The Concubine's song

Between us
There is neither
The void of a lusty night
Nor the fulfillment
Of a love filled kiss

Yet in this lost
Moment when you
Sleep upon my bosom
Curled child like
I wish in the debris
Of what was once
My heart

I could decide
If I want to stay
Or to leave.

Flutter

With the monsoon clouds
tucked behind your ear,
piling away more that await
to see themeslves in your eyes,
You sit there not knowing
if I still breathe.

And I,
the one who kisses
the ground your breath touches
still long for the day
you shall see in the corner of your eye,
what a mere flutter does to me...

Monsoon windings.

As the children squabbled over the marbles
That squeaked the now broken sunlight.
Hiding behind the twinkle in the eye,
was what I called us.

Below a banyan, with its roots breathing a sigh.
where the wind kindled the tips, till it almost sneezed.
Was us. Another whimsical us.

Cluttered by children clambering
up and down in the wet sand
Leaving behind footprints like a flock of hen,
Was us.
The silent, resilient us.

But as the rain drops fell,
Birds onto their nests swelled
Where did you run away?
Leaving behind the banyan and its wet hair,
The dancing children and the monsoon fair,
Where did you run away?

Where?

Losing it

I lost it
That which I never hoped I had
But in secrecy knew I did
I have lost it

And yes I feel empty
When the breeze tussles my hair
As they fall loose, disheveled
Like a cascade of mourning
Limbs of a obscure octopus
That now has taken over my mind
I feel occupied
By the emptiness
That haunts me.

At least then there was you
And your chai stains upon my desk
Where you left that cup every time.
At least then there was the ghost of you.

But even in this loneliness
I cannot remember
If it was you who took it away from me
Did you drag it by its hair
As it screamed and kicked like a child
Or did you simply hold its hand and guide
It through as it hesitantly waited by the doorstep
It was you wasn’t it?

And yes now am empty

And have been so,
Ever since your ghost had
Set me free.

Empty.

I remember

Sometimes I see you in a tune
In flesh and blood
Like a musical note that gave birth
To the symphony of memories that
Once remembered how it felt to be touched.
I play the song again and again in my nights
I sing myself to sleep.

Sometimes a falling leaf reminds me
Of how you fingers gently
Tumbled upon my skin
And I like a idiot
In the middle of the night
Press my skin against them
Just to see if I still feel,
To see if it was you who brought sleep.

Sometimes the howling wind
Reminds me how your tears felt
Crushing against my breast
As you softly wept.
Sometimes I feel the autumn rain
Thrash against them,
Just to see if it feels like you.

But to tell you the truth
I have no use for you
As long as I have a tune, a leaf
Some autumn rain,
I would be happy
Just with the wad of things
That reminds me of you

Left Behind

By the peeling paint I sat,
The rain water seeped through the old wall
Dripping like tears of the temple
That was left unnoticed to ruins by time
By the ruined temple where we once met
I decided to look for your mark.
The puddles have washed away your footsteps
The water too refuses to dry up
I even wanted to wait to dig up your footprint
Only to let a gravedigger steal it away from my hands
What’s a dead footprint anyway,
When I cant see them dance?
So I sat and cried another puddle to fill your empty grave.
When my footsteps left the ground
I hear yours ring a bell
From the locked church tower in the misty eyes of god
But what can a feet less cripple do
But hope that may be someday
Ill find wings in the passing wind
So that at least for a second
I could see your reflection sheen upon the ringing bell
And sigh to myself of what it was.

Fireflies

You who infest the cities at night

With your endless fiery eyes,

Burning away into the cold streets of

The city which never sleeps.

You with lithe metallic sheen

Upon your back, blurring away

With your bustling flicker into the

Eyes of this wayward drunkard.

You! How could I fathom you?

For often when I slip away

From the city’s maddening day

And let myself be enveloped by

The coldness of the night

I see your flicker waking my stagger

Swarming in like a mutiny,

With a prickly warning for everyone

Who refuses to see…

Tell me oh firefly,

When you storm across a homeless kin,

Thrown on the sidewalk to die for the night

Do you feel it ebb your soul?

Do you like us have learnt

To compare and reason why?

Answer me dear friend,

For I am just a drunkard

Drunk headlong with the moonlight

Wishing I could see the see,

And you with your flickering light

Has given me my endless nights,

Pervading and often serenading me

With the sweet resonance of light…

Alas! How ghastly has this become?

For me to realize that such a wayward drunkard

I have become, suckling upon this tinsel town

Learning to dance to the tunes of this dreary life,

That I can no longer tell,

The difference between cars and fireflies…

The difference between cars and fireflies...

Smoke

Of all the things I gave to the wind,
It was you, who left me empty.

The burn embers of a dying cigarette,
The lost ashes of what was once human,
The weary light of a candle just before it dies,
cries with me.

Often upon the winds feet you dance,
enticing me, whimsically teasing the doors of my breath,
mocking me, singing a song of warmth
and asking me if I still remember?

oh how could I tell you in my life's desperation
how much I still remember how you once felt
between my fingers,
breathing life into my being,
awaiting to be blown away...

Oh I still remember.

Your memory haunts my lips
making them quiver for another mouthful of you,
for your life to exorcise my soul
and in second make my eyes teary in ecstasy.

And such is the torment I live,
unknown to your dance, but you still
with your elusive smile taunt me such,
reminding my soul how it was to be holy!

Oh torment me not now,
for everyday is beginning to be just
a pain stained memory of how without you
we are but ashes waiting to be be.

PS-

Finding my feet - part two is still in the cauldron but I couldnt stop myself from putting up these two poems i recently wrote.

Finding my feet - Part 1

The last month crashed down and I dint realize when it did. It had tumbled down and I have to say it was a joyous tumble. A tumble the gave way for growth, understanding and self actualization.

I traveled last month. Finally found my feet as they walked where time my companion took me. From sacred grounds on earth to more sacred ones in my soul. Things are definitely not the same in my heart and I definitely have grown immensely in the last one month, regaining authority, choice and understanding of my very being.

Bihar where Laloo sits below a tree spitting paan, where the uncouth people carry guns, a foreground of crime and naxalites, this was the picture the media had painted for me. But from the minute I arrived in Patna, it was the beginning of the end of such baseless accusations. With every second growing I felt the green breeze of warmth, innocent people smiling, amused by a city girl in a villager, the children naked playing ; it was a exorcism of everything the media made me believe Bihar was.

I stepped into Patna unsure and anxious to be embraced into comfort as family by a home I now call mine.

Sitamadi- finding my foot back to home
The memory that I cant shake away of this place is the emerald green lake where the Legendary Godesss Sita was found by her father King Janaka. It was at this spot my eyes stilled with the beauty it held the green serenity of this place I now called home.

We traveled a grueling 8 hours a 4 hour from Patna to Sitamadi delay due to the floods in Bihar. From the window of my car, I witnessed natures gallery of lush green bamboo thickets that stooped to kiss the lake, children with smiles that were still so pure it could warm your eyes, the sound of their laughter as their foot kissed the earth as the ran naked, banyan trees with their tresses swaying in the wind, young mothers with childlike faces battling with love with their crying babies… it was a flickering flashes of beauty.

Men crouching on top of buses, the narrow careening market ways, the roads where cows slept, more images, just more to see.

Strange realizations come to us in unexpected times. It was in the days I spent in Sitamadi I rediscover what I called home. Amidst the green, like a child walking barefoot over wet grass. I understood this is what home means.

My travel took me yet again to the holy city of Beneras. The trade city of everything sacred, the city famous for its saris,the city where ganga speaks and the ghats lead you to she.

I found friends here.

The days I stayed in Beneras this time, made me understand how lovely it is to find and bond with people you meet unexpectedly. Vishal (the sane one) and Siddharth ( the stoned one) have become so close to me that I feel life has its ways of finding the brothers you dint bother to see. In a way, in my constant search for family, I have found brothers of my creed.

It was in this city, in the bustling riot of colours, where paanwalahspunctuated every street and every corner you could see something holy, splashed in the saffron, I fell in chaos. The beauty of madness overtook me, the serenity it gave as we sat by the ghat listening to people sing in a distant corner, watching a lamp flicker across the ganges, smelling the scent of marijuana in the paan stained streets feeling the breeze as it ticked the flower garlands on display, I realized it shall always be with me.

All of it. I shall return I mumbled to myself, when it was time to leave.

I shall return to join the music of the river and find where I can rest free.

To be continued...