361. The calendar-keeper

let me warn you
not to visit her

she
lives in
a day of many seasons

each hour
she sprouts a hundred
naive ideas
restless thoughts

each hour
she blooms a hundred
colorful dances
of passion and wrath
and love and regret
and exuberance and desolation

each hour
she sheds her being
in crumbly words
and sits in an empty hull
shrouded in
dark silence
and white noise

let me warn you
not to visit her

those who visit her
do not live long
but they live longer
than they wished they did

360. शाम की चाय

इक वो दिन थे
जब रोज़ बीसों घंटे
धूप भिखरी पड़ी रहती थी
आँगन में

काश
मैंने धूप के कुछ सिक्के
उठाके
जमा किये होते
किसी गुल्लक में

ऐसे किया होता तो
अब जब हर दोपहर
तीन बजे
रात होने लगती है
तो गुल्लक फोड़ के
सौदा करता
जल्दबाज़ दिन से
के
कुछ देर और ठहरा करे

क्या है की
मुझे शाम के  चार बजे की चाय
यूँ
अँधेरे में  पीने की
आदत नहीं है न

359. An argument with death

why do we fear you
i asked, defiantly
when we know you are inevitable
why
i intend not to

death smiled
well, why would you not
fear me

well
you will die
and you will cease to exist
all the things that you thought
and said
and did 
and saw
and felt
and wanted
and hated
and planned for
and accomplished
and won
and lost
and loved
and lived
there will be no sign left of
most of it
and soon the last memories of you will fade
you may remain as a name
maybe
or mostly not

you will cease to exist
and you will not even know 
that you have ceased to exist
even if you really really wished for it

you will never know the end of most stories
that surround you
and you will be a story past 
none else will care about or have time for

so in essence
all that you make this life out to be
is futile
and acknowledging that thought 
makes you sad and unsettled

so you choose fear 
fear is a good surrogate for sadness
you might as well pretend
that you do not know what happens
when you die
and that scares you

better be afraid of what comes later
than be sad about the uselessness of what is now

so you pretend
and you turn me
death
into 
a poem
a parody
a person

like you are doing now
and have a fake argument
just to escape the need to accept the pointlessness of your being

so now you see
why you 
much rather fear me
because 
the alternative 
is to seek me
in hopelessness

That is how
i
lost
an argument with death

358. Boxes

packed in boxes

i had left aside 

a lot of books

planning

that 

when i find time

i will release 

all these imprisoned stories

some day

patiently

all these books

sat waiting

for a long while

in hope 

of the right time

slowly 

their pages

started turning

that familiar brittle yellow

and then 

one day

i opened the boxes

and saw

that all the stories

had aged

so much so

that

they crumbled and fell apart

at the slightest touch

i

looked at them

and smiled

we seemed

to share a story

have not i

been sitting patiently

in wait for the right time

so I could

free the story in me

maybe

one day

when i open my eyes

i will find myself

worn by time

turning that brittle yellow

and my story tender and no longer relevant

and 

when someone

comes by

and touches me ever so slightly

with care

would i crumble 

and fall apart too?

--

Translating 348.

357. Winter warriors

go
somewhere warm

where the moon
is not draped in
grey wool

where the streets
are not ablaze
with fake warmth

where you
do not have to wrap yourself
in too many layers
of thought and theatrics

go
some place warm
if you arrive before i do

and i will be there
soon
to wage a war on winter
with you

356. Grindr stories

oh you say
i sleep with the wrong kind

well
so do you

mine seek
money
and no drama

yours seek
english
and perfect punctuation
(though i don't know how grammar helps a one-night stand)

the ones i seek
want money for a living
no pretense
just food for sustenance

and yours,
they
want
an illusion of depth
a parody of intellectual stimulation

i look through my wallet
to give mine
bills

you jump through hoops
to give yours
validation

my language is
money

your currency is
language

---
ways to discriminate indiscriminately