Minakhi Misra

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  • Switching Sides

    I knew her for a long time
    Only as the girl with boys’ shoes.
    Shoes that were a bit too big.
    A bit too shabby, a bit too heavy.
    She trudged in them,
    First left, then right,
    One big boys’ shoe at a time,
    Switching sides along the way.

    The teachers didn’t mind
    And I wondered why.

    ‘Cause she also had a jute sack?
    A DIY school bag,
    Home-stitched and home-patched,
    And a string attached to heave it.
    She carried it,
    First left, then right,
    One stooped shoulder at a time,
    Switching sides along the way.

    ‘Cause she also had stone dust?
    Always in her wiry hair,
    The mineral dandruff itching.
    She scratched at it,
    First left, then right,
    One fingernail at a time,
    Switching sides along the way.

    ‘Cause she also had ab-lumps?
    Like stones she hammered after school.
    Crushing, on a bed, with her weight,
    She tossed about
    First left, then right,
    One tumour at a time,
    Switching sides along the way.

    June 30, 2021
    Poems
  • Straight

    When you ask me
    “Yo, How’s it going?”
    I’m not sure if you’re
    Interested in knowing
    The ten things that
    Are weighting me down
    Or just the one thing
    That makes me sound
    Like someone who’s
    Figured it out.

    When you tell me
    “Yours the life, dude.”
    I don’t know if you
    At all include
    The werewolf curse
    Of phasic depression
    Or the sinusoid of
    Mental compression
    Or the wild obscurus
    Wreaking doubt.

    When you “feel” me,
    “Man, that’s rough.”
    I really really want
    To call your bluff.
    You’d expected
    A simple “All good.”
    Yet I dragged you into
    This droll mood.
    And now you’re looking
    For a walkabout.

    But when you call me,
    “Hey, I need a favour”
    I breathe relief
    Since we don’t waver
    Into small talk that
    Won’t stay small,
    My troubles with yours
    Won’t snowball,
    And it won’t leave us
    Drained throughout.

    So, let’s stick to that.

    June 29, 2021
    Poems
  • What good is writing?

    What good is writing
    When no one gets to read it?
    When it’s not around to help
    Those who really need it?

    What good is writing
    If it’s only for your eyes?
    If your vanity is all
    Your words ever prize?

    If you really want to know
    And truly understand
    What good writing is
    To this very hand
    That pens it on paper,
    Or types it on screen,
    Or when neither’s around
    Sews it to a dream,
    You have to be ready
    To walk in the dark
    And hear that noise,
    That shriek, that bark,
    That calls for release
    From its own pain
    Or else, threatens
    To drive you insane,
    And question yourself,
    If you were me,
    Would you write them down,
    Or let them be?
    And if the former,
    Would you then
    Put someone else
    Through this again?

    June 28, 2021
    Poems
  • Again with Words

    Again I’m up at 3 a.m.
    Again with words in spate.
    Nouns and verbs
    In pretty curves
    Mix and match and mate.

    From where they come
    To where they go
    They tell me not
    Before they flow.
    Up at a stop,
    Down with a start,
    They drive me mad
    As I drive them home.

    Will there be a point?
    Should I seek help?
    Will the little poem
    Just write itself?
    Will it stick to the rules
    Taught in the schools
    Of nuns and buns
    And Jingle bells?

    And what then?
    What will become of it?
    Some legacy for me
    To inherit?
    Some ink to spare
    On pages bare
    And there forever sit?

    It’ll make no money
    And make no friends
    For it holds no value
    And fits no trends.
    But that’s okay.
    That’s just life.
    It need not be great
    Need not be ripe
    For me to love it
    As I love them all:
    My bratty little poems
    As they learn to crawl.

    June 27, 2021
    Poems
  • That which enrages you

    When I ask him what to write next,
    He says: That which enrages you.

    For what enrages one, engages another.

    Maybe, sharing your rage, they’ll raise it.
    Or knowing your pain, erase it.
    Or seeing your fits, laugh silent.
    Or being offended, turn violent.
    Or caring not whichever way
    They’ll say what they always say.

    But you’ll be heard.
    You’ll be read.

    For rage ranks. Rage indexes.
    And it vexes those who feel in excess.

    Know this, always this: Rage rages.
    Go, write that.

    June 26, 2021
    Poems
  • October 31, 2020

    How often does Halloween
    Come on a full moon night?
    And workless werewolves,
    Fired or furloughed,
    Tired of fur loads,
    Save the silvers
    In their costume budget?

    Once in a blue moon, I suppose.

    June 25, 2021
    Poems
  • Break

    You know you need a break when
    Looking at lush, black,
    Sunlight-glowing
    Grapes upon grapes
    Of natural abundance
    In an autumnal-smelling vineyard,
    All you can notice is
    How in a month’s time
    There’d be rotten fruit
    On some factory floor
    That would translate to
    A black bottomline on a spreadsheet.

    June 24, 2021
    Poems
  • Cog

    In a hot pot sitting atop a flame
    I’m so like a lazing frog,
    Clickin’ my tongue to crop a claim
    “I’m such an amazing cog!”

    In a machine that’s rotten
    Its oiling forgotten
    And cogs losing teeth all day.
    Now wheels don’t move
    In the lock-step groove
    That had made me say “Olé!”

    There’s many a job to pay the bills
    And pack this plight away.
    Yet not a one to stay the chills
    That wrack me night and day.

    June 23, 2021
    Poems
  • Joker

    I know you had a bad day, buddy
    Though not so bad as mine
    But I won’t rattle the BS script
    That everythin’ will be fine

    You know as well as I do now
    That this too shall not pass
    It’ll stick around, and gut you too
    This life’s li’l Masterclass

    So, as you raise your head today
    Put on your hotter smile
    For sure you need some warmin’ up
    Your cold blood’s so reptile

    Go out that door and paint it all
    This whole town in your hue
    And stop not in your enterprise
    Till no one’s laughin’ at you

    Till no one’s laughin’ at you
    Till no one’s laughin’ at you

    June 22, 2021
    Poems
  • हमशिकवा

    तुम कलकत्ता के नाती हो
    हम बरहमपुर के पोते हैं
    पर रिश्ते में एक दूजे के हम
    हमशिकवा ही होते हैं

    सोचा था नज़्में घोलेंगे
    लोगों की आँखें खोलेंगे
    शिकवों की तलवारों से
    दुनिया पे धाबा बोलेंगे
    क्यों लिखने के टाइम पे फ़िर
    हम चादर ओढ़ के सोते हैं
    तुम कलकत्ता के नाती हो
    हम बरहमपुर के पोते हैं

    कभी बिरियानी की स्वाद में
    या अंग्रेज़ी अनुवाद में
    फस जाने का बहाना कर
    हम कह देते हैं “बाद में”
    यूँ फुरसत की किनारों पे
    क्यों गंगा में हाथ धोते हैं
    तुम कलकत्ता के नाती हो
    हम बरहमपुर के पोते हैं

    अब वक़्त है कागज़ फाड़ने का
    कुछ शेर नया दहाड़ने का
    “मसरूफ़” नाम के तिनके को
    दाढ़ी से अपने झाड़ने का
    ए वारिस रस्म-ए-नज़्मों की
    चल नया मिसरा फिरोते हैं
    तुम कलकत्ता के नाती हो
    हम बरहमपुर के पोते हैं

    June 21, 2021
    Hindi, Poems
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