Friday, December 29, 2017

O henry

At first you think
It's a witty twist

And on second reading
The tenderness
Of the witty end
Shocks you

And then you read the simple,
Light hearted, gently mocking lines
Again and again and again
Until the tenderness overwhelms you
Seeps in and lives in you
And you end up gently sobbing
Every time you read it again
(For you end up reading it
Every time you come across it)

Safe

Like the birds
Come back to their trees at dusk

My stories flew home to you

They had found the only place
Where they were safe

Friday, December 22, 2017

Face palm

Mr Weston had an umbrella too, and offered me the benefit of its shelter, for it was raining heavily.
'No, thank you, I don't mind the rain,' I said. I always lacked common sense when taken by surprise.

- Agnes Grey

Sunday, December 17, 2017

I used to think

Love was the answer

But as time passed i see
People married to their loves
Struggle every day
Emotionally and spiritually
In their mid thirties

Friday, December 15, 2017

Impressions

Realizing that the world around her
Does not share the sense of wonder
For the same things as she djd

Tracing her sense of wonder
Back to some long childhood conversations
That had left strong and deep impressions
That remain with her even after
She had been hating him for many years

She thought she had cast him off but
How do you cast off an entire world of wonder
Who would she be without them?
What leads her out of my tunnel,
What gives her purpose, without them?

Violated

He had taken what he could from her
But he didn't get what he wanted

A little good morning kiss on the cheek
A note telling him to take care
Long, langurous cuddles on lazy days
A rainy day spent with a mug of coffee
Confidences, whispered into ears
A lingering hug of goodbye

Giving these little signs of affection
Was how she collected
The pieces of her shattered soul
Asserted some modicum of control
Was proud of having reserved
At least some things she could give
Of her own free will

Little things we seek

How to cover up each other's stories
When in public
How to finish each other's sentences
How to say for her what she wouldn't know
How to say herself
How to listen patiently, as a team, to a bore
When you would rather talk to each other
Because you know that you will
Talk to each other to your heart's content anyway,
After all this is over
How to order for each other
How to avoid minefields
What to cook when she is low
When to give space and when to crowd in

Its the little things you seek
In a lover, and dont find

Don't we all seek
The safety of our primary intimacies...

I thought

I was doing a good job
Of erasing your memories
No trace of you
On my timeline
In my busy schedule

Until you popped up
In my dreams
And made a home there

I never asked

I just assumed
You didn't need me any more

That was how it seemed
When i stopped being
Your first port of call

And now that we have drifted
So far apart
I have perhaps lost the way back
And can only watch from afar
As you seem to flounder

Monday, December 11, 2017

Maybe

Maybe the key is
To not expect anything
Out of life
To control your mind
And our desires
And that shit

And just get on with your duties
Then there would no pain,
No disappointment

But then
What would be the point

Thursday, December 7, 2017

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Abstinence

Telling myself
The little glimpses into your life
Didn't really mean anything
Didn't really lift my soul

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Any more

Not that i miss you, exactly

Only that your absence
Makes the avalanche of
Unfortunate events

That much harder to handle

Stages

Yours is the kind of loneliness
That you don't even know exists
That you don't understand yourself
That you don't Acknowledge

But i understand it
When i see it in you
Because it was mine before

The kind of loneliness
That you don't know is there
Until it is cured
That you wait all your life
To be filled
But you don't know
What you are waiting for

Yours is the kind of loneliness
That leads you by a thread
To someone
And you don't even know
What you were following
How you ended up there

Yours is the kond of loneliness
Very different from
This knowing void of mine
That knows exactly what is missing

And that is exactly why
They wont fit together

Your heart is full of longing
And mine, of loss

Yours is the kind of loneliness
That needs something
As young and innocent
And hopeful as itself
To be fulfilled

All i ask for

It is so easy
To drift into anger
To lash out,
Kmowing that i can.
And to walk away
After hurting you

All i ask for
At the end of the day
Is a little more strength
To make the effort
To be kind
To the people who will
Always matter

I just want five minutes
Of kindness that i can give you
That will last you all day

Sunday, December 3, 2017

X privilege

Nothing as humiliating
As being reminded of your privilege
By someone who struggles
For the things you take for granted

(For him, it's not just a job)

#moments when i want to
Dig a hole in the ground
And crawl inside

Monday, November 13, 2017

Hope

Judging others for having
Romantic dreams
Coming too late to the realization
That life is difficult,
That it's not as you imagined

(Harboring a small amount of hope,
Nonetheless,
That life will turn out as you imagined)

Friday, November 10, 2017

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Note to self

Remember to

Look at the mirror every day
And be careful not to become
As the one you claim to loathe

Adulting

When you
Stop thinking of children as
Complex little humans
Full of innocence
But also mischief, curiosity
Anger, jealousy, intensity
Evil, scheming, cruelty
And unaware of the impacts
Of so much of it

And start processing them as
Stereotyped cute  beings

Am i on the other side of
The fence now?
Did it take too long?
Or not long enough?
Or the wrong turn entirely?
Should i have resisted more?

exhausting

people who don't speak
until you speak
and when you start speaking
they repeat what you say,
overlapping every sentence
and you don't know whether
to complete your sentence
or wait for them to complete
their parroting

people belike
two cassette players
on at the same time

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

As in life

In my dreams

Big, fast cars whiz by me
Overtaking, bullying, speeding
Almoat touching my fragile cycle
Leaving me shaken and shocked

That moment when

Endorphins were flying in the air
Thick enough to swim through

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Overload faces

That phase of live when
Every new person you see
Reminds you of someone
Youhave already me

And you realize that
The suitcase of memories
Is full and
You need to remove some things
To make space for new ones

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Withdrawal

Like the memory of every sad thing
Every time you were stressed
Cried, were depressed
Agitated and felt caged
Came back at once

And the body has no way
Of producing new endorphins
To combat any of it

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Monday, October 23, 2017

Mesmerized

The decadent colors of fall
Seem even more lush
Iridescent and magical
From your eyes

More so now that i fear
It may be a pleasure
Too guilty to indulge

Saturday, October 21, 2017

Friday, October 20, 2017

Lavish

It was as if a rushing river had routed itself through my house, which was pervaded now by a freshwater scent and the awareness of something lavish, natural, and breathtaking always moving nearby.

- Lincoln in the bardo

Monday, October 16, 2017

How to barren

Have a smile on your face
At all times

Do not rise to any bait
Of insult, sarcasm and likewise
And when you answer,
Remember to keep it neutral
Not necessarily your clothes and makeup
But your tone and expressions
No matter what inferno
Is raging inside

In other words,
Fix your face
Before you turn around
To face anyone else
Make sure none of the anger
And resentment
That you are free to indulge
In privacy
is seeping out of
The corner of your eyes
Or the tilt of your lips

Fix your voice,
Lower the high pitch
That screams frustration
Modulate the volume
Take off the sharp edges
That hint at derision

And then apply the same to your mind

If you had time,
You could watch the bubbles of thought
Form and burst in your mind,
Without reacting
But for now, simply
Focus on the task at hand
List them out, not just in a pad
But also in your mind
Get to them, one by one
And don't think of anything else
Before you finish
(And with good planning,
you don't finish before the day finishes)

When someone wants to
Switch your list around
Or just batter it altogether
And give you a new one
Let them, because
Life is short and
You have to choose your battles
With care
And this battle is not yours
(Nor is any other)

And if you are good at it
Your list will be so long
That you will have no time
For anything else
(If you do find time,
You will make yourself
A cup of the best masala tea,
And not do anything else,
Guaranteed)
But still if you do find time,
Fix all those thoughts
Put them over, under,
Outside the boundaries
Of your list of tasks
Which is the only thing
You should have time for

So that you will fall
Into a deep sleep
The moment your head
Touches the pilllow

In some higher beings
Capable of much sacrifice
Or generosity of spirit
This could be called grace

But in an ordinary mortal
This is just the way to a heart
Barren as desert

Kathmandu

All the peeping
Back  biting
Boundary overstepping
And stuffiness
Of a small,
Tight knit community

And none of its warmth

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Except

That time of life when
Everyone you ever loved
Cones back into the fold

Except the one you want

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

The one you don't get over

That thing they say
About your happiness
Not depending on one person
And about putting it behind
Getting on with youur life
Living it to the fullest
And happiness and fulfillment
Will come to you

The thing they say
That i live by
Or used to

That thing they say
Just does not apply
To the one person
You meet only once in a lifetime
Who sparks stars in your soul

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Nothing in between

That severe kind of beauty
In a woman
That either makes it
To the top of the world
On a ramp
Or languishes
As the least popular,
Defeated place
On the rung

Friday, September 29, 2017

If you will let me

If you will let me be brave
I will make a confession

Suffering lovers

Lovers find their way by insights and confidences. They're the stars we use to navigate our ocean of desire. And the brightest of these stars are the heartbreaks and sorrows. The most precious gift you can give to your lover is your suffering.
- shantaram

Challenge, Accepted

There is, sometimes,
A little bit of teasing
In the things he says
That could be seen as
A whole lot of love,
Lying in shadow,
Wanting to play
Or as a little bit of challenge,
Waiting to bait

She will always, always
Choose to notice the challenge
And respond only to it
For her blood flows too quick

She wishes it was otherwise

Especially after she realizes
What a lot of love she has missed

But she knows
That it will never be otherwise
Even if she was given a chance
To do it all over again

Thursday, September 28, 2017

The happiest moments

Take me so deep into
My own sadness
That my face makes you wonder
If i am even happy at all
But i assure you, i am
And only with you
Who can take me there

The day my heart was broken

My monthly horoscope said
Was an excellent month for love

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Horoscope today

He's going to be charming
Go ahead and fall for it
(Because, it is the most
Lovely moment in your life)

Then he is going to
Break your heart.
Be prepapred for it
(But go ahead and
Fall for it all the same.
Because it is still
The loveliest moment in you life
And despite the heartbreak
You would rather remember it
Than not)

Monday, September 25, 2017

Cure

Some feelings sink so deep into the heart
That only loneliness can help you find them again
Some truths about yourself are so painful
That only shame can help you live with them

- shantaram

Sunday, September 24, 2017

Truth, extempore

I love you, he said
And that is
The only truth i know
At the moment

That was why it was true
And that was why
It did not last forever

High expectations

She didn't imagine
That it could go wrong

After all,
He had gone down
On both knees

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Pursuit of inmortality

You must write my dear,
Says he,
Wishing me the best on dashain,
You must be creative,
For that is the only thing
That remains when we are gone

Born among men who pursue
Fame and immortality, am i

And i think of the men and women
Who, having no such dreams
(And cannot even have
Delusions to such grandeur),
Pursue fleeting moments
The only thing they can pursue

Wealth belongs to the king
And life belongs to death
They sing,
And only love,
Belongs to you and me

Ingredients

Just how much sugar
Does a cup of tea need?
If i put one grain more
Is it going to be cloying?
But if i put one teaspoon less
It will surely be blanf

Just how much butter in a cake?

Just how many brush strokes
In a painting of a bird
Will make it look like a bird?
If there is one brush stroke less
Is it going to be any less realistic?
Or three or four?
And when does it cease to be a bird
And is a collection of random strokes?

And what about the curlicues
On the dress i like?
What if they had been
Grapevines instead of orchids
Apples instead of mangoes
Paisleys instead of kalash
With the same amount of
Black and white
Would i notice the difference?
Would i like it all the same?

And i often wonder
What makes me me
What makes you you
And if there was just a little bit
More or less of this or that
If we would be the same

Saturday, September 16, 2017

Life spiral

And so the first generation
Will strive for money
Respect, fame, security
Everything to raise themselves
From the doldrums
Everything the world praises

And so the second will see how
They forgot to enjoy life
In the pursuit
And try to inject
More and more enjoyment
Into the life of hardships
Dictated by their ancestors

And so the third generation
Born into luxury
Questions the need for hard work at all
Wonder why their predecessors
Feel so guilty about a little indulgement
And giving in wholly to hedonism
Degenrates into uselessness

The right path

It was all about curing his loneliness,
Of course,
Everything he did in his life

But he assumed life would take care of it
If he took the right path
If he did exactly as he was told,
As he was supposed to do

But he wouldn't admit that
It was about his loneliness
He made the world believe that
It was about his grand intention
To do the right things
By everyone

And so this earnest man
Spent his life in duty
Never taking a break
Never enjoying himself
Assuming life would reward him
For his path of righteousness

Reward him it did,
But not in the way he expected

He surpassed the expectations
Of those who told him what to do

And now he resents
That life did not reward him
With love

Walking over eggshells

Wondering if he will think her clingy
For calling too much
Or indifferent for calling too little

#how do people make it seem so easy

Light

As if you face
is the other end
of the infernal tunnel

Of the fog of confusion
and mess that surrounds me

The moment that was

How can a moment
Last eternity

And instead of fading
With every rememberance
Yields deeper and newer meanings

Pre-emptive

And so that she would not
Appear too eager
Or not be too disappointed
If she was rejected

She would always ask the men
About movies she had already seen
Events she had already been to

So that there would be no question
Of her being disappointed
If he never wanted to see it with her

Lost sights

Ripples of rice fields
Swaying in the wind
Alĺuring glimpses
Of lush rivers and valleys

It wud take me months to walk

And now it takes barely two days
As hills as wide as countries
Flash in and out of my vision
In a matter of hours

It was not meant to be this way

The awe i would have felt
Upon finally arriving
At a lake shrouded in mystery
At the holy home of a fabled goddess
On top of a difficult mountain

After drinking in the flowers,
The trees, the grass,
The sounds, the sights,
The healing herbs and wild fruits,
The songs, the stories, the people
The blue sky, lit up from an unlit ground
And the very air of the rarest kind

Was not meant to be diluted
By photographs
Videos
And hurried sightseeing through
Tinted windows

Elephant in the room

We keep things hidden
Assuming the worst
If we let them out

Only to be proved wrong
If and when we choose
To express

Whatever happens
May not always be pleasant
But is almost always
An improvement

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Sly

That nice way some people have
Of asking seemingly simple
Or even well intentioned questions
For a hidden purpose
Of gathering information
To furnish plots and conspiracies
That have devastating ends

I know i can never hope
To master that skill

But will i,
In this lifetime,
Learn to ever recognize it,
At least?
Or is even that
Too much to hope for?

Generation angst

If i could be born today
As the daughter of my generation
How much fun would i have
Born to technology
Born to travels
I would be smart and confident and
Navigate this world with ease
Unfettered by the concerns
Of a dead worldview

Or if i was born much earlier
In the age of explorers and pioneers
When the world still had
Much to explore and pioneer
How much more productive
I could have been

Instead of being born
At the worst possible time
When i can do neither

The shifting floor beneath

Back when i was little and i didnt know
How you were supposed to eat bread and jam,
She reminisces,
Maybe you are supposed to dip the bread in jam,
I thought
And then i learnt,
By watching people spread the jam on the bread
At a picnic

And so they learnt the ways
Of the changing world
Bit by bit
Learning not just the material
But the emotional and spiritual things
That we so take for granted today
That you should not open
Someone else's birthday presents,
For example,
Or letters or greeting cards
And that book and movie endings are sacred,
To be closely guarded and
Not to be revealed casually

We learnt along with them,
The ways of this fast spreading world
But we learnt when we were young
And had our whole lives ahead of us
To make use of the learning
To take that learning for granted
To take it for the base of our world
And to make leaps from that base

While they felt constantly behind
Constantly flummoxed
Constantly trying to catch up
And never succeding
And becoming simply tired

And so she always was unsure
Unsure of how to step
Unsure if she should hold on to
The beliefs that her roots gave her
Or let go of them, and if so, how
Apprehensive that her attachment
To her roots, that she cannot explain
That seem to have no logic behind them
Will be mocked as superstition, gaucheness

Why mustn't we cut our nails at night, mamma?
Why should we not enter the house after shower
With our wet hair in a bun?
Why should we greet some people with folded hands,
Some people with forehead on their feet,
And yet some others with an obeisance
To the floor in front of them, hands fisted?
Why can you eat wheat bread and jaggery
But not rice on your fast day?
Why can you use the same serving spoon
For everything but the rice?
Why can't you use soap and must
Drape yourself in rags when
You are mourning a close one?

She defends it at times,
With an appeal to morals or common sense
She explains it away at other times
As primitive logic of an uneducated people
Who did not think for the future
She is unable to hold on to them
In the face of the onslaught of
Modern logic, most times
But is still scared to let go
Of the only thing she knows
And trade it  for the unknown,
Associated with moral decreptitude

And finally, she is envious
Of the moral, spiritual and practical compass
Of her foremothers
Which always, surely, pointed home
(Not envious of their lives per se,
Only of the certainty with which they lived it)

She makes compromises they never did
She says we can do as we please
And enter the kitchen when we are bleeding
That is, after she is gone
And even now she lets me sit
On the same room, the same carpet
The same bed and sofa as the men
Even when im bleeding.
She protests, in a voice she knows
Will be ignored at best
And derided at worst
That we leave no clean space in the house
(Clean as in ritually, spiritually clean.
No, she doesn't have to deal with
Physical uncleanness)
But she does give away ground
(Or is forced to)
Sometimes slowly, by inches
And nowadays more and more suddenly
(Those foremothers in her memory
Would have skinned me alive
For suggesting it)

And for this and many others compromises
She feels compromised
Her spirit constantly beaten
Until she learns to underestimate
Everything she knew

And she feels torn,
Between her mothers and daughters
(Both equally demanding)

She thinks we live our lives
With the same certainty
As her mothers
Feet firmly on the grounds of the reality
That had shifted beneath her

Maybe we do
Maybe we do stand on the shifting floor
More firmly than she ever did or will
And even though the floor still shifts
We know we will take it in our stride

But still we are as torn as her
Torn between our loyalty
To our newly found brains and voice
And the old loyalty to her
We would like to go
Where the new world takes us
Where our newfound thoughts
And dreams point us
We would like to be unfettered
By rules we do  not understand
But even more than this
We would like you to be happy
We would like you to have your dignity
To be respected at home
For after all it is your home too,
More so than mine

Growing up, it was a victory
To win these arguments by logic
But grown up i see
That then, i had not paused
To examine your life
(That i now know
Is the life i am expected to lead)
And when i do examine your life
I realize that it is no fun
To win those arguments

In fact, it is lose lose on every side
Your dignity versus my liberty

And so i clip my wings
A little bit every day
To compensate for wounding you
Exasperating you, walling you in
All those years

And I'm not even sure if you notice

For there are days when i still rail
Days when i refuse to cede more ground
Days when i realize that the cycle repeats
And yours is the life i am supposed lead now

And i know i have not
Your strength and perseverance
To live and laugh within that life
And so i rail one more time
To make that future easier for myself

A lose-lose everyday it is,
The battle of your dignity
Versus my liberty

At peace

Anyone else would have
Called me reckless
Or careless at the very least

And in your words i saw
That i was simply at ease
With myself and the world

Unburdened of what did not concern me
Accounting of the bare minimum
Necessary in every situation

I was simply trying
To etch out a little bit of freedom
In a world full of cares that bind

But i believed in it
In the way i wanted to see myself
Only when you said so

Eye contact

After hours of feeling
Antsy and fidgety in the lounge
She entered the room
Walked in hesitantly
Looking anywhere but at him
Acknowledging his offer to sit
With a glance towards
The crook of his elbow

Throughout their conversation
She got to know
The intimate details of
The whorls of wood
On the table between them
And every contour of her own nails
Which she knew very well anyways

And after she was done
Giving earnest answers
To the bookcase behind him
He wouldn't say she could go

She waited
And he seemed to wait as well
And when the wait gre unbearable
She looked at him

"When you talk to someone"
He said
"Look at their face"

(After which she developed a manner
Of looking people straight in the eye
- the very centre of the iris, exactly-
And disconcerting them within five seconds.

But that is a story for another day)

Thursday, August 17, 2017

(Melo) Dramatic

When the golden red leaves of autumn
Fall around me
Tears spring to my eyes unexpectedly
I cannot take in so much
Beauty at once
Words catch at my throat as i wonder
If this is going to be the moment
I remember all my life

It's not though
Life catches tou unawares,
Without so much drama
And the moments you remember
Are ones you are not
Forewarned of

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Mothers

We try lifelong
to emulate their grace
(seemingly effortless)

and still not reach
within an inch of it

My songs

And then I listen to it again
Again and again

Until I know every place
The lady in the background slips
Every place she tries to
Make up the words as she goes along
Every place she tries to rhyme
and fails

It's all the more beautiful
For being unpractised

(By the way I know by heart
every rise and fall
of the main singer's voice)

I wish I was that selfless

They say love is
making your loved one happy

They say love is
not about possession

I wish I was that selfless

My love is all about
Your presence in my life

Saturday, August 5, 2017

And when she wakes up

In the morning
She will want to talk,
Always
To recount her dreams
To plan her day
To be asked if her silence
Is from nightnares
To have her dreamy eyes acknowledged
Her wandering hands rested
Her tremble comforted
And she will want, most of all
To hear from him

Sometimes
She is met with the same enthusiasm

Sometimes, with an indifference
That she will work hard to overlook
While seeming nonchalant about it
(Because he cannot know that she cares)

And sometimes,
She is met with a mobile phone
And she is still
Trying to learnt the etiquette of
Whether it's ok
To take it away and demand attention
Whether she should ask to be a part of it
Or whether she should go about her day
As if nothing unusual happened

A face that

At first glance
You might pass it up
As nothing of note
But one that
You come back to
Again and again
Because
It had no flaws
To note

I trade

In tales

Thursday, July 20, 2017

पूरा सपना

बाल्यकालमै भनौं एउटी केटीले
आँखाबाट झरेको परेली टिपेर
कलिलो मनको एउटै मात्रै
ईच्छाको भारी त्यसलाई बोकाएर
फू गरेर उडाइदिएकी थिई

आकांक्षाहरु भारी भएता पनि
उसको मन शायद चंगा थियो
र त्यो परेली उड्दै गएर
उसको अभिष्ट पूरा गरेरै छोड्यो

तर केटीलाई के थाहा
पूरा भएको एउटा लालसाले
उसको जिन्दगी अधुरो बनाउनेछ

किनकी त्यो उसको सपना मात्रै थिएन
दुइ हात जोडेर नतमस्तक भएर
उसले मागेकी थिइ एउटा वरदान
संसारका सबै शक्तिहरुसँग
र राखेकी थिई एउटा शर्त
यति पूरा भएमा जिन्दगीमा
अरु केही माग्ने छैन

उसलाई के थाहा जिन्दगीमा
त्यस्ता अभिलाषा त कति आउँछन्

कति त यति बलवान हुन्छन् नि
ती ईच्छा मात्रै भनिंदैनन्,
भाग्यरेखा झैं  बनेर उसलाई डोर्याउँछन् ।
कुनै अनजान समुद्रको आँधीले
उसलाई उचाालेर पछारिरहँदा
उ कामना गर्नेछे एउटा त्यान्द्रोको
जसलाई समातेर उ किनारा लाग्न सकोस्।

तर त्यो प्रबल जिजिविषालाई जोगाउन
अब उ माग्न सक्दिन कुनै शक्तिसँग केही

किनकी जिन्दगीको
आदि अन्त्य त्यसैलाई ठानेर
उसले आफ्नो पहिलो वरदान
मागिसकेकी छे
र पूरा भएको त्यही याचना नै
उसको अन्तिम हुनेछ

र अब उसले पुकारा गर्ने
कुनै देउता पनि त बाँकी छैन

Monday, July 17, 2017

She followed

She followed a man here
Into this desolate place
She followed a man here
And then she lost him

A man who perhaps knows
That she followed

Perhaps she is a little
More than slightly mad
To follow a man here
Who forgot about her

But then
She followed a poet here
And poetry floods her life
In this desolate place
That she followed him to

we

when they received
a birthday gift

for either one
(months apart)
they thanked their givers
as a unit
"we have never had
something so pretty"
in vain the giver will
try to convince them
that the gift is for
one person to enjoy alone,
they had pooled
their resources forever,
and now took each other's
permission at every occasion

I stay,

They dance in a rhythm
That the body knows as if on its own
Because it is so easy to learn,
So intuitive
And they dance it slow, slow
So slow that it is not even a dance
Nobody would want to watch it on stage
But they don't care who is watching
They dance for the rhythm
Letting the body feel it and sway with it
They dance for the company
Linking their arms with the next person
And they dance it slow
Becaue they don't want to be tired
Even after hours of dancing
Gaining reassurance 
Of their place in the world
As the night draws to a close
Gaining a love that will
For ever after run in their veins
And most importantly,
Gaining roots
Which there is no other way to gain

And they sing songs
Songs that say everything there is to say
not a word out of place
and not a feeling missed
perfected from generations of practice
encapsulating all the wisdom
all the guidance
you might need at any point in life
all the love
you believe you are
the only person to discover
all the sorrow
that life surprises you with
all the perspective
to deal with it

I shiver

it is the only time i feel alive

and then i cry silent tears
because we are losing it all
first of all,
losing the emotional intensity
that waits for these songs
that draws from these songs
to last all year
we don't need it any more
we have other things to occupy us
entertain and guide us
and that is everything
that we lose

Why did i never hear before
A song that says
That when you plant a short sheaf of rice
It grows to look like a horse's tail
And then it grows as yellow
As the gold ring in your nose
When did i stop needing
To know how beautifully
My food grows
How come my heart
Was never clenched
By how goddesses too felt sad
To leave their mother's home
How come i never asked my sister
How we would meet this year
And how many children she had 
After we last met
And tell her how much i care for her,
Enough to give up my child for her

How come i never ever heard these songs?

And then i cry because
It might be the last time i hear it

Any time i hear one of these songs
Is the last time it might be heard on earth


Saturday, July 15, 2017

preoccupations

the redeeming power of love
the dread at small talk
the struggle with communication,
especially professional
the coming to terms with grief
the concern that i do it to soon
the barrier around secrets
the resentment at limitations

just a few of my preoccupations
that i think are newly discovered
every day

but looking back at my poems
show they have been here forever
and are perhaps at my core

You were enough

Now I look back and see that
I wrote so little
when you were beside me

And even those
were of not much
quality, intensity
or even length

Another proof
That I didn't need anything
Not even the vent of poetry
When I had you

battle of

we always find ways
to make it a battle of
us against the world

the lonely versus the families
the queers versus the cisgenders
the islanders versus the mainlanders
the rootless versus the rooted

and I who am so comfortable ensconed
in everything the world has to offer
also find a way to say
me versus the patriarchy

and those lucky few who are
at the top of the pyramid
will find ways to invert it all
and wow us to boot with
the sad drunk versus the unfeeling world

the poet

he wears his youth
like an armor
something that protects
his worn, wizened within
that he will not
allow to be seen

only his eyes
speak of his weariness

the writer

old, yet young
tender, yet formidable
the delicacy of her features
offset by the surety
of her gaze

unsettled
and unsettling
never finding satisfaction
in any man, woman,
thing, emotion
that comes her way

making everyone else
feel like cowards
for giving in to
complacency
mediocrity
easy soft pillows of
love and affection

feared for doing so
and yet, loved, too,
for the same

If i could un know some things

Warning :
Graphic and violent

I would un know first of all
The little boy who had
Acquired some puppies
Was not allowed to keep them
And so volunteered to
Dispose of them himself
Tied it to the end of a rope
And wailed as he pulled it

I would un know
His excitement as he got the puppies
And then his disappointment
And then his self inflicted torture
And then the fact that he had
No grown up who loved him enough
To do it for him,
Or attempt to shield him
From so much trauma

And then i would un know
The realization that this was
Just a regular day for him
And his life bereft of affection
Held horrors far greater

And finally i would forget for ever
That his world lives besides mine
And the two worlds never intersect
Unless i choose to
(Which i usually don't)
And that he and scores
no, hundreds,
no, thousands
ok, innumerable
people walk around with
stones for hearts
weighed down by terrible memories
that they will never speak of
being unused to affection

If i could un know all of this
I wouldn't have to make the effort
Of masking overlooking whitewashing

How peaceful i would be then

Wanderlust

I would like to write
Of what is within me
Yet i seem to seek
Constant stimulations
From outside
To set the tinder alight

One wish

If i could have one wish,
Just one,
I would wish for easy deaths
For me and the few people i love

Reading arundhati roy

The unkempt woman
Messy hair, unflattering clothes
Wears no makeup,
Couldn't care less
Smokes beedi and drinks local
Exceptionally foul mouthed
Scorns male attention because
She is focused  on her work
On behalf of the disadvantaged
Ageing and yet attractive
To the point of obsessing 
Multiple men for life

Does she even exist in real life?
Or am i foolish even to ask that
From a work declared to be fictional?

Somehow she makes me feel like
My life ks worthless
If i cannot be any of it

Despite that i find her highly attractive
And admirable and would fall for her
But i am not the normal man
Of the subcontinent
(Or even the world, for that matter)

Such men do exist in real life though,
Where they are as mythologized
As in the writer's imagination

But it will take centuries
Of such autobiographical
(Or so it seems)
Projection by women writers
(Men too, project the strong
Idealistic and committed heroine
But they are pretty and not ageing)
For the idea to really catch on
In real life, i think

I would applaud it when it happens
The sooner the better,
So that i too can shave my head and
Let my eyebrow grow and
Still be considered attractive 
But i don't think it is happening
In my lifetime at least

Thursday, July 13, 2017

A certain kind of man

That feels victorious
Only when he has defeated
City women
(The prettier thr better)

He needs to defeat everyone,
Of course,
Whether in argument or in decisions
And cannot stand
Any woman with a voice
But singles out city women
For particular harassment

The kind of man that
Aspires to be alpha
But takes only its aggression
Ignoring that it is
As much kindness and
Consideration

#two in twenty, im guessing
#enough to make life hell

A song sung

Ever familiar words
Come alive
And show you
What they really mean
And what they can achieve

#turning an advocate of free verse
Into a lover of lyrics
#upending a disbeliever's faith

#chapala abala

Saturday, July 8, 2017

आमाको कृष्णचरित्र



बाह्र वर्ष भयो दिदी भेट नभया
तम दिदी कति पुत छन
दिदी
तम दिदी कति पुत छन

पहिलीको पुत मेरो सूर्य कि ज्योती
मारदियो कनिस पापीले
बुदी
मारदियो कनिस पापीले

यो कथा नयाँ होइन
थुप्रै किताबमा लेखिएको छ
उनका सात छोरा कसरी मारिए भनेर
त्यो गल्लीमा हिंड्ने बच्चा बच्चालाई थाहा छ

तर कुनै किताबमा तिमीले पाउनेछैनौ
आमाको वेदनाको गीत
र आठौं सन्तानलाई बचाउनका लागि
बहिनीसंग मिलेर दिदीले गरेको उद्यम

आमाहरु जब गीत गाउन थाल्छन्
उनीहरुले गाउने रहेनछन्
राजा र गद्दिका कथा
युद्ध र वीरताका गाथा
उनीहरु गाउँछन्, आमाको वेदना
दिदीको विलाप बहिनीको रक्तश्राव
प्रेमिकाको इशारा र पत्नीको बुद्धिमता
एक अर्कालाई सम्हाल्ने र जीवन दान दिने महिला

तम पुत भया हम पाली दिउँला
हम कन्या मानाकी दिउँला
दिदी
हम कन्या मानाकी दिउँला

दुःख पोख्ने ठाउँ कतै नहुँदा
भित्र भित्रै कुँडिए पनि भो
अथवा
बाहिर पड्किएर जले पनि भयो
तर त्यो गरेनन् हाम्रा आमाहरुले
सबै वेदनाको उनीहरुले गीतै गाए।

माइतीको मायाबाट टाढा जान मन छैन छोरीलाई
तर उनी गाउँछिन् गीत राम र सीताको
र बताउँछिन्
एकैछिन् बसेर बाबालाई पुज्ने र आमालाई ढोग्ने ईच्छा

रामज्यूका रथ कसिया
सीता रानी, कतनी छ बेर?
सीता रानी, कतनी छ बेर?”

बुवाज्यूकी दियेली पुजन्छु
इजु माइ नी हुडी ढोग दिन्छु
इजु माइ नी हुडी ढोग दिन्छु

ज्ञानी बुद्धिमती छिन् आमा
तर कसेले सोध्दैन उनको ज्ञान र बुद्धि
चारैतिरबाट छेकिएकी बेरिएकी
आमा गाउँछिन् आफ्नै गीत
जहाँ छन् आमाहरु सम्मानित र पूजित
उनको गीतमा सीताले
सपना देखिन रे जंगलको
र वनवासको नाम सुन्नु भन्दा अघि नै
पाइन् भविष्यको आभास
थाहा पाइन कि सुखी देखिने उनको संसार
त्यती सुरक्षित छैन

आमा गीतमा नाम लिन्छिन् सुलोचनाको
र एकपटक रामायण पल्टाएर हेर्नै पर्यो मैले
को हुन यी पात्र भनेर
इन्द्रजीत भनिने रावणपुत्र मेघनादका दसौं नाम छन्
तर वाल्मिकीले उसकी पत्नीको नाम
एकपटक पनि लिनु उचित ठानेनन्।
हाम्रा आमाले मात्रै बचाएर राखेका छन्
झण्डै बिर्सिएकी सुलोचनाको कथा
जसकहाँ पतिको हात उडेर पुग्यो
र लेख्यो आफ्नै मृत्युको कहानी
र आलसतालस भएको लंकापति रावणले होइन
त्यसरी दिव्यदृष्टि झैं पाएकी सुलोचनाले
उद्धार गरेर गरिन् वीर पतीको सद्गति

उनीहरु गाउँछन् गीत यशोदाको
जसले दिइन् आफ्नी छोरीको बलिदान
सात छोरा गुमाएकी दिदीका लागि

तम पुत भया हम पाली दिउँला
हम कन्या मानाकी दिउँला
दिदी
हम कन्या मानाकी दिउँला
किताबले त भन्नेछन्
थाहै नपाइ जन्मेकी छोरीलाई
अर्काको छोरासंग साटेर लैजाँदा
यशोदा सुतिरहेकी थिइनः
अबोध, अनजान, अनभिज्ञ

किताबले यो पनि भन्नेछन्
कि देवकी जेलमा थिईन्
आठौं पुत्र गर्भमा हुँदा कसरी भेट्न सक्छिन्
बहिनी देवकीलाई नदी किनारमा?
कसरी रच्न सक्छिन् त्यत्रो षडयन्त्र?
  सात पुत थिया मेरा कनिसले हर्यो
आठौं पुत यो बोझा भार
बुदी
आठौं पुत यो बोझा भार
आठौं पुत्र बचाउनु त भगवानको लीला हो
र जे हुनु थियो त्यही भयो!
तर पनि आमाहरु त
बच्चाको ज्यान जोगाउने
दिदी र बहिनीकै गित गाउँछन्।
आफना मारने बिराना पालने
को होली बाबकी दिया
बुदी
को होली बाबकी दिया

आफना मारने बिराना पालने
म हुँलो बाबकी दिया
बुदी
म हुँलो बाबकी दिया

कसरी भेट भए दिदी बहिनी 
भनेर सोध्दा एउटी आमाले भनिनः
सपनामा होला कि?
दुइ बहिनी काँ होली भिट
दुइ बहिनी काँ होली भिट
खैरी भिट ताँ लै नहुली
खैरी भिट ताँ लै नहुली
(“केदारमा जाँत छैन यो साल, त्यहाँ भेट नहुने भो  दिदी
बुवाज्यूका घर सौतेनी आमा, त्यहाँ भेट नहुने भो दिदी
गंगा र जमुनाको जहाँ हुन्छ भेट,
त्यहीं भेटौंला बहिनी, त्यहीं भेटौंला “)

हो पक्कै,
आठौं पुत्र गर्भमा हुँदा
बन्दी बनेकी देवकी जान सक्दिनन् नदी किनारमा
गर्न सक्दिनन् बहिनी सामु विलाप
यो त सपनामा मात्रै हुन सक्छ।

कथामा पनि नारीको शक्ती
सपनामा र तर्कनामा नै भेटिंदो रहेछ
सीमानामा मात्रै बस्दो रहेछ

यी कथा किताबमा लेखिएका कथा झैं पुराना पनि हुन सक्छन्
र लेख्ने बेलामा लेखन्दासले तिनीहरुलाई नछानेको पनि हुन सक्छ
अथवा आफ्नो शक्ति र सामर्थ्यको ठाउँ 
आमाहरुले अन्त कतै नपाएपछि
उनीहरुले यी कथा पछि बनाएका पनि हुन सक्छन्

संसारले बोकाएका भारको विरोध गर्न
कसैले सम्मान नदिएपछि
आफ्नो मान अभिमान कायम राख्न
उनीहरुले बनाएका हुन सक्छन् देवी देवताको गीत
किनकी देवताको गित गाउनुमा केही दोष देखिंदैन
र आफूले आफ्नै आकृतिमा बनाएका देवताले दिन्छन् सधैं
जीवनमा आइलागेको जे सुकै सामना गर्ने शक्ति
र आफ्नो शक्तिको गीत दिनरात गाएपछि लाग्छ
आफूलाई मात्रै होइन सबैलाई पत्यार, त्यो शक्तिमा

हुन त कथामा पनि नारीको शक्ती
सपनामा र तर्कनामा नै भेटिंदो रहेछ
सीमानामा मात्रै बस्दो रहेछ

तर कलाले देखाउने धमिलो ऐनामा
पूर्ण समाज देख्नु छ भने
आमा दिदी बहिनी
पत्नी र प्रेमिकाको पनि कथा सुन्नु छ भने
त्यही सीमानामा नखोजी नहुने रहेछ)

यस्तो छ मेरो स्टोरीको एंगल
यो रिपोर्ट कसरी गर्ने होला बताइदिनुहोस् न!