तीन महीने पहले
खिड़की के नजारें अलग थे

एक समय चिड़ियों को देख
मैं तुम्हे खयाली कहानियाँ सुनाया करती थी

चिड़ियों के साथ मिजाज़ का आना जाना अब भी है
पर अब,
तुम्हारा पता बदल गया है ।

Telescopic Impasse

Walk soft with slower rides.
They’re the treads.
Of my messy insides.

The fucking winds.

Such unrelenting harshness
On my pretty face.
But these eyes
Won’t drop their gaze.
They search his lines and rings.
His face.
Frozen on clean sheets.
Memories of unsaid things.

Rain used to be fun.
Now annoying?
I am unsure.

The caustic slow burning would endure.

For I am the favorite friend.
He’s true.
Clay for playtime madness?
Take my heart.
Till your fondness
Allows for all that.

But I’m his and promised, how!
No other shall taste the feel
Of his lovely warmth now.

I stand and observe.
Absorbed intimacy and affections.
The ancient horrid game
Of mirrors, tricky reflections.

This mind’s rationale
Heart’s twisted bent.
Two languages –
Same damn content.

The incomprehensible affair
Of wrong translations
Dry humor to our tragic despair.

Is this enough
What’s that?
Good and nice.
Let’s put stamp on it
But which one?
Uncertainty is the bitch, hon.

His pain would bleed my heart out
Transfusions – no match they say.
I hate bad investments.
People are the worst kind anyway.

I like the rain.
I could try keep falling.
Till pneumonia catches me first.

Relevance of sympathies are subjected
To efficacy at receptor’s risk.
Dead eyes, broken ears won’t do shit.
The pain is yours.
Transfers can’t be fixed.
Got the tech for that?

No. It doesn’t fucking exist.

Our Musings on Us


You know it well, when I sigh.
And drop hints of my attention.
The disguised doubts of the why.

Maybe you prefer me as the hot one.
Sliding up your skin.
So we can believe it’s for the long run.

But how you block the noise
Inside my head, those looks.
Your slight shivers at the surface of my voice.

I would lie beside
While you search your screen.
My curves getting cold in imposed ignorance.

But I wonder sometimes, could I burn.
My intestines – if that’s what it took?
Desperate purge, of this sordid hunger.
I would give up the chase.
And let the smoke waft away at my face
My dark pungent stench, for you.
To dream sometimes, maybe remember too.

Holes and Analogies

Holes and Analogies

Would you like me as a sea?

Terrific on the outside
But deadly inside deep.
So when you come in, seeking treasures
Death would find you first.
Sweet poison, seeping out of me.

Or should I be like a tree instead?

Bearing lovely fruits of your desire.
So when you climb up ahead
Unburdening me of my juices
I would be the overdose, the high
The lucid whispers in your head.

Perhaps a film, of your taste.

Of sunken minds and heartbreaking lines.
Would your eyes be raised
to the screen of my skin then?
Carrying projections of your dreams
Disappearing words in sickening haste.

I need to tie my ends, flying loose.

Floating men with hearts hanging out.
Empty chests, lost lovers, placid hues.
Half eaten. Rotten. Of stories
Promises, lies and pending dues.

But you’re not the end of things.
And I am not a tree.
I’d drift off with my drooping limbs
As you pass out in your Bombay lanes
With younger women and heavier drinks.

So, I have read and written of you some
Of seas and films and empty drums.
Some nights were spared and left to bleed
Some stars too, and moons and few splendid suns.

For all the love and harm undone
I ask, to be my book, this once.
For you’re the book I’d like to read
In bed tonight,
And for the rest of my lonely nights to come.

Because I Love Carousels.


You told me your secrets, would you like to know mine?
It’s always so fast, few words and fewer lines.

Let’s be friends, don’t you like the carousel?
Whirlwind craziness and you love it, I can tell.

But oh we could fall, with bodies so young.
One slip and have the wind knocked right out of my lungs.

What happened my love? This wasn’t your design.
Did you lose your balance from that blinding shine?

Spit out the blood. Pause. Brush off. Realign.
Broke some legs, that back and my mind.

Recollect, re think, and yes re-design
Them scars, do they bleed?

But oh very soon, you’ll be just fine.



The words cut through me

Like compass needles in my thigh.
Like the time you pushed me in the pool,
And water replaced all air in my nose
When my throat and eyes burnt for hours

And you called it a fun game.

Your voice makes me wince
Each time you say a polite phrase
It seems like the worst taunt

When you hit my face
Broke my spirit
And called it love.

Your absence makes me wonder
If my heart can forget
Your relentless love and care
Your belief and pride and your

Faithlessness in myself.

It’s my turn to let go.
To save my soul
From you
Your Love

And myself.