Heart

Of Herpatophobia

Hadn’t all of you left my abode after the spell that winter was

Was elated in not seeing you crawling over the walls.

 

As I entered my heaven this evening, you registered yourselves

In the drawing room, in the kitchen!

 

Can’t you understand, you make life and living alien to me

I can barely breathe, barely sleep.

Find greener pastures you wretched souls!

 

Leave the human in me at peace,

Please!

Heart

To The One

In My Life

Who hasn’t shown up yet

 

When you descend

will the sun be rising at dusk

and setting at dawn?

 

When you speak

will the waterfall sound abstruse

while the wind is on?

 

When you walk

will the lion look stuck

while the jungle looks on?

 

When you listen

will the pigeon seem indifferent

while the man talks on?

 

When you dress up

will the lotus not envy

while the roses flaunt on?

 

When you leisure it out

will all of my friends not notice

while you conquer on?

 

 

Heart

In the Garden

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Wretched marigolds

peeved at the rudeness of the garden turned yellow

Silly roses

angered at the heat of women burning red

Despicable tulips

shrunk at the thought of men going lean

Pitiful daffodils

laughing unamused at clouds gone berserk!

Heart

Poets

A poem is a cover up

It conceals more than what it reveals

What is significant in a life truly lived is the thing that poetry can only pretend to represent.

Poems are an easy way out of the smoulderings of the soul

Never trust a poet.

Poets are brave and very stupidly so

They calculate aesthetic merits and leave harshness of life unfettered.

Heart

A Girl

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As a little girl Ill at ease with the tenderness of her age ran across the road I saw in her running into me a rage of perplexity. A bag she carried clung to her frail bones, eyes had sunk deeper into the underfed face and the palms faced me in the crotch. Left to wonder if she was trying to avoid being run over or running into a stranger, I reciprocated with a gesture. The older woman behind her made note of the conversation and pretended being indifferent and preoccupied with her own errands she was out for.
I met the girl again later in the evening in my moment of recollecting all that had transpired through the day. She reappeared as the same malnourished bony creature bereft of a sense of health and affluence. This time around, her hair browning in the sun, the logo on the shirt she wore and the pleats on her skirt too rose in my thought. Mindless as it was thinking of her, I found myself ruminating aloud of education, abdication and adoption. What would the city, the school and the books do to her? Leave her alone or drag her into the grind. Will she be the older woman walking at ease behind her or will she grow into a caged sparrow always in need of unneeded attention and artificial affection?
It has been a while that I crossed a road. Had crossed a railway track as a child on my way to school. That was an initiation for me into the belief that one is ultimately left to fend for oneself. I wish to preach. Preach to the little girl. Preach health, reading and a lot of freedom. It would be difficult to find her at the moment. If I do later, I might just be busy crossing another path. Roads choking with vehicles are quite easy to walk through. Sparsely sprinkled with little girls are not. Vehicles don’t come home with you. Little girls do.