(published in Microw Summer 2011)
(1)
My wings are clipped
And you set me free.
This winter I am hibernating.
When summer comes,
Well, let me see.
(2)
When I sent you all those SMSes
And you did not reply,
I did not mind.
They were actually sent to myself.
(3)
For a living I work.
As if to live
You just need to eat
And sleep
And go to work in the morning.
(4)
When I spoke
They barked all
As if the sky fell flat on them.
Now I am silent
And not a blade of grass notice.
(5)
I don’t know how much I love you.
Probably like the water, the fish, or the sky
That weeps
At your departure
To an unknown land
Across two rivers that stand at the end of the world
Waiting your return.
(6)
You choose to fall in love with
A butterfly
And blame it for your fall.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
To Sheherzad
(published in Microw Summer 2011)
You make me wait thousand and one nights
You cajole me into your tales all of them lies I know
Just that they are beautiful and put me to sleep at the end of each
I agree to listen to them
Though I feel this strong urge to love you
Till I die.
You make me wait thousand and one nights
You cajole me into your tales all of them lies I know
Just that they are beautiful and put me to sleep at the end of each
I agree to listen to them
Though I feel this strong urge to love you
Till I die.
Give me a break!
(pulished in Microw Summer 2011)
Early morning I went out of my one bed room flat and bought a bagful of peas.
While shelling them one by one
(these soft green beads) started telling me tales of my grandma’s days.
Such as once upon a time there were two sisters Tula and Teja,
One beautiful one ugly.
I asked the peas to stop at that.
What is the point in repeating the same oldwives’ tales, a step mother, two daughters, they get married, one to a prince other to a pauper.
Give me a break.
Tell me something new like there was this girl, early morning she would get up, do her studies till the clock struck nine and hurry to school, coming back she’ll study again till one day she grew up and no, she was not married off.
Instead it was the turn of her dreams to take off.
This tiny little girl in a petite frame goes to a college in a metropolitan city.
Behind her thick rimmed specs she again weaves dreams, for the thousand and odd girls she teaches, moulds, transforms, prepares for a tough survival each day.
Give me a break.
Tula and Teja are characters from a folk- tale collected by noted Assamese littérateur Lakshminath Bezbarua titled as Grandma’s tales..
Early morning I went out of my one bed room flat and bought a bagful of peas.
While shelling them one by one
(these soft green beads) started telling me tales of my grandma’s days.
Such as once upon a time there were two sisters Tula and Teja,
One beautiful one ugly.
I asked the peas to stop at that.
What is the point in repeating the same oldwives’ tales, a step mother, two daughters, they get married, one to a prince other to a pauper.
Give me a break.
Tell me something new like there was this girl, early morning she would get up, do her studies till the clock struck nine and hurry to school, coming back she’ll study again till one day she grew up and no, she was not married off.
Instead it was the turn of her dreams to take off.
This tiny little girl in a petite frame goes to a college in a metropolitan city.
Behind her thick rimmed specs she again weaves dreams, for the thousand and odd girls she teaches, moulds, transforms, prepares for a tough survival each day.
Give me a break.
Tula and Teja are characters from a folk- tale collected by noted Assamese littérateur Lakshminath Bezbarua titled as Grandma’s tales..
Monday, June 13, 2011
A tribute to Bob Dylan
(published in Five Issues: A journal of performance texts)
How many men must a woman bed
Before you call her a whore?
How many times must a woman refuse
Before she is asked no more?
How many times must a swan sweep down
Before you call it a rape?
How many Manoramas must be raped
Before they cease to be called encounter deaths?
How many times must you strip her in the streets
Before she takes to the street?
The answer, my friend, is perhaps blowing in the wind.
Note:
line 7: Manorama is the Manipuri lady raped and shot dead by Indian Army
line 9: Refers to the clash between the tea-garden labourer community and the local Assamese in the city of Guwahati
How many men must a woman bed
Before you call her a whore?
How many times must a woman refuse
Before she is asked no more?
How many times must a swan sweep down
Before you call it a rape?
How many Manoramas must be raped
Before they cease to be called encounter deaths?
How many times must you strip her in the streets
Before she takes to the street?
The answer, my friend, is perhaps blowing in the wind.
Note:
line 7: Manorama is the Manipuri lady raped and shot dead by Indian Army
line 9: Refers to the clash between the tea-garden labourer community and the local Assamese in the city of Guwahati
Me, Myself, Lost, Anchored, Lost
(published in Danse Macabre)
A butterfly.
Flutering.
Falling on my feet on the sidewalk of Godavari apartment.
My maroon and green flower patterned dupatta .
Synchronizing with the wind.
The chatter of people buying fruits, vegetables and cosmetics.
A mother lost in her child , a girl.
Her purple striped sandals.
Kohl eyes. Lost.
Sewaly flowers on the ground.
Carrying memories of the night.
Disheveled. Dismantled.
Me, myself, disoriented.
Again oriented. Lost.
Anchored.
Lost in my own self.
Notes:
line 3: Godavari is the name of a river in India, here an apartment in Delhi named after the river
line 4: Dupatta is part of an Indian dress worn by women
line 10: Sewali is a small white flower that blooms at night and falls off at dawn
A butterfly.
Flutering.
Falling on my feet on the sidewalk of Godavari apartment.
My maroon and green flower patterned dupatta .
Synchronizing with the wind.
The chatter of people buying fruits, vegetables and cosmetics.
A mother lost in her child , a girl.
Her purple striped sandals.
Kohl eyes. Lost.
Sewaly flowers on the ground.
Carrying memories of the night.
Disheveled. Dismantled.
Me, myself, disoriented.
Again oriented. Lost.
Anchored.
Lost in my own self.
Notes:
line 3: Godavari is the name of a river in India, here an apartment in Delhi named after the river
line 4: Dupatta is part of an Indian dress worn by women
line 10: Sewali is a small white flower that blooms at night and falls off at dawn
An Assamese Lulluby
(published in Danse Macabre)
O Sister Moon, give me a needle!
What will you do with the needle, my dear?
I'll stitch a bag.
What will you do with the bag?
I'll carry money in it.
What will you do with the money?
I'll buy an elephant?
Elephant? What will you do with it, dear?
I'll roam around riding on its back.
What happens when you roam around?
You become a good girl.
Riding an elephant Paniram returns,
All passers by look at him.
A lulluby in Assamese re-discovered when i was looking at the moon the other day.
Paniram is a lower rank official under the King.
O Sister Moon, give me a needle!
What will you do with the needle, my dear?
I'll stitch a bag.
What will you do with the bag?
I'll carry money in it.
What will you do with the money?
I'll buy an elephant?
Elephant? What will you do with it, dear?
I'll roam around riding on its back.
What happens when you roam around?
You become a good girl.
Riding an elephant Paniram returns,
All passers by look at him.
A lulluby in Assamese re-discovered when i was looking at the moon the other day.
Paniram is a lower rank official under the King.
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