I'm Back

Recalcitrant, procrastination
paralyzes my thoughts,
how much do I owe myself
the writing on the wall.
The beast in the dwelling
refuses to stay mute,
words smirch the wall
like a man defecating.

Island

The raw deliberation
of my thoughts
crawl between sentences;
A snail in the bogs of
indifference,
I thurst for knowledge.

Speechless

The silence reveberates
in my mind,
Paralysed by ineptitude
I see the world limp by;
Mediocrity!
I agonise over words
none can understand.

My Space

The margins of my
notebook scrawl with triva;
The almanac - answers to life.
The din of my existence,
peppered with seasoning
to make a meal of leftovers.
Child? Mother? Lover?

I’m interrupted again.

Spinach

She sits on the pavement,
Emaciated and cantankerous,
Selling spinach.

Fresh spinach! Green spinach!
Only rupees four for a bunch.

Bent fingers mix tobacco and
Lime; the pavement is her spittoon,
Selling spinach.

Fresh spinach! Green spinach!
Only rupees four for a bunch.

She heckles passers by, louder than
the rest; Her eyes miss nothing,
Selling spinach.

Fresh spinach! Green spinach!
Only rupees four for a bunch.

Make dal for your love or plain curry;
Bind him to your heart, she tells me.
Selling spinach.

Fresh spinach! Green spinach!
Only rupees four for a bunch.

Life is really simple,
she tells me once more,
Just cook some spinach
For rupees four.

Mirror

lines criss cross
to outlaugh life,
eyes smile.

Old Towel

An old towel on the clothesline,
I wonder whose it is?
Hangs apart from the rest of the clothes,
as if embarrassed.
Two pegs hold it firmly,
Shaitan’s emissaries,
My friend is really unconcerned,
and sways gently in the breeze.