Untailor

Stitched of a false mask,

buttoned with colourful threads-

I'm needled to last.

Hold me not liable if I don't live up to the label.

An honourable suit weighs much.

Tough to iron out wrinkled ends.

Leave me untaiolred,untouched.

Rolling Marbles

On a quiet street corner, boys roll marbles.

Nor heat nor dust can pause those sweet thuds

which resonate off the wall

till the shadows stretch long.

Cleaving

Err not these inks ere they vaporize.

My quill has raised the spirits that once were razed.

I write to be wise but you think me otherwise.

Eyes aged with rum, burn every page-

wonder what's stronger when this heart of mine bleeds.

Love that pours from your jar, seldom ajar

or tears that needle when you leave me in needs.

A Question

With a heavy load he trots to school.

Bulging knowledge but shoulders droop.

Here it ends, here it begins-

yet another day of battle with books.

How this chore that once brought amuse

when thrill aroused just by peruse-

has now become a substance to gauge,

and joy remains only in muse.

Devil exam creeps in the slumber,

keeps eyes open to chase some numbers.

A cruel race without a finish line.

One not learns but just remembers.

Little spider is caught in it's own web-

needs an hour-glass that is sand-less.

Fox (Tanka)

A pair of green eyes

hounds its prey deep in jungle

shadows every move

till the hunt appears close

camouflages the intent.

Ebb And Flow

I ask the sea to reveal her secrets,

but hear not the music when she sings.

I see the ripple that every wave creates,

and sight not the offer that each tide brings.

Tasteless is life in absence of mystery,

and lonely is a pebble without a shore.

Why be empty of love and humour?

sea remains unchanged as waters ebb and flow.

The Falcon

High atop a snowy mountain,

air filled with hunter's silence,

alert to it's foxy prey-

the royal falcon waits.

A serpent wriggles unaware

of the danger that circles above-

senses the shadow a wee bit late,

becomes the food in jungle's bowl.

The falcon dives at a matchless speed,

talons drawn for fiery need.

Pounces on the slippery snake-

how so venomous, now so pale.

Beware of the flight of the falcon-

swift, fierce and eager to kill.

One Guy Less

How we strive him to mould

to fit him into our maze.

Envious of his conduct,

and the guilt-free face.

He won't mourn for miseries we create

nor awe at our breathless pace.

In the crowd he's just one guy less,

but he eyes us as already dead.

Nice

Cranes squeak with laughter early morning in Nice-

hover around my balcony that overlooks the beach.

Shop-keepers clank open the shutters,

and coffee lingers longer in the air.

Come alive those small streets and lanes

as sunlight announces a long bright day.

Beige rocks on white pebbles shore-

along run long stretches of broad promenade.

Few miles down is Monte Carlo.

Sleek yachts sway to rocking parties.

Life here shifts to top gear,

and spurs you on with a new set of feet.

I bow, my sensors tuned for optimum reach

lest, I miss this subtle charm of Nice.

Switzerland

Red Swiss train spirals the country-side.

Looking out of the big window I see nature passing by.

Milk and wool graze on vast open fields.

Snow braces clouds over the deep green valleys.

Wooden cottages with their smoking chimneys.

Bed of lilies form a ring around them.

A river runs along the fields, rails, bridges.

Long stretched piers to sit and fish.

I feel I'm living in a post card-

painted and framed on God's canvas.

The locomotive hisses past the alpine trees,

through dark tunnels at a gentle speed.

In the big glass I reflect of amaze and wonder.

To this land of Swiss I surrender.

Fall (Haiku)

Red earth calls to wind

and a withered tree sparkles

shawls crisp sepia

The Quake - 10/03/11 (Tanka)

Earth rumbled deep down

the sea unleashed fury

homes and souls submerge

but wail not my rising sun

this dark night soon we shall pass

Return (Senryu)

Rum not deep enough
a dry sigh wandered around
then I found myself

The Number Game

It's that time of the year when TVs are switched off, malls and restaurant are neglected, temples become crowded, and the atmosphere turns grim. It's exam-time. Parents exchange notes with teachers and other parents to check if their son/daughter is well-prepared. Nerves go a notch higher. The student, actually is pretty cool until he/she is dragged onto this panic train. And suddenly this cool dude feels the pressure which otherwise would have handled it quite well in his/her own style. The number game begins. Every other person becomes your competitor, ready to pounce on that vacant, precious seat with an extra mark. Because of this funny system, rather than nourishing and nurturing the knowledge the education is dumped on your brain. You are not what you would love to be but become what others prefer you to be. With time, cirumstances change, but the game continues.

Stranger-Eyes

Here I stand

on these tiny feet at the bus-stop.

My first time aboard,

a ride with unknown.

Faces unfamiliar, but look similar.

Stranger-eyes stare

in the haze that surrounds.

Here I stand

on these big feet at the bus-stop.

I'm just someone

who tussles with the clock,

caught up like everyone

in the everlasting maze.

Still unaware what lies ahead.

Languor (Song)

My porch is wet.

It's just a drizzle.

Far away ice mountains

and my malt on the rocks-

sizzle-

quietly in my head,

they sound distant.

I close my eyes,

and feel oozy.

Life is getting slower. 

It's languor.

I am just a bit high,

but warm in the chill

as the sun dips behind.

Whiskey clinks on ice,

I smile and say, 

'hey,

I am with you

tonight.'

It's languor.

A Flip

What door to knock on?

My thirst wanders and sighs.

Which fire more fierce?

of the tavern or

within you that resides.

Know not if one drowns

the pain of the other

or would the memory

ache and linger.

The ride unknown and lonely-

my lesser fate awaits

a flip of the coin to decide.

Ephemeral Woman

The armour of love cracks.

Maudlin tears

in abundance

fill the gaps.

She touched

in a way unknown.

Left me to rust-

my ephemeral woman.

A Lonely Drive

Dark rainy night-

a car cruises on a deserted road.

Wipers try to swish away the blur.

Stereo plays rock n roll.

Deep valleys await on narrow turns.

Car slows, a crack from above

lights up a white clad figure.

Long black hair falling over the face

sits cross-legged in the middle of the road, unmoved.

The car races ahead screeching right through.

The figure rotates it's head and stares-

blood flows from the long teeth,

it's laughter chilling the air.

Rear-view mirror reflects the pale green eyes-

look frightened seeing no one inside.

Screams but music blares on.

Happy Birthday To Me

A streak of grey sets me apart-

adds a year, lessens the prime.

But I age not at heart

for a mischievous bubble resides.

Are You Drinking Tonight? (Song)

I wake up in the afternoon disoriented.

Takes few minutes to know where I am. 

Red eyes tell me that I'm still alive.

One more night of my lonely life.

I pick up the phone and ask,

‘hello there, how are you?

Are you drinking tonight?’

I can't hear but can see you smile.

I take a shower, the water piping hot.

Feel it in my veins last night's pain.

Harder I push, stronger it returns.

Gotta do this one last time, all over again.

I oil my hair, wear the same clothes.

Say goodbye to no one. Pick up the car keys.

I will come back, I promise myself- 

one hand on my heart, the other holding whiskey.

Are you drinking tonight?

Will you drink with me tonight?

Bygone

My last days drift in solitude.

Every hour, every night reminds me of you.

The places where we used to sit

linger in my mind.

What wouldn't I do for one more visit,

and to go back in time.

Just to give you a beautiful rose

you loved so much,

and whisper in your soft ears

that, though I was never alone-

I have been lonely

all these years.

7:47 Andheri Local

First time I commuted by train to go to work, was in 1989. The train I boarded, started from Andheri station at 7:47 A.M.(so it was called 7:47 Andheri local). On my first day, I was flooded with 'stranger-stares' by the regular office-goers. I found my newspaper and the ceiling fans in the train, more comforting. These daily travelers sensed my uneasiness. And after a week of commuting by the same train, I was adopted by this tribe. Soon I found myself cracking silly jokes, discussing sports, listening to business and politics, sharing movie gossips and occasionally; singing. The train journey took about 45 minutes. Some guys read, some dozed. Some just blabbered like us. We addressed each other with our 'train pet names'. Almost all of us were from different professions. Sometimes our intense talks led to heated arguments and then to quarrels. But, like in all husband-wife fights; nobody bothered solving them.

We were like a big family. Twice in year we all went out for dinner at some restaurant. Basically to get drunk and let ourselves loose.

Years zipped by. Commuters changed, fashions changed, our talks changed. But life in the train remained the same.

Never did I imagine that I would be travelling by the same train for the next twenty years or so.

A Walk By The Graveyard

There lies the school teacher, strict, severe-

now so serene, so quiet in here.

Alongside the school gardener-

partners in crime. Now -forever.

And that gangster who broke the limbs

beside the doctor who mended them.

Here lies the policeman with his eluding nemesis

who has finally caught up with him.

And the actor, larger than life,

performing the last act, rehearsing his line-

next to the beggar who stole or begged for hunger,

and roamed the streets for shelter-

has found one - a closed one.

And an empty grave where I would finally lay,

but till such time I will live and play.