Month: July 2022

It’s dangerous to tell someone,
“You are okay the way you are,”
Especially around the time
They’re bleeding through reopened scars.

Of course, they aren’t okay then.
And if they are, it’s bloody grim.
“If this is it, I’m kinda shit.
I’m worse than you. I’m worse than him.”

The thing they really need to hear,
“You’ve got a lengthy way to go.
So better crawl some baby steps
If spine will take some time to grow.”

Of course, they’ll curse your arrogance,
And call you names – “Insensitive!” –
But deep inside they know you’re right,
They know this ain’t the way to live.

It takes a little longer, yes.
And always longer than you think.
Despite the buffers in your plans.
With life. With love. With everything.

It takes a little patience then.
A little willingness to flow.
An effortless alacrity
To steer, to stop, or let it go.

It may be late, but not too much
To ask forgiveness for your sin.
It may not heal the wound, but still
Prevent infection setting in.

It may be late, but not too much
To fight for what your love had earned.
It may not bring it back, but still
It’s good to have your spine returned.

It may be late, but not too much
To give away your excess hoard.
It may not purchase peace, but still
A night of sleep it may afford.

It may be late, but not too much
To be yourself before someone.
It may not burn your mask, but still
The tan will prove you faced the sun.

It may be late, but not too much
To love despite the chances lost.
It may not fill your life, but still
The holes will lose their years of frost.

Be sure with whom and where you walk,
For walks can make you fall in love.
The longer ones that feel too short.
The shorter ones you drag too long.
The ones through peaceful tree-lined lanes.
The ones through shady tunnel space.
The ones with water-bottle bags.
The ones with stifling Covid gags.
The ones you almost do not start.
The ones you walk few feet apart.
The ones that start with awkward feet.
The ones that sync into a beat.

Through all my years of lighted nights,
With bulbs, and lamps, and candle flames,
I wasted all my gifts of sight
On seeing who complains, who blames.

It took a year of darkened days
Despite the moon, the stars, the sun,
To see the light in wetting eyes
Which looked at me like I’m the One.

There’s nothing much for me to write,
Except to cite my quiet delight
In having got the one I sought,
The one I hope will tie the knot.

There’s nothing much for me to say,
Except to pray, array the way
To train again my love inane
To stick, remain, come joy or pain.

A man I am of many lies:
Some litchi whites, some amla grays,
Some kaala-khatta twilight skies,
But mostly blurred like Saturdays.

A man I am of many truths:
Some whole, some floured, some multigrained,
Some chakki-pressed like working youths,
But mostly kneaded like a friend.

It’s easy in the face of death
To find the strength to counterstrike.
It’s easy with your back to wall
To push against the angry tide.
It’s easy with your final chip
To gamble all you’ve ever held.
On every step until then, though
It’s easy to be overwhelmed.

My migraine asks the Chicken why
The Walrus crossed the Rubicon.
“To meet the Carpenter,” replies
The Romaine lettuce Brutus knifed
Into the Caesar’s salad bowl.
“But kings partake of cabbages,”
The chicken’s noting from the coup,
Forgetting once the falling sky,
The mistranslated Carpenter
Is propping on his Cross to bear.
The red sea pumping to my head
Is splitting down the middle path
The OG listicler had shown
To faithful friends and sociopaths.

The dogs were first to raise alarm,
To chase the thieves in Covid masks,
To bite into their denim calves,
And make them drop their duffel bags.

The drunks were second on the scene.
They found in groaning, bleeding men
Release of stresses bottled up
And so they kicked, and fell, and kicked.

The bikers parked their bikes on road,
Blockading all the escape routes.
With helmet-visored confidence,
They tapped the road rage in reserve.

The passers-by turned standers-by.
The gamers switched to vlogger mode.
The elderly with saffron tongues
Took bets on when the cops would show.

Police arrived within the hour
With ambulances in the tow.
The thieves confessed with eagerness,
Revealed they bagged some two-three crores.

The cops then questioned witnesses
For where they saw the duffel bags,
And only answer they received
Was “Sorry, sir. I did not mark.”