Zara

Zara

(Love Your Curves)

If you pedal through the passes 

Of Himalayas. Curve after curve 

The mountains unfurl their

Wilderness.

And if you could reach Hanle in

Ladakh and ready for more curves. 

You would find Umling La-

The highest motorable road in the world.

Adorable wilderness.

The bare mountains oozing elgance-

We wish we could cloth them all.

But we can clothe you.

We 'Love Your Curves' too.

Visit the nearest Zara store soon.

Time Traveller

The time traveller moves 

A stone. I wake up in

My New York apartment 

With Ana de Armas 

Asking what I want for 

Breakfast.

The time traveller moves

A chair. En route to 

Colonised Mars.

They ask me to be an

Interim president there.

Hands down. 

No complains.

Time traveller does 

Nothing this time.

He had a chance to do

Something but bored,

Tired, procrastinates

And sleeps.

I end up in misery here.

Broke, ugly, single

And still choking on 

Poems.

The third one is me.

Haven't realised it yet but 

I've travelled to the 

Present of this timeline 

For nothing.

Identifying Hope

When a postman 

Comes in search of an

Address in a war torn

City.

All the Houses grazed

To dust.. Still able 

To find that bombed

House..

Who's the refugee here?

The bodies?

The postman?

The letter? The sender?

Or the flower that's 

Trying to grow battling 

The hopeless silence 

In the rubble?

He keeps the letter 

Under the shadow of

The flower and

Returns.

What better way to

Take cognizance of

A life than delivering 

A letter?

To seek hope when

There's none.

Even if it's ridiculously 

Symbolic..

That act outweighs

Hope itself. Life itself.

The war itself.

Refusal

I refuse to look you in

The eye. I refuse to 

Let my feelings run wild.

Your slender hands and

Gleaming face.

Tiny feet and the way you

Sway when you walk...

I refuse to conjure the

Moon. I refuse to 

Soak my fantasies in 

The blue sky.

I like listening to you.

I like talking to you...

But somehow I refuse

To use the other four

Lettered word for the 

Things I adore in you.

Don't know why falling 

In love with you feels

Like a crime.

Don't know why I think 

Your name would hesitate 

To sit beside mine.

I don't know what 

Holds me back. 

Believe me I've even 

Deliberately tried.

My hesitation to answer 

The question you're.

The mystery you've become 

That I refuse to solve..

Thrusting words to this

Feeling feels like a crime.

Yet you fleet in every 

Act of mine.

I refuse to look you in

The eye. I refuse to 

Let my feelings run wild.

Child Labour

My son is not 14 yet.

He can't work.

Government orders.

He needs free and 

Compulsory education.

Government orders.

Upon that, he can't 

Even work in hazardous 

Industry till he's 18.

Uhh! What a waste.

His contribution could have

Added some Ammonium 

Nitrate to the world..

But alas! We got one

Bomb less because 

Of government orders.

The chaos in the world 

Is threatened by too 

Many takers of peace.

Pussies..!

Better to settle in Africa 

To take advantage of

His small hands.

Might at least be helpful 

In rathole mining of 

Some high-value ores.

His exploits need to

Be capitalized at least 

Over Gold and Diamond.

I mean, if adolescence

Is not wasted on 

Disruptive acts-

The age is dust

Scattered by farts.

Descendence

We were direct descendants
Of Gods. Apple of Brahma's
Eyes and Gospel of Alla's times.

And the Sinned Children of Christ
Inhabiting Holy Mother Earth-
Around which everything revolved.

Then HMS Beagle reached
Galápagos Islands.
Darwin declared us as
Descendants of monkeys.

Such blasphemy to
Make us slaves of our own
Reasonable mind?

We could heal the wounds,
Live longer, and not just walk
But fly on in and out of water.

But how dare we live on our own
Terms now? How dare we
Solve metaphysical problems
On our own?

It was Godly to die en masse
In famines, epidemics, and
Religious wars.

How dare we associate
Ourselves with monkeys and
Fall down to newer highs?

Human Misery

Chengis Khan is credited 

For controlling an eventual

Population explosion as

He killed millions.

Norman Borlaug is blamed 

For the Green Revolution as

He might have saved a billion

From starvation.

The famines and plagues

Have eaten up a good number 

Of people often. To keep the 

Population in check.

And something as simple as

Washing hands with soap

Has doubled life expectancy 

Within no time.

Where should we draw the line?

Who should we categorically 

Blame for the miseries of

Humankind?

The pandemics, disasters.

Modern medicine and the 

Wars that were stopped.

Could we have planned them all?

Should we think at a species 

Level at all or leave it to chance 

To simply eat, mate, reproduce 

Till we're flushed into the

Existential indifference?

Or we should up the game 

To blame someone better?

Like the stars, planets or aliens. 

The spaceships anyway 

Are on their way.

Worship

When I see a flower bud.

I pluck it and put it in water to

Force it bloom within hours-

I've a God to please.

The vibrant petals lose 

The color after some time.

The wilting kicks in.

The petals fall inward.

Turn black and dry out

Into a demise eventually.

Should I be held responsible?

I should be. Said the Lord.

The sheer cruelty of plucking 

A plant's reproductive organs-

Phallus for phallus he said

And hung me by the balls.

He had a target to reach 

Today and I was the last

Sacrifice to his Overlord.

Everyone up the chain is

Interested in phallus to have

Themselves pleased?

Explains a lot phallus worship 

In our traditions.

Seems at one point of time

All worship must have been

Mindlessly throwing around 

One genital at the other.

No wonder why all the 

Religions are a cover-up 

Jobs like fake orgasms.

Brand Poem

Read just the left part
Poem based on company Taglines.

To "Taste the rainbow"                                         ( Skittles)
To "Fly the friendly skies".                                 (United Airlines)
To "Have it your way"--                                     (Burger King)
    
"Think Different"                                                 (Apple)
"Think Big"                                                         (IMAX)
"Think Outside the Bun"                                     (Taco Bell)

"Eat Fresh".                                                         (Subway)
"Belong Anywhere"                                             (Airbnb)
"Everywhere you want to be"                                (Visa)
"Impossible is Nothing"                                     (Adidas)
    
"Live in your world. Play in ours."                     (PlayStation)
"All for Freedom. Freedom for All."                 (Harley Davidson)
"Quality never goes out of style."                     (Levi's)

"Go Further"                                                         (Ford)
"Obey your thirst"                                                 (Sprite)
"Challenge everything"                                     (Electronic Arts)
"Let's go places"                                                 (Toyota)

"We try harder"                                                     (Avis)
"Yes We Can"                                                    (Obama 2008)
"Nothing runs like a Deere"                                 (John Deere)
"Gotta catch 'em all!"                                         (Pokemon)

"Open happiness"                                                 (Coca-Cola)
"Good to the last drop."                                     (Maxwell House)
"Just Do It"                                                         (Nike)
"Because you're worth it" to be in                     (L'OREAL)
"The Happiest Place on Earth".                        (Disneyland)

A Marriage

Like my father puts it.

Maybe I would've joined 

The Air Force.

Married by 25 and had 

Two kids, if not three.

Named them against 

The sensitivities of everyone. 

Beaten them up twice and 

Loved them only thrice.

Life would've taken a 

Backseat that way to fizzle out

In the background of a 

Not so miserable family.

I wouldn't have given

A weighed meaning to

My words and wouldn't 

Have expected too much 

From this life.

Two or three properties to 

Boast. Drinking every night 

To abuse my wife.

Advising others on why 

One should marry early

Would always be on cards.

But nah. I had to take a long 

Academic path.

Grow a knack for overthinking.

Only to sit alone on 

Park bench this morning.

To answer all the imaginary 

Existential questions of 

Marriage instead of facing 

My father upfront. 

Taj Mahal

When Shah Jahan was 

Imprisoned by his own son.

For wasting public money on 

Extravagant architecture..

Held captive in a cell facing 

The Taj Mahal so that he could 

Wither away to death 

Contemplating his creation..

Did the White-Giant diminish 

Into a hateful nothingness 

Or it became a point of 

His pride?

Swooned daily by it's 

Magnificence. The beauty 

Growing louder day by day 

Till he himself became 

The shadow of this very 

Entity he commissioned.

Leaving historians with 

The ultimate question of

Who's bigger?

The dream or dreamer.

Meaning

Five thousand years ago

A bored little girl,

On the banks of Indus 

In the North Western province.

Wrote poetry on slabs

Of stone and threw them

Around.

Meaningless strokes of

Etchings that meant 

Only relief from daily 

Chores.

Millennia later, 

Archaeologists, Historians 

Getting hold of those to

Decipher the meaning.

Reaching consensus over

The assumption that 

They're records of day to

Day transactions.

Why didn't they consider 

The possibility of innocent 

Folly of a bored little girl?

Did we grow so high on

Our own intellect that

We're compelled to give 

Meaning to everything?

Is that why these civilizations

Fall, evolve, and arise?

Maybe yes. If it is yes.

Then it's such a tragic yes.

Next Frame

Right here, this moment.

Under the yellow light.

While chills of December 

Teases our passion..

What would you wanna

Remember from this

Passing time?

The rustle of leaves 

Against passing traffic.

The elasticity of desire

Across our eyes.

The door of my house

That wants to open and 

A hot cup of coffee that 

Wants to be brewed to 

Host you once.

What should we do with 

This hesitant longing 

That makes us stand 

Below my apartment?

If someone should take

A photograph of us now.

You in red chudi and 

Me in yellow-T and jeans..

Years later, if someone 

Should See it and wonder,

Where the next frame

Went?

What should I say?

We ended up together 

Or just turned into 

Familiar strangers?

College Hostel Holi

Holi would begin early in

The morning with some

Asshole splashing 

Colours while you were 

Still in bed.

Then you went to Mess 

For breakfast. You could 

Barely finish it and 

You were mobbed in turns

With colours.

The hostel Garden would 

Be filled with water in

Abundance by 9.30 and

The colours would be

Done with by 10.

Holi in college was proper 

Only when they dumped

You in the mud and kicked

Till every major pore got 

Some dirt.

After many mishaps and

Localised fights.

After cloths were torn

And everyone roamed

In undies for hours...

After the failed human 

Pyramids and smearing 

Of mud on hostel warden's

Bald head and stripping 

Naked the most popular 

Senior..we got to 

The burning of a huge

Caricature of 'Kamanna'

Specifically designed 

Wiith cucumber penis 

And brinjals for balls-

Everyone threw the remains

Of the clothes on that

One tree in the garden.

Seemed our yearly catharsis 

Could only be handled by

A non-animal entity.

Heart is Art

Stabbing is not easy.

And stabbing right in 

The heart is a skilled job,

Needs a lot of practice.

Ribs will come in the way

To begin with.

And kitchen knife is

Not enough to penetrate 

The sternum.

You could go for the

Throat to kill or stab

Randomly on the torso 

To open an artery.

But we're not interested 

In the kill, are we? 

We gotta get through to

The heart. Heart is art.

So when you practice 

The same on the dead bodies 

In the mortuary with a 

Special knife smuggled

From Russia. And then..

You wait for weeks to 

Isolate a victim..

Constantly running a

Simulation of her chest

To thrust the dagger 

Between 4th and 5th rib.

And at the right minute

You don't flinch, and you

Don't blink.

The reminder to yourself 

Of a blunt puncture with

Right force and angle..

Then to draw it back with

Same precision with not a

Sound from her mouth. 

Just the squirt of blood 

Oozing out gushing..

You fancy that sound.

You smile at your art that 

Just assured you the right 

Frequency of life leaving.

Water

Water was always short.

We had to carry it from 

Distances.

My Attya was fierce with 

Her water fetching 

Endeavours.

Two pots. One on head

And the other on the waist.

Distances as long as 2-3 km.

Multiple such trips daily.

She wouldn't let us waste 

An extra mug. 

Bathing daily was such an 

Unheard fad back then.

The first time I could carry 

A big pot on my shoulder.

It was a celebration.

Then I learnt handling 

A bicycle. 

Eight pots in a go was

A luxury. We even 

Constructed our house by 

Fetching water like that.

Then the government 

Put up taps and 

The motors came up.

Now there's abundant 

Supply of water

Without much effort.

Though we overuse,

It feels weird to 

Waste water even now.

Feels her voice from

The Kitchen calls out for

Wasting it.

Water scarcity is function

Of accessibility.

If everyone is made to

Walk a distance to fetch 

Water..

First thing they'd give up

Would be bathing.

Then they'd resume 

Defecation in the open.

Passenger Train

I travelled in the passenger 

Train this morning.

The tightly packed general coach

Teeming with labourers.

Shabby clothes, smell of

Alcohol. Loud desi music.

Many sitting on the floor. 

Reclinerd near the toilets.

A guy sleeping near the door.

A few toppling over him while 

Boarding down. He's not 

Bothered by their cussing.

Two sitting at the door,

Swaying thier legs out.

Taking a fight with whoever 

Is spitting from the window.

Young boys with foul tongues

Laden with lunch boxes.

Headed to earn daily wages.

The system got them 

Before they could grow up.

Every face is almost a mirror.

A guilt-ridden awareness

Keeps reflecting my relative

Eliteness. 

Two college girls in Burkha 

Dare enter this male abode.

But withdraw suddenly as

There wasn't any space.

I was more anxious by their

Advent than they themselves.

Because I know all about 

The male gaze?

Seems rich of me to think 

Something like that.

Who am I to judge their 

Lives anyway?

The train spits us off shortly.

Everyone starts walking.

I see the swaying lunchboxes

In the hands of those boys.

The crumpled ticket I throw 

Falls just beside the dustbin.

My indifference gleams in it 

As I walk off.

Last Day

On the last day.

We unwillingly kissed.

Got naked and 

Entered the shower.

We rinsed each other.

Made love like we're 

Hosting a funeral in 

Ourselves.

The hollow cascade of 

Longing..

The smoke out of

Embers that were dying.

We couldn't look in

The eyes could we?

This repulsion for 

Each other. The sparks

That don't invoke 

Emotions now..

The unloving that feels 

On the skin and under it..

Rather, I feel nothing.

There's something missing.

I say whoever pits love

Against carnal sensations 

Is wrong. Whoever 

Preaches purity is wrong.

It's all messy and dirty.

Imperfect and wild.

And if you don't feel her 

On your skin..

It's not love.

If the blood doesn't rush 

To your head at her 

Instance and if the veins 

Don't bulge...and if you 

Don't get a mild erection 

Whenever she crosses

Your mind..

It's not love. Atleast,

It's not love enough.

The Almighty Lord

Before he had any name.

Before he became

Predominantly male.

He was formless. 

He was nature once.

Then a mountain, a hill.

A stone worshiped on

Field or street.

The erstwhile omnipotent 

Omnipresent, omniscient.

Now divided, shred and 

Shrunk into certain-

Holy books, walls, domes

Tribes and religions.

When did he became 

Absolutely parochial?

The poor must wait in line 

For the darshan while 

The rich can bribe their

Way into sacrosanct?

Menstruating women

And widows are declared 

Impure too along with 

Some other castes?

The growing distance from 

The truth that he himself 

Was supposed to preach. 

Our God. The Almighty Lord...

Then infinite. There after

Limitless, unbound and

Now barely independent.

Who's gonna believe him?

But everyone does.

Now more fiercely than ever.

The supposed redemption 

To closeted bigotry-

What a downfall.