Bangalore traffic! You zig and zag, You create a drag. Sometimes You flow like river rushing downhill revving engines sub for melting snow, and there’s no dam to hold you in, not even the traffic light. At other times, you’re a machine with revolting parts, each with its own brain, each talking, no one listening, … Continue reading Ode to Bangalore Traffic
Tiny green bird who flew into my room fascinated by the fan, ran circles around it and took joyrides on it like it was a carousel. Tiny green bird who refused to leave, was it the rain or were the indoors too cosy? This is not your life, little bird. Fly out, live in the … Continue reading Tiny Green Bird
Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy was one of the earliest tunes I learnt to play on a guitar a friend had lent to me. Two chords strummed with such enthusiasm, the rhythm didn’t matter. We didn’t care about getting the pitch right Even if someone thought we should. Just another memory from the times when we made … Continue reading Learning to play
When you come back home, get me a skyful of stories of the times when we were younger. Get me version two; the first one wasn't pacy enough. The rain has washed off the streets, I'll make sure they are clean, have them ready for new laughter. Come, let’s make it easier to dip into … Continue reading A skyful of stories
Bangalore traffic! You zig and zag, You create a drag. Sometimes You flow like river rushing downhill revving engines sub for melting snow, and there’s no dam to hold you in, not even the traffic light. At other times, you’re a machine with revolting parts, each with its own brain, each talking, no one listening, … Continue reading Ode to Bangalore Traffic
The cheetahwent around the junglein a wheelchair.It was his day off,and he'd also broken his foot.He still wanted to checkif the zebra had grown ripefor his next hunt.But when the wheelchair moved,its creaking joints drove everyone away,so the next day,the cheetah came riding a snail.It was all silent,and no one heard him moveexcept that when … Continue reading The cheetah’s recce
Standing in the balcony, chain red-brown with rust, trusted companion through cities and states, bisecting forests, hemming coastlines, braving rain, wind and sun and the threat of theft. No fuel guzzler this, Simply powered by idli, omelette, coffee and whatever else it found on the road. Now rests aging, joints creaking, no Hercules this, powerless … Continue reading Ode to my old bicycle
These days when I talk to my father over the phone, we speak in shorter sentences and have longer silences. I know I must factor in the internet lag and my father's advancing age, but most of all, my receding patience.
Two worlds collide.Your left,his right.It's a big battlefor elbow roomon an economy class flight.
When you leave poetry behind hoping you’ll come back to it at a better time, when you think you’ll pick the muse from the same corner of the table where you’d gently dropped it, you don’t think words could gain inertia, you don’t think they would bump into each other like awkward exes, you don’t … Continue reading When you leave poetry behind
Grains of thought 