Person of the Year

To the one who endured it all.

Didn't complain.

Sobbed in the crevices of the Soul.

Woke in the middle of the nights

yawning for sleep patterns.

Held beliefs contrary to the popular.

Forgot that the calendar year comes to an end,

because actually it doesn't and understood

Life is a continuous halo sewed

with patchwork of struggles 

so intricately worked upon,

no one seems to notice:

a cloth sold in flea markets.

To the one 

mindful of the fact that

throes of survival are unpoetic

even when recounted at the year-end

to one's own family and friends.

Dissembling

Fingers sponge

the corners of the eyes and

make rivers disappear.

Knuckles persuade the nose

to behave.

Palms desiccate the cheeks -

an extended reluctant smile.

-

Hands speak an elite language

to a makeup laden face

burdened with grief.

Perfume

(for Ovais Ahmad)

He took his time to speak,

which he often does,

unknotting the moments,

to qualify it appropriately

so that

I understand exactly 

what he intended to convey.

petrichor - you know?

something closer to the feeling,

he paused.

The details then -

he bought that

particular perfume,

although expensive,

because its aroma reminded him

of something he couldn't enter

on his own.

Hence, throughout the day,

happily, 

even at night -

he carried his own grave with him

like some personalized pillow,

like crucial documents.

Throughout,

his body was his own grave.

He smelled Human -

spirited and decaying

hic et nunc.

Negotiations

Lost earrings, 

misplaced books,

dying plants in pots -

these things concern her 

considerably.

For them, she weeps 

like a professional mourner.

Meanwhile,

illness - even Death 

are her constant companions.

She negotiates reasonably with them,

calling them comrades

at times.

In other Places

It is drizzling and

you already

are on your way

to meet me

carrying a colourful umbrella

- this happens in 

an imaginary city

where we stay together.

In other places,

where we actually 

act on living,

far away from each other,

reality strikes hard -

like a cloudburst

until it uproots

the ability to love altogether.

Enclosures

The conference table

barges violently into structures 

with all its paraphernalia -

mics and files and gadgets.

Everyone listens carefully, attentively.

If one looks closely

there are even rapporteurs.

The officiating nature is hard to lose.

The only thing now is

to decide the agenda of the ritual.

But that is when the garnished

meal gets served

and everyone 

starts chomping on it like humans

- the usual.

The tables are thumped yet again,

mics erupt in high pitched tones

- wailing.

In this melee,

nobody bothers to hear the vote of thanks

presented by the ever blabbering home loan.

The conference table

barges violently into structures -

wrecks into our homes

as an oaken pestilence.

Interstices

While we pretend 

to understand world affairs,

indulge in 

minting money, 

overthrowing postions,

manipulating data, 

confabulating politics, 

somewhere,

in an unclaimed touristy place,

polar bears roll on ice,

ants laugh at diabetics,

mountain goats defy gravity,

elephants play in mud,

spiders dangle above cleanliness,

pandas rip bamboos apart,

a little child learns cursive alphabets or

discovers the joy of eating ice cream.

Somewhere else, as well

a poet writes a poem,

that nobody

would ever read,

and smiles -

precisely for the same reason.