Tuesday, December 27, 2016

361. The calendar-keeper

let me warn you
not to visit her

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

मैंने धूप के कुछ सिक्के
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
कुछ देर और ठहरा करे

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

Monday, December 19, 2016

359. An argument with death

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

death smiled
well, why would you not
fear me

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
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
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
the alternative 
is to seek me
in hopelessness

That is how
an argument with death

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

358. Boxes

packed in boxes
i had left aside 
a lot of books
when i find time
i will release 
all these imprisoned stories
some day

all these books
sat waiting
for a long while
in hope 
of the right time

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
they crumbled and fell apart
at the slightest touch

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

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

when someone
comes by
and touches me ever so slightly
with care
would i crumble 
and fall apart too?

Translating 348.

357. Winter warriors

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

some place warm
if you arrive before i do

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

356. Grindr stories

oh you say
i sleep with the wrong kind

so do you

mine seek
and no drama

yours seek
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,
an illusion of depth
a parody of intellectual stimulation

i look through my wallet
to give mine

you jump through hoops
to give yours

my language is

your currency is

ways to discriminate indiscriminately