In Sin.

Once there was a couple
Who lived in bin,
Solemnly chewed the garbage
That people threw in,
And then,exchanging
A conspiratorial grin
They spat it all out-
Thoo!

At the concert

He didnt get the music either
But sat caught up with the lights
Comfortable in his stupidity.

My little cousin was sitting in the corner of a room and muttering excitedly.Eyes shining,face flushed.I went and queitly sat beside her.So she put her small face next to mine and whispered-
soosoopotty soosoopotty soosoopotty...
Magic words.With the glamour of forbiddeness

Oh dear.Whats all the fuss about?Its so easy to be happy.

so scared.

I’ve seen her walking to school in the morning,Macaulay House skirt grazing the dust,mouth turned downward in perpetual discontent.I’ve heard she talks to flowers.
I’ve heard she kicks those classmates who tease her and stomp off to have tiffin in the loo.Alonely.
I know she perversely refuses to do all she must.Wont answer questions.Won’t do group work.Will sit cross legged and barefeet in class.Wont listen.
Will draw bizarre squiggles and call it ‘chader ulto dik’.
‘Why don’t you have any friends in class?’
‘They are all fool’contemptuous,resigned.
Then she plucks a ragged weed from the field-Good morning maam.;
Her parents are preparing her for the JEE.Her teachers are hammering in social niceties.She continues to kick.
Intelligent children generally look it.She looks like two scoops of melting ice cream.Two sloppy,tired globes.Two wary,cowlike eyes.
World,fragile,handle with care.

Curious

What is life?

Why is there so much hatred in the world?

Does God really exist?

Is physics truly not poetry?

Who thought up this trash?
This substite for questionlessness?
And passed it down
From generation to generation
As dummmies guide to thinking person...

Who made such a hash
Of the idea of profundity?
And made keywords of
God and Life and Stars.

Someone filched my wallet.
Who picked my pocket?
I want to know
So I can snatch it back
And give him a piece of my mind.
Filthy,stinking thief..

I want to know
In a furious, urgent way
That has nothing to do with
Making impressions.


ps.dear god,please let this not be obscure again.

Style

The horse trotted in
With a dainty clip clop
Dust sent spinning
In neat rings
Pearly drops clung to its brow

The lid presses down
On a gathering warmth
The spout arches tortuously outward
Vapour has dimmed the swollen,
Scalding surface.

These modern day political thinkers are so ugly.Big tomato noses,that ungainly way of slouching over the table and those protruding opinionated elbows.Fighting it out on THE BIG FIGHT,raucous voices turning shrill in excitement.Hideous, really.Even the polished public school types.Just as bloated with opinions.Besides,they're ugly too.
Yet thoroughly enviable.
Its as though they've plunged their hands into a dark abyss called 'the world',coiled their fingers around the place and come away with a more a more active understanding.Just a little corner perhaps which they often cant see beyond.But what of it.Sit back and watch,these corners sometimes coalesce into a chunk of clear knowledge.
No,I have no great thirst for knowledge but clarity is just..sexed out.
For here we have the modern world i.e rushing pushing mess and modern people churning up -humour,anger,ambition.And all this has bumped into each other and rattled about and made ONE BIG SCRAMBLE.Now what?
Don't we need them now?To get under the skin of things,establish links and burrow towards the truth.Ever so often they're wide of the mark.Oftener they get warped in the process.But they help.Never the less.
Poetry does the same sometimes.Lights up unlikely spots with a flash.Of course the treatment is much more irreverent,cocky almost.But in essence,similar.
I think I want to be an understander.Is that a career option?

P.S-This is a little off the cuff and heavily unedited.Apologies.