She could hear the squealing fading
as she was walking away.
The noise was a competition
to the 24-hour FM stations;
The difference being
The tone of hatred in the former
and affection in the later.
That noisy place was where she belonged
and the ones who screamed and swore,
brought her to the world .
While she was walking back home
as the sun dropped down
the voices were growing clearer
and when she retired to her room
in her thoughts was roaming
the man who she thought
had the best of looks
and the best of cars.
And the best of diamonds
was offered to her
fitted in the ring.
And yet
the acceptance couldn’t come naturally.
She saw a moving picture
on the wall
She and He
Curled up in the silken blanket
Near the tranquil fire
Him singing her the love ballads
And her cheeks picking up shades
From the family of red
Suddenly, out of the reel life
the sound of the flower vase breaking
from the adjacent room
hit her eardrums.
And then in the moving picture she saw
him lifting her up
and throwing her viciously on the ground
when she collected herself
and tried to get up
he pushed her again
this time with feet
calling her names .
The fire was not tranquil anymore
Nor were the things
She woke up the next morning
and went to see him
only to leave him brokenhearted.
Finally rejecting his proposal
just the way she did that
of the boy next door
and her best friend at college.

Late in the night
my dormant senses
felt Beethoven’s symphony.
I heard your familiar voice
as I pushed the green button
wondering why do they say
you’re not the same.
I didn’t cry
nor did I complain
for staying aloof
all these years,
for not holding on to me
for not wiping
my tears.
I talked the way I did
when we talked everyday.
Your last girlfriend
didn’t find a mention
nor did you ask about
my current relationship status.
You talked the way you did
when we talked everyday.
And this darkest of the nights
became the brightest for me.
The next thing I remember
was the creaking sound
of the bathroom door
and my landlady yelling
at the housemaid.
You were gone
and so was your number
from my call history
when I opened my eyes.

In the garden of Eden
I saw you relishing the fruit
from its first encounter
with your senses
and you say
I was the stimulus?
You charged me for that
through books
through epics
through minstrels
and have been cursing me
since ages.
My captivating beauty
mesmerised you
till labour was alien.
My acts of breaking through
your prison walls
were sinful, said your Prophets.
My second sin makes me a castaway.
If not, I am whipped
and dragged by hair
back into the confinement.
I thank the enticer, however
for the fruit has made me mortal
and has thus afforded
the only possibilty
of liberation.

When those ever twinkling eyes
become a brimming bag of salt water,
you feel your heart getting heavier
filled with something
that hasnt yet been christened.
When a pearl falls,
white curtains are drawn
restricting all your sensibilities.
A wave drives you to her
and that is all you know.

You grew up with her
pulling her hair,
spoling her drawings,
misplacing her specs;
annoying her to the extent of crying
not just once.
And now,
watching that stream of sea water
finding its way
through her round cheeks
is unbearable.
Childhood is nowhere
but in the golden frame of memories.
A grown up girl she is called now
courted by many
with roses and songs
and her tears say
even dejected by a few:
things that you refrain from discussing
and even denying
any knowledge of.

You know your stupid jokes
might bring a grin
but the dampness of the face
and the heart
will remain.

Being the elder one, you think
sensibility of a higher degree
comes naturally.
Neither will you ever realize
nor will she declare
that despite all the adversities
the greatest gift
the Almighty showered upon her,
she thinks,
is sending her as the little sister
to a brother like you
who grows restless
when her smile ceases to show up.
She runs and falls
but runs again
because the first aid box
for her scratched knees
will always be there
with you, she knows.

The sun rays travelled
from the window to her face
but nothing moved her closed eyes
or her body
not even his shudderings.
She wasnt answerable to him now
because her citizenship was granted
by the world of senselessness
Her loss, was less; his fame, was more
a matter of concern.
Auden's 'Unknown Citizen' was he.
Not a begetter of stories
till yesterday.
From today
the neighbours, the kinsmen and others
will be the news channels
contesting to be the first one
to report
and investigate the mystery underneath.
The flowchart functioning in his brain
was this.

Husain died in exile
and so did she
Though at her home, away from his heart.
The 'Happily Married' tag
expired within months of its issue
yet they carried it along
well aware of its inautheticity,
as a substitution
would have invited tales
and decreased the status quotient.
Watching from somewhere, up there
she was reflecting
on everything she had left behind
and thinking
only if, to him
the world that bothers
was not beyond her now closed eyes,
the 'Happily Married' tag
would have passed all the quality checks
and they would also have
'lived happily ever after'.

No, we are not together
and nor will ever be.
Yes, we have parted ways
and embraced the left bits of life.
But somehow I know
sitting drunk with a college mate
in a lonely bar
you mentioned my name
and swinged back
in antiquity.
Addressing a female colleague at work
my name reached your mouth
but you swallowed it back
realizing the sin
you were about to commit.
Holding your spouse's hand
at the windy beach
her face looked like mine to you
in the uncooked light
of the twilight
but the adjacent second
brought with it the truth.
A cut-paste option
is not life.
Its a cloth dipped in ink
leaving impressions
all over the silk route.
'Lovers' is not the word for us
but 'strangers' we can never be...

Arrogance is her mate,
they say
Snobbishness, her sister.
Her mood swings are lunatic
and her witch- like arsenal brain
leaves none uninjured
they say.
A kin of Satan she is;
Her face, the primary seducer
Her voice, the other one
Her smile, yet another
they say.
Her trap isn’t an artefact,
she knits it with her look
and extracting energies
is her artifice
they say.
They say what they hear
But say not
what they see:
Those impotent eyes
abandoned by innocence
devoid of love
and now, even tears.
Her blink had clicked his snap
that was to be with her
till the final sealing.
The image is stolen now
Cataract seems to have hit her.
Longing tried to make it
its residence once
but they say
such guests are ephemeral
and before they go
they kill the optimism bug.
All that her eyes are known for now
are layers of kajal
and coloured contact lenses
that conceal the cataract
and infertility.

Like the candle flame
their love
finds its meaning
only in the dark.
In the daylight
they are like strangers.
An acknowledgemnet of acquaintance
is a mere formality
that they exercise
with several others.
He has a family
on this shoulders
and she has a society
to answer
Yet
the best place to dwell, they know
is in each other's arms.

He bought her diamonds the other day
and a dress a week ago
But they do not seem to
enchant her anymore.
Why she keeps on asking
the same question
"Do you really love me?"
He has affirmed the statement
a thousand times.
Why would he sprinkle the reward
of his hard earned labour
on someone he doesnt?
Of course he does.
More than any woman on the planet.
Atleast this is what he says.

Stupid woman,
Stupid desires.
Diamonds do not content her
Now she wants everything
His house
His family
Even his name.
Her wadrobe has a section for
a box of vermillion
but its empty
and she knows
that it will always be.
Because she is the 'other woman'
in his life
And no matter how much he proclaims
inside those four walls
his love for her,
the 'other woman'
she will always be.

Can you destain that
snow white garment
over which
you spilled the red wine
while making merry
during that Christmas eve?
The snow has rusted
robbed of
its soothing behaviour
and all its piousness.
You thought
that five letter word
would renounce you
from all your sins .
That magical word 'sorry'
would wipe off all the weeds
from your path
of karma.
Can you reassemble those pieces
that were one
before you loosened your fingers
to let it hit the ground?
Can you join them together
unlike the jigsaw puzzles
so that it never would recall
that it was once broken.
"Sorry" is the only word
left in your dictionary.
I want to know
what do you mean
when you say
"I did not mean that".
Tear yourself into pieces
and stain each one
with red.
Feel the pain of breaking
and let the world ridicule you
for your blotted self
Will then you tongue and voice
ever consent
to reduplicate the sentence
"I did not mean that"?
If they do
and only if they do
will this five letter word
fulfill the task
appointed to it.

The door opened
and my eyes
could hardly capture your face
because my body
was wrapped
in the blanket
of your skin.
The warmest welcome
I ever got
had you
as the key player.
What authority have the people then
to declare
that you were cold
during my next visit?
I know you were not.
Sleeping though,
could yet sense
my presence.
I know you were there.
Immovable though,
could yet read
my thoughts.
Even while concealing
your presence
from the world,
you come to see me
when the world
lies asleep.
Can't forget that night
when we held each other
and cried
for hours
without letting a word
travel in the air.
I know you will come
someday again
when the world will
re-vision your charm.

The 'Breaking News'
is all we know.
Cannot comprehend
the water drop
that was born
under the lamp post
when it had no company
but the dogs
and liquor.
The water drop
that was born
near the window seat
behind those expensive shades
which always saw
the dusk.
The water drop
that was born
on the pillow
that had pills underneath
and absorbed
all it can.
The years of survival
are ascending
yet
the years of life
are descending.
The tic toc needles
pierce deep
when we turn our heads
to the sides.
The 'Breaking News'
is all we know.
Nothing less.
Nothing beyond.

The canvas was blank
before it saw you.
It saw you
and your pencil
that carved me.
I remember
how dense were my locks
how deep were my eyes
how delicate were my hands.
I remember
you completed me
with a dot
on my forehead
and I remember
I was
more handsome than ever.
You called me
your treasured possession.
With you beside me
I was adored
with the lovliest of diction.
Now I wonder why
your treasured possession
is left all to itself
since
you have started
your strange voyage.
Your strange voyage
that began
without a promise
of return.
And since,
they have doodled
and scribbled
and sketched
over
your treasured possession.
The eyes are now shallow
and the hands
coarse and hairy
and the locks
thin and flimsy.
I never knew
the marvel in me
was you beside me.
And your absence
has reduced me to nothing
but a plaything
for the world.

My scribblings on the paper,
what sense do they make?
Perhaps
the lady talking in the room
near the board
is making more sense.
I am expected to listen
and retain
and respond
and not scribble
as my scribblings on the paper
what sense do they make?
Perhaps
I am the only one
in some other world
or do I have a company?
Someone
who has missed the train
or caught another one
to explore
some other world.

An ordinary ring it was,
yet shiny.
The moment l saw,
l fell for it.
It wasnt a ring bought from the jeweller
My parents didnt bring it
nor did my friends
nor relatives
nor cousins,
l just found it
accidentally.
And since then
it was always with me.
The ones made up of diamonds
and gold
could not tempt me
because it was
indispensible.
But that day
it danced up and down
on my finger,
impatient
to be set free.
The succeeding night
it quietly slipped
during my dormancy
probably into some other
befitting hand.
With the break of dawn
I ransacked the place
but in vain.
My fingers were bare
and so was my heart.
Some brought me another one
The one made up of diamonds
and gold.
Its embrace was elegant
that made me look radiant.
But then
a week later,
l found the old one
in the porch
Less shiny than the one holding me
yet seemed
indispensible.
I strived to pull out the new one
but it was
immovable.
It took me hours
to finally succeed
But even my bare fingers
were red
and affected
restricting accessorisation.
So my ring was taken away.
And if believed the hearsay
it was washed and polished
making it
shiny again
The moment she saw it
she fell for it
and since then
its always with her.

The aroma did not fill the room
as I opened the box.
It was cold
and odourless
yet
melted in the mouth.
In the hundredth part of a second
I could see her
grating the carrots
for hours
thickening the milk
for hours
compounding them
for hours
To make it reach me
the way it
melted in the mouth.
And my heart
melted in the eyes.

The two of them
had one face
one voice
one skin
Yet they were two.
I loved one of them
but the other said
he loved me.
And said
that both were one.
And I thought
I loved both
conjecturing
that both were one.
He tricked
He tore
then left.
I cried with the rains
I moaned with the winds
before I felt
the warmth.
The two of them
had one face
one voice
one skin
Yet they were two.
The one I loved
was still with me
holding my hand.

The gold in your ears
were the gold on your cheeks
That diamond nosepin
did split itself
to fit into your eyes
Your expensive scarlet robe
was less brilliant
than the colour of your face.
They all stood in admiration
And he
was overwhelmed
to have found you.
That was an year ago.
Today
The gold stays in the locker
And the diamond
has turned black
and watery.
The scarlet has left the face
and slipped down
leaving artistic imprints
all over.
Its intresting
how it changes into blue,green and pink
and sometimes black
Admiration has changed its rhetoric
But he
is still overwhelmed
to have found you.