For one who died last night …

I think I know how you felt
at that time.
Wasn’t it a pale green hallway,
where windows offer no reflection
and the door doesn’t promise life beyond?

I think I know it all.

looking at the photo of a dead stranger

I feel I have known it all.

You could not chase
the elephant away,
It was probably eavesdropping.

but pretending might have had helped for a while

 until you remembered

 that elephant has big ears.

Until you were married,
you never bothered about the plural space. And then
the birds in the binoculars settled in a cage.

You got your marriage certificate photocopied.
The marriage became a metropolis –
you and him its anonymous citizens.

After you left
for the land where no one dances in the rain,

He must have found worlds

full of memories

long after you’ve lost it.

You lie in bed,

A strange sickness in your bones

pinning you

eyelid to toe nail.

As I share a heartbroken

cup of coffee with the man I have fallen in love with

holding hands yet realizing the ocean
between us,

I feel I have known what you felt then.

I sent you all my prayers,

you returned half,
attaching a note:  You need these too.

He asks if I need to be held.

 I am not sure. Not anymore.

If comfort is disloyal

can a roomful of grief

ever have happiness?

I know how you felt at that point of time.

Like I often do,

You too must have stepped out of yourself

and wanted to observe her,

She,

Who has perpetually walked,

casting and recasting herself

to be with people, who

had accepted and rejected her

at convenience,

As you sang with her

cried with her

standing there, observing,

It became too late stepping back into yourself again!

And I sit still

by the side of the television news

looking at your dead photograph

I more dead than you

I think I have known how you felt.

Tit for Tat ...

The arrest of Devyani Khobragade claims that she had lied on a visa form for her domestic help. She was handcuffed, strip searched, kept in a cell as per the US law that is same against anyone violating the law. And this indeed is such a grave issue of national concern, obviously much more than the poverty, corruption or environmental decay of our country, that it led to a stressful relationship between India and US hitting an all-time row. India has time and again shown how they provide special respectable treatments to criminals of well known, famous connections. How often these suspected criminals get easy bail for the most heinous crime just because someone is a film star or someone’s father has solid political connection. They even get mutton biriyani served in the jail. If India can treat suspected criminals in this manner, why should the US not? Is it not the land of the free? 

 Immediately after Khobragade’s arrest, in a show of unrestrained bravado and patriotism security barriers outside the US embassy in New Delhi were removed. Tit for Tat, wow! The best way to teach a lesson for harassing one of our corrupt officials! That indeed is called National Love! All the political parties and opinion leaders came all out to protect India’s “prestige” and “dignity”! Bravo! There have been placards saying “Long Live Devyani”!In another justified development, when a US diplomat lost his way in Delhi fog and mistakenly overtook Robert Vadra’s convoy (how dare he? Doesn't he know that RV is the country’s most important son-in-law??!!)  – he was promptly strip searched and made to spend the night outside the police station in freezing cold. He is now recuperating from pneumonia. So rightly served! 

And of course the political leaders in an extremely righteous manner refused to meet the American congressional delegation visiting Delhi. After all, we need to keep up our Indian maturity and self-esteem! This indeed is exactly THE way to show that after all India IS powerful and so what if cases like NIRBHAYA, DOWRY, BRIDE BURNING are still rampant, we Indians know how to show our fangs when it is needed! 

And I think, from now on we all should start feeding all our spicy chilli paneer, masala pizza, korma and makhani to all those American expatriates. And the govt also should serve only Andhra mirchi bhajjis to the US embassy. That would really teach them how we Indians can save our “respect”. 

We all participate in joining hands against the illogical demands that the domestic staff in our diplomats’ homes should be paid according to standards. It’s time we educate the world that not all people should be equal and we should never allow anyone to break down the class or caste system that we so proudly bear in our country. Remember, your support is not just for Khobragade or Indian diplomats but it is for all of us! If diplomats are not allowed to forge visa papers and official documents, what will happen to us common men?! This undeniably is a fight for our rights, to kink the law! So what if Sangeeta, the domestic help, is equally an Indian as Khobragade? After all, domestic helps are “servants” and how come the world isn't aware of this? How ridiculous? So what if we have hit 2014, servants cannot have the same feelings, dreams, and legitimate rights like the diplomats!

 This definitely is the right kind of concern for the otherwise timid Indian Government to make it a “prestige issue” and to show an unexpected courage for not being brow beaten by the US anymore! Bravo!

Having said this, I must admit that there is always another side of the story and most often there is so much more than what the mere eyes see! A close friend of mine has told me the following. He is not an Indian and is born and brought up in the US. I saw some sense in what he said. So let me post his perspective as well ... He said -----
"Strip search is not for anyone violating the law …it comes only in complicated cases where the law clearly states “there must be a reasonable suspicion that the detainees is in possession of weapons or other contraband " before a strip search can be conducted. Statesmanship,diplomacy, international affairs are not always and entirely based on ethics as a diplomat, you are representing a whole nation; what Devyani did could be despicable, but what was done to her ( if it is true to the extent it was exposed on Media or accused by Indian government) is highly deplorable and if it was done to any US official by any other government, that could even lead to a III world war. I really wonder why some of the Indians (mostly those who migrated to the US and those who win the bread here) blindly swallow the "law of the land" nonsense. In Raymond Allan Davies case (a diplomat who was arrested for double murder in Pakistan, not long ago); the same US government was all out for "diplomatic immunity". Even a frisk search of a diplomat is considered highly unpardonable. Devyani was not convicted, not suspected to be carrying any contraband or arms. There is much more than what meets the eye in this case and whatever retaliatory steps India government did was justifiable. I wish other nations had also grown some spine!"

Untitled ...

She writes poetry in the middle of the night

hair undone

eyes fixed at the golden moon.

When everyone is asleep

She bakes and eats the pulpy sadness

She is a witch

Or perhaps a lunatic.

But her soul is still a virgin.

Its soft petal skin

as old as the primordial thought;

Its every breath is a new hymen pattern.

Looking for peace

It grows wings

and transforms into a butterfly.

It takes a roll call of

all tall promises and smiles.

And its sadness is like a white hibiscus

resting on a garden fence.

Do you remember the gold fish

that used to swim in her heart

before it turned into melted ice? ... 

Surpanakha's soliloquy

My much-loved friend,
my most despised friend! 

We loved the same man

rightfully yours and

oh so wrongly mine!

It's a chance that you stood

behind the protected zone of

the lakshman rekha and I

on the neglected other!

But you became the Goddess

and I the whore!

Your unwavering love became his support and my unconditional one his deepest secret! My dearest friend, my most despised friend, I weep for both of us. Your silent scream matches mine my darling sister my most hated sister we are each other’s hidden secrets we are each other’s secret pain. I cry for both of us for the life that gradually drips away from your fingers and the illusory one that I struggle to hold in my palm, we the beloved and the betrayed you the Goddess and I the whore we are the She; day dawns the same for you and me. .Ref:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surpanakha

The third ...

The Third

is like an elf,

cute and coiled

with a snail face

and a needle nose,

always existing in marriage.

A child or adultery,

tea cup and cigarette,

television or silence,

there is always a third 

with its shadow looming tall on a wall

that does not depart with the Sun;

Also, those worry lines on your forehead

that has nothing to do with age.

It’s a snail, withdrawing the tip of its head

into the stone shell

at times, poking its head out

winking,

moving inside its hard robust covering

even when not seen. The third is

a rotten fish smell that reaches you much before

you go to the market place.

You, her, I and the third – we all eat and thrive on betrayal. 

living ...

 Parsley, spinach, celery or lettuce;

get those green leafy ones;

they are good for health.

If you can’t buy, just pluck them

 from here and there.

Soak for a while in hot water

drain and dry

and you would be able to smell the

apple-green freshness.

Tear off the part that disturbs.

Sit gingerly,

 segregate the good and the rotten ones

with deft fingers dancing in a mysterious grace.

Snip off the blackened part

Split the spoilt edge

Slash away the bitter stem

And slit the thickened chunk.

Just a dash of salt n pepper

and sprinkling of sauce n oil;

Celebrate the union

and it’s magnetism in a bowl.

Eat them with rice or bread

Or even raw if you fancy.

Or else, feed them to a cow;
it will bring a li'l change
in the whisper of a breath,
in the echo of a smile
take a chance and just see.

Find a place in the soil and plant your destiny.

Water it with your own hands and

let a creeper of hope grow.

Pluck and fold the dreams neatly

clean it

clear it

and keep them fresh.

Find the corner under its shade and

 scream if the pain does not heal, and then

dump the rotten part

drown the noisy drum

straighten the uneasy bend

smoothen the roughened bounce.

Remember to eat well your leafy green vegetables.

My predestined lover ...

 I could only see the jaded green frame of the window.

Dust has settled along the pane.

Once upon a time, there used to be a face of a beautiful woman

whose eyes were hungry with hopes of tomorrow.

But now

There is a strange eerie silence in the darkness behind.

And then, suddenly, on that day as I looked up,

hoping to see the same uncanny blackness,

 I saw Death; his shadow

perched on the windowsill.

Death had dropped in for a chat, on that day.

He wore the same rugged look and

 was dangerously handsome with his locks

 that were as tangled as my existence.

When I told him that he is Emily’s lover and

it would be a sin for me to come close to him

He laughed in his usual baritone voice

 that was irresistible and

 I found a thrill in this adultery!

He wanted to know, why I keep resisting him.

Why I fight the battle that eventually would be lost?

He smiled, and I knew at that moment

he would come to meet me now and then

till I surrender. And eventually we would be together

and it is going to be an insane love affair.

Death, my predestined lover,

I knew at that instant

 I would throw away morality and caution like shabby old clothes

 to live those dizzying moments with you.

Clasping concern with one hand

gagging conscience with the other

I will come to your arms with a readiness of a rain drop

that rushes to kiss the Earth.

But

Till then let me breathe the splendour of an airborne acrobat.

Till then let me kiss the roasted golden Sun. 

Let me whirl and pirouette in a tango

with my brittle thoughts and unborn hope.

Let me be the lover of rain and bear him a child.

Till then let me try remaking life

with swatches of stolen memories.