Sone do…

Aaj na kaam karenge, na dhanda
Na naukri, na mazdoori

Na autowalleh se bheek mangenge
‘Bhaiyya station chalo please,
Late ho jayega’
Na bus ke peeche
100 meter ki daud lagayenge

Na dive marke train mein chadhenge
Na bheed mein se baahar nikalne ki
Labour pain sahenge

Aaj stock market gir jaye
Toh catch karne nahi jayenge
Anna bhook hartal kare
Fir bhi tandoori chicken
Aur butter naan khayenge

Aaj duniya gayi bhaad mein
Jo hona hai hone do
Poore hafte ragdaayi hai
Aaj Sunday hai, sone do

Kaach Maanja

Your love was like glasspowderkitestring,
You anchored me, yet let me fly,
Nothing could ever come in my way
Except for low hanging cable wires
And damn pigeons
Who can’t watch where they’re going

…

You were with me every inch of the way
Invisible but ever-present,
And when they’d try to pull us apart,
Your sharp replies left them bloodied

…

One day I flew too far from you
‘Wind up’ you said, I disagreed
You snapped
No dheel

…

At first I thought
It was your loss
What good is glasspowderkitestring
Without the kite?
Then I saw you flying
With that empty polythene scumbag

…

No one chases a vagabond kite these days
Even if one wants to, the threat of being ass-raped
By a bunch of bullies, cannot be overlooked
Either that…
Or I totally missed the point Kite Runner was trying to make

Dissolve

A silent walk
Along the bay
The weary strings
Begin to fray

Your empty words
Your callous touch
Your stoic face
It’s all too much

The glaring lamps
The snaking lanes
The drenched stray
Stumbles in the rain

No more he asks,
No more you say,
As he dissolves,
You walk away

 

Man Overboard

Every now and then
One of them emerges
Like a drowning vacationer
Flailing his arms
Desperately

Yet everytime
you somehow manage
To miss them
Long enough
For them to sink deeper
Than ever before

Yes,
Its better
Than diving in there,
Going against the current,
Thrashing forth,
Arm over arm,
Over arm over arm,

Until you reach them,
Coughing up tales,
You’ve dreaded telling

Why the hell
Should you bring them,
Back to shore?

The days, the weeks, the months,
Of tidily organized
Disorder
Strewn about
For everyone to look at
And turn their noses up to

As if the sea
Harbours none of their secrets

Yet you know
That before anyone
Is to ever reach
Your deepest depths
You’ve got
Some cleaning to do

Man overboard

Trial and Error

Would you just look
At the mess you’re making here?
Every word that comes out of your mouth,
Hits the floor, breaks into shards
Each with a different destination in mind;
None eventually hitting the mark.

You hop, skip, jump,
Make sloppy little pirouettes,
Spin around me like a moon with a wonky orbit;
Comfortably apart one second,
Millimeters away from colliding the next.

Yet, I know you pose no harm.
If you truly knew how to conduct
This bizarre symphony of yours,
I’d be concerned.

But trial and error
Can make a chimp
Look like a genius sometimes.