The clash of histories

The clash of histories
In your deliberate ignoring glances
Where another one has been
Installed with the same gestures
that was reserved for me two days ago
I remain quite, and give up
For, you say that I fear failure.
Well...if one fails, there is no need to fear it anymore
And, I do, precisely that.

yet one more evening

yet one more evening
where i go out with you
into yet another family
where the woman has shrunk herself
where she and i, both smile
like dead japanese dolls
where men drink wine
and talk politics
where she and i
sometimes take a fag
the only remenent
of our tattered independence!

A Household

" A household, in fact, with its meticulous and limitless tasks, permits to woman a sadomasochistic flight from herself..."
Simone De Beauvoir (The Second Sex)

Morning Sight

A small bird
Builds a nest
In the mango tree
Near my balcony...
I sip a glass of morning water
Seeing it carry twig by tiny twig
To weave it's minutes, days, and life.

Learning to live

Learning to live
Like a baby
slowly walking,
seeing the world
Details,
web of connections,
colours
open up before me,
slowly
So, there is a rhythm
To my days,
my nights,
my wakings,
my exhaustions,
my relievings.

Everyday Life

Whirling through a dark maze
Of misery and numb silence,
One reaches a small island
of little things, everyday smiles
small deeds like cooking a meal
walking together, sometimes parting ways
without hurtful,abrasive words
Sometimes, finding each other again
unexpectedly, in a turning.

Goodbye

Packing all my bags of frustration
i move on to my next destination
wrapping years of flooding tears
i have to now leave you, dear
tying up my never ending boxes complaints
i have to build a new nest
brushing up my old, rusted dreams
i am getting up slowly
to rediscover my old ways
where i used to smile and sometime even laugh.

A Dementor’s Kiss

Fantasy world of children’s words
Where the character which oozes death
Does not kill
But, draws out life
With one single kiss.

A Tranqulizer Named Death

Time is my eternal tranquilizer
Where, I stand still
And watch life move slowly
In absolute slowness
And has no direction
No purpose to achieve
And…
Where death almost touches me
With its long, idle fingers
And, it does not matter.

Sleepwalking through Life

Sleep,
Sleep through your youth
Of passive death
Where enemies crash down as expected
And friends hit out, surprising you
Each time with the virulence of attacks
So much so that,
You hardly distinguish between both
And,
Walk through life
Sleepwalking
Alone
Still with death…

Hard, Rocky City

This deccan city
Is hard, rocky,
She felt she could melt the hard volcanic rocks
With her effusive emotions
But, hit the bottom
With a loud thud
Of rejection.

Poisoned Morning Tea

The hot cup of brewing tea,
Mixed with daily doses
Of complaints, frustrations
And a small lacing of intense hatred,
"Just a little, yes, Thank You"
And we sip it on the terrace
In cain chairs,
With the breeze
Outside our happy home!

Decision

I have decieded,
Never to give love,
Then..
I do not complain
To myself,
Of never getting love.

Blanket of Matrimony

A tussle of egos,
Where I repell
And he clutches,
Both in disgust,
Desparation and misery.

A tight knot of resistance
Which finally loses
And releases itself - numb
While he comes
Tired and sad and alone.
Yet, emptily clutching his
Mark of masculinity,
Of meaningless conquest.

A hurried turning back
Where I face the wall
And he, empty air.
We, united by a common blanket -
marital hate.

Violent Breaking

The young black boy
Stood waiting in the dark
He watched the rich woman arrive alone
With her white, fleshy arms,
Slightly sagging breasts
And middle-aged flabby body,
He watched her jog
Her breasts moving rhythmically
As she receded
He saw a world moving away from him,
Not noticing him, not aware that he stood there
Pulsating his youth,
Dark upon dark, invisible.
He realized the distance between the two worlds
A touch could perhaps break this brutal world
It could happen... violently.

An Evening

It was an evening unlike any other...
Her man had gone out for a short spell
She assembled her forgotten women friends
They resurfaced like her vanished youth
with their loud laughters, thoughtless gestures,
Relaxed bodies, irrevarent jokes,
Her baby played with them,
Laughing with them, imitaing them,
Listening to them, sometimes mischeviously
Not listening to them...

Days of Forgetfulness

Yesterday was the day I forgot...
Yesterday was the death day ...
Of so many things.

Of pretending to be happy in settled love,
Of telling myself that what I need is secure control.
A base from which to grow
little babies and probably vegetables.

Addiction to Fiction

I devour word after female word,
Written in pages and volumes
Of life stories of my land and far
I see my youth, dreams, songs and tears
In world after world of womens' stories.
I ride these waves
In fear of loneliness
This piece-meal of mental peace
This fragile web of pain and meaning...

Depression

Life in slow motion
A Black and white picture
Of crowd scenes
You see everyone
You see no one.
The moment before you black out
From numb pain
Of incessant tirades
A procession of blurred faces
A glint of light from
Today's selling face
Peering at you from the latest hoarding
As you walk along
With your heavy baggage
Into your dark train.

Domestic Violence

Sleeping fairy tale girl,
Enchanted in evil magic,
Passive, closed lids,
Numbed with daily chores
Habitual love,
She awakens for a quick second
only with the whip of an occassional, slapping hand
And then the chant begins anew
Of protestations, endless love,
and blame.
Which lulls her back
To her dutiful sleep.