Free Verse
Thief...
This guy slipped in when the
maid
had kept the door open for a couple
of minutes—
That was when,
she who opened the door to leave—
came back in to empty the pot
and didn't bother to close—
he surveyed the flat
missing me in the heaps
on the bed—
not surprising...
also
scared of a violent end
I learnt not to moan these days—
He used something at the locks
and opened the three bed rooms
which always remain locked
except when they come for a month
once in a few years—
I never knew what was there
having never been in for the last
so many years...
in fact I don't remember
how these rooms look like
though I spent all my life
repaying the homeloan
I took 55 years ago...
he was getting restless I think
out came thrown an old book
which delivered a photograph
three of them, I guess
couldn't muster courage or strength
to lift my head to see—
must be those lovely kids—
grandchildren of mine still in my eyes...
why did they not give these to me
when I asked I don't know
I think he opens wall units
loft units
were there some trolley-cases?
he comes out open the fridge
slams it shut that it reverberates
for minutes, like I do—
I don't know what he got
he was having a backpack
when he left..
My son,
you are not a thief
I know who the thieves are—
the ones that steal all of you
and took away the something in you
which could sustain you—
you are not a thief...
but, then,
why do you have to do this?
if for anything,
do it for yourself
keep aside a part
for yourself too.
How I wish I could
give something too—
in this house of mine
all I have is this bed of mine
and the food that comes
paid for from the US
after you left
all I could think was
what would happen herafter?
Violence
The air we breathe
Senseless denial
make dread of days to come
refusals continuing
glorified, standardized, made the norm
by social scientists, politicians, all
the few who don't agree are minority...
It was a bloodless violence no physician willing to treat
The chased seen on the scrolls of honor in the lands they fled
to
In the Dow Jones and the ess and pees...
Woo them now
As saviors of the chasers who still
Persist
Keeping the dead alive
Chasing the living
Language stifles...
The air still is full of senseless denial
And of bloodless violence
All the guys
who would have mattered
We sit in the airport at Delhi
Flight to Varnasi dealyed
For uncertain hours
Bomb blast at the Hindu shrines
Ganges now carrying the dismembered.
I did not know, but I am told
Our tickets do not entitle us for
Boarding or lodging
She looks at the children under the signage
For the Cafetaria on the second level
Jumping up and down and asking to be taken there
They are also going to Varanasi
The parents shouting at them to be quiet
The counter clerk gives the kids a cadbury and a coke can
More noise and merriment as they pull at the mother's jacket.
I think of the girl
I refused to marry thirty years ago
As we learnt of her affair with a local youth
We never knew for a fact
She disappeared crying
But never from my lonely moments
May be she would have mattered.
I think of uncle's daughter
Whom my mom refused
Thirty years ago
As her dad did not agree to my
Sister becoming daughter-in-law
May be she would have mattered.
I look now at wife's face
In the stranded airport
On way to Varanasi, to the eternal river, the Ganges,
Looking longingly at the kids
May be she recalls
All the guys who would have mattered.
Together...
Let them be—let
them preach
Leave them alone—to
themselves & their ilk..
Do they see, what we discovered together—
the agony and the bliss—
the breathing and the bash
the heights and the depths
the pain on the breast & the gasp in the heart
Let them be—leave
them to themselves...
They only keep themselves
immaculate and clean
with denials to us of life and living
Let them be—
They love to feed on your deprived flesh
And ask you to close your eyes
And roll on beads of deadwood.
Let them be, to themselves, alone, my darling
Let us leave them & sail together onwards
hand in hand,
explore and delve the depths of the oceans and the seas
together in each other, with each other...
The cell
at the Northern end
he thanked his stars and
asked to go into the future—
he mocked at his astrologer friend
who was doing all numbers
using his fingers and looking at ceiling nooks—
he happily was seeing the future
and his progeny and their wealth
and a young boy who bore a semblance—
went to him to talk but did not
follow the language the kid spoke—
walking past the house
into the garden
he saw an exact copy of self
in a small cell at the
northern end—
looking lost and mumbling to himself
none around him
except a dog at the door—
he just could not get out
of the cell
he entered
and the dog
would not let him
