straight picture syndrome

a tilted frame
now inclined towards you
pretends to kiss
the walls of our minds
one corner off
two others chipped
we begin to balance
on the sole corner
dying to be left behind
a straight picture syndrome
among the sights set free
a straight picture syndrome
don't you ever see?

a little lived life
went really far away
and when it came back
the bones began to play
half un-lived this life
and half began to sway
life took strange pause
and went off on his way

watered not much
not much sun shined
and yet that stray sapling
among the rest, survived.

For the three best things that happened to November.

i have a bunch of wishes
the kind that come true
among the million hitches
if you only knew

a story to tell

letters linger
and words sigh
spread across your
bright blue sky

images flutter
and gaze belies
emerging from your
stark naked eyes

words border
and the page flies
telling the story
in a few lovely lies

that it's not the icecream but the laughter when it melts as we have it...
that it's not the new clothes but the eyes that like to dress you in joy...
that it's not the destination but the long rewarding ride together...
that it's not the sleeping on time but the sleeping with a smile...
that it's not the things that need to be in place but the priorities...
that it's not the nostalgia but the new budding moment...
that it's not the pages read but the sense made...
that it's not the distance but the desire to bridge it...
that it's not the meal but the making it together...
that it's not the advice that anyone seeks but the inspiration...
that it's not the things to-do but the hands that write those lists out...
that it's not the tiles but the paws that go pitter-patter on them...
that it's not the lips but the long lingering course towards them...
that it's not the happiness but the ability to truly find it...

1. I want to read my brand new copy of Gone with the Wind with Astro tucked into bed around my feet.

2. I want to bake pizzas and listen to my parents repeat their a-pizza-is-no-dinner lecture.

3. I want to listen to Mamma hum some old Bangla song while cooking in the kitchen.

4. I want to watch silently as my friends talk, hit, tease, swear and just generally be themselves.

5. I want to open my closet and read the letter that Pooja gave me on the last day of college.

6. I want to buy chunky, daring and bright earrings for my sister and watch her show them off to me proudly and say "you'd never carry something like this off anyway."

7. I want to trick Dad into saying September which he lisps and pronounces as "Sectemper."

8. I want to tease my Nani about how pretty she gets with age and watch her blush.

9. I want a call from a cousin.

10.I want to go to Blossoms to browse, Java City to chat, K C Das to gorge on desserts, Ulsoor lake to unwind my mind, Calcutta for a holiday...on on and on.

A list of ordinary happiness.

sometimes she
takes an endless year
to take down things
that were built so dear

sometimes she
puts on your lack of fear
and spends the long night
with a devil so near

sometimes she
rings up a random tear
and you think she's met her
perpetually darkened seer

sometimes she...

a puppet and a doll
into our worlds
took a stroll
and when the doll
danced her dark teary eyes
and the puppet
leaped to the stringy ties
nobody laughed
and everyone cried
that we were the same
none of us denied
the puppet puzzled
the doll lost all delight
back to the realm of toys
the only place for them right

a fractured hand
deep inside piles of the past
a divide in its grip
it perpetually needs a cast

a fractured hand raiding
a dump of death and dark
the fingertips just touch
the sliver of hope the spark

a fractured hand deftly
takes the Bible apart
and rises uncertainly to feel
the faith in human heart

a fractured hand but
is no steel clasp
like sand salt or the raging raindrops
it eludes every closed grasp

there is this complete silence
and with one hand behind
your unseen ear
you seek
songs
you insist
like a mother
that a deaf child finds
songs in this complete silence

i was in a hurry
when on my way to august
i bumped into time
she was standing amond debris
of jetplanes, dear days and desiccated roses

i was in a hurry
when on my way to august
i bumped into time
and questioned her neat smirk
about the jetplanes, dear days and desiccated roses

i was in a hurry
when on my way to august
i bumped into time
and she said she'd never taken another step
oh she'd never run towards racing days after
the jetplanes, dear days and desiccated roses

in the unequal measures
and a stranger's stolen smile
in dementia's locked treasures
and the sunset that sons defiled
lies the unreturnedness they call life

It's amazing what an evening spent at an old age home can do to kick some perspective back into one's life.

Someone immeasurably dear turns thirty today. The thirty years say next to nothing about him (except for slightly hinting at his little paunch that I feel compelled to make a dig at whenever I sniff out even half a chance) and I find it rather difficult to define, compare or write about him. But, I try still…

you are

like one warm weary old sweater

that we always find place for in any cupboard we own

that we always seek out when we are cold

that we always treasure despite the areas torn

that we always get into after the show of gold

Happy Birthday, Da! You know I could think of enough and more instances that make each line true. And that is just so heartening.

the shine of the diamond
you were
cannot be stifled in the dead air
of the box
that closed oh so suddenly

for someone i never knew and think of almost everyday...

the turned page asks
for laws to be unwritten
for laughter to always be free
and the memories forever framed

staring at you
from the card
the black eyes of
the joker peer
your fingers
swift and sound
prioritize

the joker cries
as luck lies
you are just
a house of cards

A peering pair of brown irises.
I wonder. I wonder what you seek.
And so intently try to read.

losing grip

come may
come what may
the grime
under the nails
the lines of our palms
now changed
the cuts
the scratches
the bruises
and little rivers
of running blood

the wrist in its grip
has life
and all our
lost strength
come may
come what may

for six feet of resilience.
and the size four feet that drag me along anyway...

i looked intently
for signs of life
in life
in the green of the leaves
in the sparkle of the water
in the smiles you gifted
in the tears you didn't shed
in the dreams we never rode
into reality
i looked intently
for signs of life
in life

and life
let the quest sway
she turned away
i lied and i lived on...
i lived on


for a friend of a friend...for inspiring :)
thank you, you two :)