Yayati

One doesn't need to be Yayati

To feel

The unending thread of desire

One kind word

One embrace

Is never enough

You just want attention 

Constantly

All the time

Death

Life is so much more

Bearable

Even happy

After you decide to die

You don't have to feel

Anything

You can simply

Go through the motions

Let things bounce off

Of your body

And since you are dead

Every instance of happiness

Is a bonus 

Warmth

I know it's not allowed

I know it's not my due

I know it's against the rules

And yet,

When I see you

I always ask you

Five more minutes?

An hour? 

And even I neglect to ask you

Be sure

That it is only because

I want

The whole day

Which I dare not voice

And so, since

Asking for five minutes

Makes no sense

I abandon

The whole enterprise 

For when you are gone

I will be left with

A deep and wide crevasse

That takes over my insides

That nothing can fill

And only when 

You are there again

Do I feel the abyss

Filled

With warm sunlight

That floods me up

From the inside

Ending in

The dawn of a smile

Mool

And today I found out

That a man

Will look upon the face

Of his newborn child

If

And only if

It is ascertained

That the child was not born

Under stars

That are harmful

To the father

And I am left reeling

With shock

As i think of 

What happens if

The child's stars

Harm the mother?

Do they never harm the mother?

No, that cannot be possible

In that case,

The mother

Has no choice but to look

Upon the face of the 

Inauspicious child

In an aside,

As a mother I would prefer that

Rather than have my child taken away

Because of some stars

Who seem so distant

And so less important

Than my desire

To hold my child

But then

Let's come back to the case of

The mother

And the "inauspicious" child

I don't think the stars are consulted

Before the mother

Looks upon the face

Of her child

Which means

Either that the mother is 

Not considered

As important as the father

(Which is of course the case)

Or everyone knows

It's futile

Because

The child has always been 

With the mother

And so whatever harm

It can cause

Has always been there

And will be with her

After birth

Because you cannot

Separate the child

From the mother

At least, not so soon

Or both 

So there

Is the mother

Absorbing all harm

That the child can do

Like a tree

That takes a hit

Of lightening

And is still standing 

There is the mother

Her body already

A site of 

Not just birth

But battle, and death

There is the mother

An entire universe

In itself

And then there is the father

Running away

Hiding

Making choices

To confront

Only what he can handle

No wonder

He seeks

To circumscribe

Someone

So much more powerful

Than him

 

By telling her

That she does not

Need to consult the stars

Because

She is worthless

Night

Some days

Ok, cut that and make it most days

Or even, all days

I would like to go to sleep

Serenaded 

Not by the bark of a dog

Or the roar of engines

(That, most particularly)

Or the whistle of pressure cookers

But by the gentle sound

Of a river flowing by

And the chherful chirping

Of crickets

Some day I would like to go to sleep

Not in the harsh glare of a tungsten bulb

Or several thousand of them

Not in the half-light which remains 

In the city,  in any case 

Despite me and mine switching off

All our lights

But in deep, dark, liquid black of the night

Some day I would like

To be lulled to sleep

Not by the smell

Of the aftertaste of cooking

But the free growing gardenias

The parijats and the raat ki ranis

That light up the heart and soul

Some day when I am startled

In the middle of the night

I would like to open my eyes

Not to rows and rows and rows

Of houses

Each as concrete

And mundane as the other

But to the vast night skies

Full of twinkling stars

Some day when I lie restless

And my soul yearns for

Something I cannot name 

A bit of magic, a bit of poetry

And I walk out to calm down

I would like to wander

Not up and down the stairs

Nor fidget inside

The four walls of my room

But stroll

In a moonlit garden

Or forest

Or riverside

And feast my eyes on

The silver sights

Where all is black and white and grey

Where nothing had colors 

But they don't seem to miss it

And instead glow

With a faint, otherworldly irridiscence 

Yes, someday I would like to

Drink upon this scene

And let my soul rest

And recuperate

From the harsh, 

Beauty-less world

That is my reality

A world robbed of nature

And what it could do for the soul

As usual, I ask myself

How much of my imagination

Is a romanticizing

Of things I have never experienced

And how I would react

To these things if

They really happened

Bu today,

I brush that question aside

Today, merely

I think and I imagine

And I drown and I enjoy

The thought of these sights

Some day, 

I would like to see

Fireflies bloom

In the dead of the night