Why does she arrive?

She comes in a tonga cart
smelling like shit
wearing tattered old clothes;
made from old bedsheets
and crown made of used paper bags.

The princess come right
onto my desk
taking a dip in my
fabulously new pool
of dark blue liquid.

But why can’t she be adorned in flowers
or decked in jwellery?
making me a pauper.

Um. Ahem.. Cough. It hurts.
A series of life-sustaining noises
creep out of this carefully sealed jar.

I can’t even find rice
to paste this envelope
like my mother used to.

Gravestone

Fitting in perfectly

laid on the clavicle

supporting the rib cage,

protecting your breathing lungs.

 

A splinter no longer than—

my finger;

Lying idle, hanging and waiting

To fall out.

 

The tiny opening,

exiting and entering.

A broken accordion,

Playing in odd rhythms.

 

A prickle on the toe.

A pebble in between the nails.

An over-stressed facial muscle.

A sprained neck, a sore gum and a blocked nose.

 

Flowers arrangements

trapped in a metal cage,

laid over a brazen stone.

 

It’s the flower,

That grows beside the corpse.

 

 

 

Rhythm. They sing. We write.

Why do they sing, Why do they write, Why do they live!

The caverns carved inside my body

Craves for food and I despise my lunch

For a  Regret for every happy smile

I fumble all over pages and over internet

To look for lives I could imitate

And then i rushed to the library

In between brown and shiny shelves

Hid those torn bundle of pages; held together by gum

They were supposed to blow life into my hollow halloween

When I read and re-read

I found it was another world

There was nothing Indian about it.

I felt pain. Betrayal and Deceit.

I tried fit in those words

I could not. i squished and crushed myself

I experienced joy in immense pain

Still my mould was casting a different figure

I began to read

Sit under tree shades

Eat large slices of mangoes

On hot summers along with long and large tumblers

Of refreshing drink ,gulping down the throat

Spilling some on the edges and wiping with my white T-shirt

Until the sun could be seen behind the misty mountains.