Thursday, February 10, 2011

At the Movies

Each night, the movies play out
The insane panorama
Of a mad editor
Silent but with stereophonic sound

The movies choose themselves.
With the years
There are more reels

I watch, rivetted
Forgetting that I am asleep
Forgetting that this is my life

Friday, January 14, 2011




Of waiting-to-be-told




Mutter silently, rolling this way and that

Wracked by the desire to be born

But nobody can hear them

Only the rain

Mother rain

Guardian of secrets



Because she knows that nothing is born before its time

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Neighbours – A Serialised Story

(This story wormed its way into my head – I’m not writing it, I’m just going where it takes me.)
She was part hermit crab, part clown. It was a mutually exclusive existence, neighbours who saw each other everyday but barely exchanged a terse nod, occasionally a tight, unforgiving smile.
Which was sad, because even though it didn’t appear that way, the crab liked a good laugh every now and then, (it was a sudden soft, short ‘yirp’, a bit like a puppy farting) and would have enjoyed the clown’s sense of humour. And the clown would have liked to lie in the soft, dappled shadows in the swirls of the crab’s conch shell where it was always filled with that sad half-light just before night. And where, even though they were thousands of miles away from it, the sea constantly and softly snored in the background, like a tired, happy old man done with his day’s work….

Friday, January 7, 2011



Black. It was daylight, but it was black.

Like the inside of his heart

Like her hair that whipped her cheek in wet, vicious spikes. Like the single, lonely rivulet of mascara that had sadly overflowed from the red-rimmed banks of her eyes

Red. Like the pain that throbbed somewhere in his head

Red. Then yellow. Then  red. Then yellow. Cruel, insistent, unrelenting.

Like the eyes of the cat that sat on the garden wall – two malevolent, unblinking suns that blazed through the magenta-purple clouds of the bougainvillea.

Through the tar- black that slowly melted. Then dripped.

Into the clotted red. That thinned. Then ran.

Into yellow. That smelted gold. Then smouldering, searing, muttering fell

Into magenta, then purple

Till pain smudged grief leaked into despair smeared in anger streaked with disgust


Saturday, January 1, 2011


I watch the caravans of deceit
In your eyes
Glittering, glowing strands
Over golden, barren sands

Carrying their cargo
Of mirages

I watch the caravans of deceit
In your eyes
They pass me by
I look inside

In a flash
I am Mehajabeen
(Did you whisper that in my ear?)

The night sky lines my eyes with sorcery
The North Star is my diamond nose stud
The sickle moon clasps my hair
In a thick, passionate coil
(Did you caress that through my hair?)

Not only you
But the whole world
Lies besotted
At my feet
(Did you trace that on my body?)

The stars shiver in ecstasy

I am drunk with the infinite horizons
Of my own possibilities….

Something ebbs in your eyes
And dies
The golden barrenness
Are icy, dark seas
In which drowns

I watch the caravans of deceit
In your eyes
Peddling a hundred

Flowers Underfoot

I pluck the thoughts of you
From my mind
One by gentle one
Rejecting imperfection
And as I do
Their fragrance brushes my heart
Like a surprising breeze on a summer night
Then I remember
The beauty of you

I pluck the thoughts of you
From my mind
One by gentle one
And I happily plan what I will do with them....
A garland?
Or just strew them on your warm, sleeping face?
I anticipate you smile
Smell your warm, heady embrace nuzzle my body

And I pluck the thoughts of you
From my mind…

And watch you
Trample them underfoot
And I think
How strange it is
That they smell even sweeter when crushed

And then I remember
The beauty of you…

I pluck the thoughts of you….

Painting : A Basket of Jasmine Blossoms Being Harvested for Perfume By William Albert Allard

Sambhalo Ise

Sambhalo ise

Bin bulaye mehman

Na jaane kitne dewaaron mein
Apne baahen ko tang diye
Ek muskurahat ke keel ke sahare

Sambhalo ise
Is Umeed pe udti hui ki
Na jaane kab
Do pyar bhari baaton ki godh mein
Zindagi kat jaayegi

Sambhalo ise

Yeh mera dil…