You and I (and sometimes another)

I.
It is not just you and I.
It's the world.
And yet we doubt,
cringe,
crib,
and cry at our failures.
Ours, we say,
And lament again.

II.
I looked into the mirror
And saw you.
She was by your side too.
We looked a pretty pair -
You, me and she.

And yet there was an ugliness,
damp as the thunderstorm outside,
making the mirror vapour-ridden.

Suddenly the images become distorted
And we all merge into each other,
forming a shape none of us know.

III.
Your words speak my thoughts
Your poems express my emotions
Your touch resonates my yearning.
My darling,
You and I are meant to be One.

I complete your sentences
I embody your imagination
I blow life into your breath.
My darling,
You and I are meant to be One.

IV.
Where did she come from,
like a sprout on the window sill
After a week of rain?

What is she doing here,
like a blown strand of hair
rolling on the floor amid dust?

Where is she taking you,
like the witches of yore
who enchant and destroy?

V.
You licked my ears,
tingling the soul,
And I heard her laugh
in those very ears.

You cupped my breast
with trembling hands
And I felt her touch,
I saw her shuddder.

You kissed my neck
with a soft-falling breath
And I knew her smell
upon your pink lips.

I see her in you.
Whom do you see in me, darling?

On heartaches and faults

I.

It wasn’t his fault,

Nor was it mine;

And yet guilt hangs around us all the time

Like mist in Coorg,

Or Nainital.

We met one day and parted

with such a deep wound in hearts

that it tore them to shreds,

Like an enlarging tear on clothes.

II.

I lied to him

That I was a virgin.

You are the first to touch me, I said,

And he hugged me in delight,

Slowly sliding his hands up my skirt.

I did not flinch.

He immediately withdrew.

No. you’re not a virgin.

You’ve seen men before.

I don’t want you, he said,

And moved to the next girl in the line.

III.

My heart ached, and the sun smiled at me.

My heart ached, and the sun said goodbye across the sea.

My heart ached, and the moon turned bright and round.

My heart ached, and the moon blackened its visage in grief.

My heart ached, and the winds sang to me.

My heart ached, and the winds roared at my window.

My heart ached, and the dust rose up in a cheer.

My heart ached, and the rain invited me for a dance.

My heart ached… and Mother Nature said, Move On, child.

Snippets from a poet's mind

I.
The eyes once refused
to see the colours of hope.
And now the darkness has settled upon them.

II.
We heard a song together once
And rode upon its lyrics to heaven.
I came crashing down when the CD got stuck,
And you got stuck in the audio output wire.

III.
Those memories pain me yet.
What do they do to you, dear?

IV.
I want to be like the tides,
That rejoice in nothing but the frolic
of carrying memories
but not in burden, not in pain.

V.
I look out of the window every time
I hear the mating screech of kites.
They care not for a dime
Of my two watchful eyes.

VI.
I watch the clock tick,
Listen to the chirp of birds,
Feel the breeze from the ceiling fan,
Follow the notes of my thoughts.

I'm quite busy, darling.
No time for sorrows, loneliness or pain.

VII.
True to my word,
I didn't speak to you so long.
But what about the million conversations
We carry out in my head every day?

Opening Up To The Night

I.
Every night,
A tear waits to escape
from the well of the face.
There's nothing to holding it back;
There's free will and independence -
But for a ray of hope
in the brain that dries it
before it can make its escape.

II.
There's something about the dark.
Its mysterious quality is captivating.
Dreams are born in the night
And so is love and most of my poetry.
It hides fears and affection in its bosom.
It scares and comforts,
It pains and pampers,
It breeds violence and peace.

When all's bright, during the day,
There's all the life and the world to seek.
But it's the night that brings you out.
You stand face to face
not with another, but your self.
It scares and comforts,
Pains and pampers,
Breeds violence and peace.

Conversations of a night

I.
Why, darling,
I'm sorry
I slept off before you finished your story.

What were you saying?
Oh yes, your father died when you were four,
Your mother was raped by his best friend
And you,
Yes you were sold to Thailand.

I am so sorry about that.
But I'm glad I came to Bangkok -
I saw such beautiful sights,
Such ravishing women -
And met you.

I had such a great night, thank you.
I'm going back to India tomorrow.
You take care.

Darling, you were awesome.
And so sorry about your parents.
Especially Mother, Yes.

II.
Did you dream today too?
Forget it.
This is it.
No moving forward.
Honey, the darkness is all you've got.
Enjoy its soothing, personal touch.

Your darkness is your alone, isn't it?
Find me a day that's yours.

No, don't aspire for it.
Stagnate.
There's bliss in it.

What?
You choose to move on?
And leave me alone?
All right.
Let melancholy be mine alone....

III.
The dawn brings promises
Of more memories, good and bad,
Of new acquaintances and relations,
Of fresh rays of hope and peace.

A cup of coffee in hand,
We savour the promises
and promise to do our best.

The phone rings.
Your father passed away
peacefully, in his sleep last night.

Suddenly you dread the dawn of the night
And the end of the smooth darkness.

Picking up pieces

I.
Mirror reflects my being,
But where do I look to find my soul?

Somewhere within the walls of this body
It lies maimed and shattered.

Picking up pieces after a massacre
Is not easy,
Not motivating.

Will you help me,
I ask the mirror.
And it stares back at me in silence,
As helpless as me.

I look around again,
And everyone is picking up their pieces.

At least, I'm just one of them.
Not alone in my misery.
Heartening.

II.
Her life’s in a mess.
And she plays Freecell,
Wins the game,
And assures herself she can conquer it all.

She goes to the Church,
Looks at the imposing Christ before her
And sheds a tear,
Apologises to her men,
And pretends to be strong.

Alone, at home,
she smiles into the mirror,
Which too scorns at her.

There are tears of grief somewhere,
That struggle to break the steel armour.
But if she lets it break, would she be happy?

No.
She has to live her life.
She has to clear the mess herself,
Pay for it through her own karma.
She smiles again at the mirror,
And it smiles back at her.

Right.