in the corner tossed
The cigarette’s last stand.
Plastic, wood, brick and the sky,
(“Poetry is made of nothing”, said one)
Tea undid the chill
I paid and left.

"zindagi kaisi chal rahi hai?"

alright, surprisingly an attempt at creation in hindi... this was in response to the oft asked question "zindagi kaisi chal rahi hai?"

zindagi chal rahi hai...
kabhi dheere, kabhi tez...
apni raftaar woh mere liye nahi badalti...
kabhi woh mere aage hoti hai,
kabhi woh mere peeche.
raftaar uski aur main us se alag.
ham kabhi ek nahi hue,
hue toh yeh nahi dekha,
ki hum main se kaun tez hua,
aur hum main se kaun dheere.

zindagi chal rahi hai...
uski apni kahaani hai,
jo kehti hai mujhse
tu likh,
par jab main likhti hoon,
toh na kahaani meri rehti hai,
na uski,
woh toh kisi teesre ki ho jaati hai.

Aur woh teesra kaun, aap poochenge,
Woh aap hi toh hain.
Jo sun rahe hain,
padh rahe hain.
yeh kavita, yeh kahaani
ab aap ki hai,
aur main puch rahi hoon -
zindagi kaisi chal rahi hai?