Saturday, 22 August 2015

Three Verses for a Rupee Each and One for Free


My language settles more comfortably on my tongue
Like thick bhaat that breaks into pasty starch
Whose sweet is countered by kali daal's
Jolting old-world flavour    
When my language wears words like rice and lentils.    
 
Science textbooks taught me a counterpart to
Everything that reminded me of going home
So that alien words became more
Familiar-
I was asked to put various lentils
In air-tight ziplock plastic packets
And label them using their other names.

I don't know what the point of that was
Because my daal settles thick in my mouth and
Its searing heat burns my insides every time I walk down an aisle
Instead of an alley
And look for a placard titled 'Black lentils'
Instead of saying 'Kaali daal'.  

*
3 rupees.
3 rupees multiplied by 28.
84 multiplied into 7.5 million.
What do you think when you walk back home
With no change, and only change?
Do you toss it up in the air and catch it?
Do you ball it into a fist and use it to wipe sweat?
Do you simply stare at nine lion heads?  
Do you calculate how many days until you eat again?
Do you tuck it away like a secret aspiration    
In the lines of your wrinkles,
The folds of your skin,
The cracks in your feet
And the hollows of your cheeks;
In your earthern ware
And save enough to buy a rope
Or fertilizer maybe
And drink it like the kali daal
You sold for a profit of 3 rupees?

Saturday, 15 August 2015

Small Talk

When they came up with words, I wonder how they assigned meaning to them. 
Did they hold it up and feel it in their palms,
Get weighed down by the words 
And divide it up into categories 
Based on how similar they were?

*
You sat there, one leg over the other,
One arm splayed across the head of the armchair 
And I noticed that your shirt had a spot of yellow
And your stubble seemed more intentional than
An active attempt at passivity.
I didn't say anything, but 
A cigarette in between your fingers would have seemed perfect-
Typical, actually.

*
The Type of Word That Means Sad
The Type of Word That Means Happy         
The Type of Word That Means Love
The Type of Word That Means Hate
All The Words That Are Extensions and in-betweens 
 
The Words You Will Look For In Your Mouth But Which Will Make You Feel Like Your Mouth Is an Abyss And You Could Say Everything But It Would Still Not Be
The Words That Will Come Naturally To Your Mouth Because They Were Fed To You From Mouth to Mouth Because Your Mouth Is a Clock Repeating Itself Daily

*
I could imagine you dressing up for a party
And putting in effort if you didn't like the other invitees 
And laughing and making small talk
And laughing at yourself (because that's small talk as well) 
And going back home to shave that pretentious goatee
And washing your blade with an extra intensity
And twisting your tongue in your mouth like
If you could, you would slice it clean.



*
I wonder what they were thinking when they were thinking about 
Speech. 
Did they know they were the original creators- the pioneers, the real Old Masters
The Founding Fathers, the Invaders, the Everyone Who Would Make Everything Be?
Did they know that shouldered that kind of responsibility? 
Or did they throw around terms like
absolute, temporary, definitely, always, never, depression, ecstacy
Arbitarily? 
*
I can imagine 
You tying your shoelaces with extra care
And people calling you pedantic,
You walking down the road with your fists in your pockets
And people calling you nonchalant,
You knocking on the door once
And pausing deliberately.
         
And opening the door 
And staring at you blankly
Because though I've imagined it so often
It will be unexpected.
I can imagine
You tying your shoelaces with extra care 
Because you needed extra time of not looking into anyone's eyes
You walking down the road with your fists in your pockets
Because your defense-type is 'Constant Crises'    
You knocking on the door once
And pausing deliberately
Because you aren't even sure you are wanted. 

And opening the door
And saying 
'This is unexpected'
Though we both always knew that you would land at my doorstep anyway
And you responding with 
'Is this a good time?'
Though we both always knew that every other moment besides this
Was irrelevant
And making small talk with each other  
Even though we both know
You came to my door, looking for an escape
A comment on how you look like shit and how you haven't changed
Because God knows you were only going one way.

And you'll not tell me how you
Never cleaned that shirt, but stopped sitting 
Leg over Leg 
And I won't tell you that that was because you stopped being an invitation 
And started being a 'No Parking' sign instead.            
And we'll talk about Important Things-
Using words that are should mean everything to us-
Which hold no meaning really- 
And we'll exchange a handshake as the only admission
That we wanted to know each other through more than words.

And I'll say it was a pleasure you came 
And ignore the desperation in your eyes
And out of courtesy, you’ll ignore the hopelessness in mine
And respond with 
'Likewise'.


Sunday, 2 August 2015

From a Teenager's Diary

                 I have ached for you
    From bone to skin
                 I have ached for you
  With an ache that defies gravity                                                                        
                Every movement of mine
     Is halved by your absence                                                                    
                And doubled with the hope that the distance is
Breaking

                Every so often when I speak out a word
                 It lies
            Ringing in the air like it     needs  
               To be stilled in your mouth    

And every so often I
Ache for you
Heart to vein to vein
Like every new pump of life
Is flowing life into  
You    

                   And sometimes
        I swear I look into the mirror
                     And whisper  
                         'Appear'.