so long..

I said goodbye at a railway station.
We waited holding hands
and used words equally cliched.
I never liked platforms -
the smell lingers on.
Of urinals, food gone bad and
the stale breath of the homeless
fast asleep on dirty ground.
But apart from the smell and sounds
that I don’t like and could -
like any intelligent person
(my mother repeatedly tells me) -
choose to ignore,
what I could not bear was
scenes from my life being on display
to the platform across the tracks.
I wish there was a way to go away
without saying farewell.

my poem (also)

Would you read my poem?
Do you think you could ?
Its a really nice poem,
I think you really should.

Would you read my poem?
It's rambling and nice,
It talks of all things good,
Of sugar, and of spice.

Would you read my poem?
It's a really pretty poem,
I think no other poem,
is as pretty as this poem*.

*because poem rhymes with poem.

a different view

today i bought a new pair of glasses
expensive rimless anti-glare
i tried them on and the world seemed different
my head felt further away from the ground

i think i've discovered a secret that i could
patent in the name of medical science:
buy a new pair of spectacles
and become 2 inches taller

no smoking

yesterday marked the end of an era
the second october smoking ban
finally kicks in today

so yesterday to mark the end
we decided to make the most of it
and smoked everywhere we could

at the restaurant around the corner
on the terrace, in the hallway
in the rickshaw on the way to work

there's no way it'll work
we said to each other
as we passed around the carton

but when the ban kicked in this morning
my throat was very sore
and i didn't feel like lighting up

problems

sometimes i think that leaving everything behind and starting anew will solve my problems

sometimes i think that starting anew will mean a new lot of problems

sometimes i think that a new lot of problems may be better than old problems

sometimes i think that old problems aren't bad enough to make me leave everything behind

but i wont.

you know if i were to
write a blog linking all blogs,
i'd have written a conclusion, to a book
already written !!!

but i wont..

you know if i were to bite three dogs,
i'd be twice shy once bitten !!!

but i wont...

you know i were to if this pome,
with this iffing this and this iffing that
i'd have written a effing iff.

but i wont.

if only i would, though.


-n

i learned today

smoking while driving
first thing in the morning
without having previously
communed with nature
is not a good idea

the return of the ants

The ants were always there. They hadn't gone anywhere, so technically they couldn't return. All that had happened was that they had faded, become part of the background. If she closed her eyes when everything around was quiet, she could still hear them.
So, the day the ants didn't return, they did so with a bang. Well, not a bang, a buzz, a big buzz.

a loss to the nation

One fine evening a child was born and it was precocious. When it was three, it invented calculus. When it was four, it figured out c++. When it was six, the communal and democratic forces in its brain collided and the government collapsed.

-N

living with ants

Sometimes the ants slept, but most of the time they were awake. They moved around and explored her head; jumped when she stepped outside - the noises of car horns turned them on; battled against thoughts and won. She lit a cigarette and told everyone who was willing to listen, "I'm going to try and smoke them out."

the problem with ants

One day her head started to buzz. There were ants running inside her brain. "Help!" she said, "I’m going mad." No one believed her. She decided to not do anything. Ants march away. Brain buzz isn’t fatal. She went to work and did just fine. The ants lived on.

writing blocked

then i remembered
the idea that seemed so fantastic
and decided to write it down
before it disappeared again

there was paper on my desk
and a pen somewhere else
i sat down to write
but couldn't

pens and paper
can't do my bidding anymore
i've been spoiled rotten
by the backspace

in retrospect

last night i couldn't sleep
i tossed and turned
turned on the light
and thought

a fantastic idea
came to me
i wish i had
written it down

load shedding

it rained
we sighed with relief
now there will be light
we said
now things will cost less
we celebrated
and it was good

the next day the sun shone
there was light
but no power
we sighed with dismay
and went back to work

metre down

I hailed a rickshaw
FC road? I asked
"no" replied the driver
and wobbled off
narrowly missing a large pothole

I hailed a rickshaw
Koregaon Park? I asked
the driver shook his head
and wobbled off
escaping a traffic light
by turning left

I hailed a rickshwaw
Mahatre Pull? I asked
the driver didn't say anythign
and wobbled off
almost killing a cyclist
while he overtook a car

I hailed a rickshaw
Where do you want to go? I asked

commute

driving places takes longer
splashing through puddles
dodging newer potholes
with more cars to race against
wipers trace a pattern on the windscreen

petrol costs more, dhania costs less
"maidam, monsoon charge,"
the rickshaw driver said
as he pocketed the change
taxes affect everyone

stopping at a traffic light
there’s time to hold hands
and listen to rumours of floods across the ghats
suddenly there’s so much time at a red light
the beggars have disappeared