Ordinary Shenanigans

It is late September morning.

The air smells of

Impending winter.

We are doubtful, divided -

arguing, advising,

assuring, ruminating

Whether a half-sweater 

Or a full one 

Would have been handy and

Wise to wear

Or whether it'd be too hot

As the day approaches.

Things ordinary people do -

In a place that flaunts

Velvet dresses and corduroy shirts.

Numinous

When you are around

Everything ordinary is a unique experience.

I pass through a door in a crammed city and

Find myself in the middle of a dense forest.

A needle kisses me and I

Burst into colourful jelly fishes.

I ring the bell of an unknown house and

God opens the door, smiling.

I warble a dirge and

It suddenly turns into a love song.

I consume food and

Flowers bloom inside my stomach.

I pass by a graveyard and

Blush with their animated greetings.

Rest of the times,

The world is an ancient stone wall

I keep bumping into

Even with my eyes open.

Singularity

I won't tell you about

What happened in the protest.

No!

The chants of Azadi

The teargas

The shelling

The blood

The routine

No!

I would rather report to you 

What happened before it all:

How you savoured 

Loads of cheap Nadir Monji

By a roadside shop

Smacking your lips

After eating loads of Chetin

While your eyes glowed with life and declared:

Now is the time to Rule.

- a moment of truth

Before everything turns 

Into nothing but images.

Poor images.

Pixelated images.

Viral images.

Shared images.

Commented images.

Birthday kinda Poem

I once thought

I'll be an awesome singer.

A breathtaking tabla player.

A fabulous designer.

An erudite poet.

An interior designer.

A dangerous spin bowler.

I once thought I could be anything,

Anyone.

Yet 

Here it is

Another birthday

And here I am

Sitting in a peculiar remote place

With barely anyone around

Except frightful mountains -

Drowned in paperwork

Adding subtracting numbers -

Money somebody

Owes to someone else.

Solving riddles in a strange dialect.

Construction work that

Tires the ears.

Screaming that keeps even

Birds away.

(A 'Christina's World' kind of ambience

set in Kashmir

with added local macabre)

Thinking about nothing else other than

The necessity

To keep my organs from failing

By eating and drinking at regular periods of time.

Trying hard

To be alive

For the next day.

Aphasia

The clothes know

How to talk

To the wind,

Flailing outside on the rope

Fitted at both ends

With nothing but long sticks.

So are we,

In almost the same manner 

Unlettered 

To talk to you, God

In this life -

Beaten, hung on the rope of breaths

Fitted at both ends

With long sleek versions 

Of nothing but ourselves.

The Road to Perdition

The rustling of self-doubt

The recurrent barking of thoughts

The mattress of hard feelings

The unanticipated scratching of memories

The honking on the highway of embarrassment

The clueless snoring of disappointments

The quilt of inexpiable mistakes

The perpetual gnawing of insomniac grief

The penumbral ceiling of responsibilities

The cushion of unfulfilled dreams

The distant fusillade of guilt

Nothing beats loneliness

Like a dreadful night.

Weather Chronicles

By night -

Here:

One foot 

Outside the 

Warm blanket

Showing solidarity

With your weather.

There:

You mumbling 

My name 

In sleep

Sweating the clouds

With embarrassment.

By day - 

Arguing about the weak phone signal.

While it is windy here

It rains there.

Parents

. . . sometimes we need to wear our parents’ clothes and look at ourselves for a long time in the mirror.

                                                                 - Alejandro Zambra

                                                               Ways of Going Home

First come the wrinkles or

Those are what we notice first.

The white hair streaks afterwards.

You kiss them on the cheeks

Then suddenly their neat tears fall.

Then comes the elbow pain

Or groin

The heart palpitations thereafter

Then those terrible tiny little fights.

Then the cataracts

The vigils next

Or the early clanging of utensils.

The upset stomach.

Then the plaques

The irises stiffer

Then the teeth start falling off.

The skin spray-paints itself unevenly 

Loosens

Then the joints stiffen...

Then one day

A phone call, an inkling or

While you are away 

Buying groceries

Some random neighbour half-hugs and 

Takes you home

Against your wish.

Then comes the reckoning.

Then one day

Your child kisses you and

Then the tears.

Again.