Sunday, November 13, 2011

Say,how do you work?

“But what difference is it going to make? knowing all that?
What’s the use if there’s nothing you’re going to do with it?”

The little you would get stern orders before we went any place –“Don’t touch anything. Its not yours to fiddle with.”
You, head bowed, a little subdued, not very sure what was SO wrong in a little bit of …those mysterious things looked down from shelves so fetchingly….

That’s why family homes were so much more of a relief. They didn’t really mind when you picked up the old toaster, the new radio, the nodding doll ,the cuckoo clock and took it apart.

Oblivious to the sighs of exasperation and resignation you persisted in sending your swank new toy car hurtling down the flight of stairs.To see at what point it would shatter.

Our grandfather took up a contrary viewpoint.
“Why are you scolding him so much ?Its good, he should become an engineer.”
Indulgent smiles went around.That’s right.You would become an engineer.Build bridges and machines.

Big word.Engineer.I don’t know if you knew what it meant.I don’t know how much it had to with why you were compulsively prising open covers.

Funny that I should have to explain to you now.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Your Thing of Beauty.

You earned it the hard way.
Paid for it,
Signed documents,
Set up sentry.

But I can steal just by looking.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011


You were grieving the loss of your mother
You told us on Facebook.
It was a confusing matter of nettiquette
Whether or not to 'like' the status.
I followed the beaten path
And decided in favour of it
But prudently added "Be strong.She is in our hearts"
To balance it out .
You know.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


The child was looking on with puckered brows at his mother watering the plants. Serious,in his vest and knickers and surnburnt littleness.

The jet of water caught the sun before it broke against leaves.

She glanced back, noticed , and with an impish grin turned the hose on him. Like a startled animal he squawked and ran leaving wet footprints on the ground which simmered and disappeared .I remember dipping my finger into sandalwood paste and drawing such footprints towards our idols on days of pujas.It meant-A god has been here.

But suddenly the game changed.He padded back ,curious, what?she won’t come after me? Another sudden drenching .Giggles.

In retaliation he tore off his clothes.Darting around,now gloriously naked,the water would not leave him be.His mother behind it,relentless and laughing.
What a young mother,I notice.

I will turn off the tap while brushing tomorrow.
Let’s leave some water for others to waste.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

You Know Poet

You know poet,
Once you're done
So much is no longer mine.

I feel.
Then think-Why isn't this just what...
Then feel,
But self consciously.

You know poet,
Once you're done
You lose me my voice.

I speak.
Then retract-Why,it's so commonplace!
Then speak
The commonplace.

You know poet.
MY afternoon
Is sun washed?
I try soaked
Then give up.

You know poet,
Once you're done
So much is no longer mine.