enough, says my critic

what
     do you think you’re doing?

poetry’s never written in such haste

so get a grip of yourself

and quit barfing all over the place

we grow accustomed to the dark

she  has lots of friends and is the soul of every party

she has a sharp wit and is quick with her repartee

she radiates confidence and has a brilliant smile

she’s really well dressed and has an easy-going style

she’s smart and fit and cool and is really well liked

but if you look well enough one thing you’ll notice is that

when with people she always holds her left hand behind her back

unless she’s wearing a full-sleeved shirt which is rare

coz she can’t stand those things and then of course

she claims that she doesn’t care

but if you ask her

about that mark on her forearm

that she sometimes calls her dragonfly

for once she goes very quiet and has no witty reply

don’t ask me she says and i won’t have to lie

but if you get to know her

a little better and if she lets you in

she’ll talk of what a dangerous place the mind is

dark cavernous soul-numbing cold drenched in tears

swarmed by vague arbitrary pains and undefined fears

and like it or not we all have our demons to face

some more quotidian than others she says

and though i manage alright most of the time

they get the better of me once in a while

and then off comes the mask and poof! goes the smile

you pass the man everyday blowing happy bubbles

off the bubbles fly as he sinks deeper into his troubles

you’ve seen the demons in the lines on his face

and though his are about livelihood and security

yours about love and life are no more petty

and it is in bubbles that you both seek solace

you see his hair shining backlit in the morning sun and the glowing strand

of smoke from the shack and from the cigarette in his hand

shining in the light silvery as it rises twisting and turning

uncoiling like fate on an ominous ephemeral scroll

that’s how life gets sucked out of your soul

you think blue is sad and grey melancholy?

i’ve seen abject dejection clad in bright yellow and the most depressing

orange afternoons when the soul is chilled by a terrible weariness

and i can’t stand to see a face can’t stand talking to people

conversations make no sense and the will is rendered feeble

their faces expressionless like passengers slumped against windows

like empty wine bottles cluttered in the corner or dying plants in plastic jars

i’ve seen use and throw lives spent frequenting shady bars

lit by a dim red light dark shadows playing under everyone’s eyes

in dirty cramped cubicles with swinging doors and dusty table tops and greasy floors

half-remembered stumbling in and out of their seedy loos

it’s reality more than me that’s fragmented

so whose version are you going to believe?

your mind that’s conniving with the world to deceive you 
or your senses that only ensure that you perceive

enough to go on with your shuttered existence

it was all ok until it turned into a disaster

the doc said i should’ve been diagnosed faster

and it was decided that the world may be madder but i needed help

and just like that one fine day i was too dangerous

to be left alone with myself

and for the sake of others’ peace of mind

i was put on a healthy doze of fluoxetine and sertraline

i was formally introduced to zoloft and prozac and paxil

that keep you on your feet the magic pills

that empty the soul when it’s filled

with that terrible weariness

but what if i say that i’ve had enough

and what if i just disappear right off the face of the earth

or just right off your social network for what it’s worth

how long if at all will i be missed for there is no dearth

of self-proclaimed artists and poets and such-like freaks

and i was just another one and would you be

terribly disappointed inconsolably let down

if i chose to not wear the thorny crown

and decided instead to go my own way

and die an unknown death amongst

a handful of people who barely know my name

but will burn me when i’m dead and relegate the ashes to the wind

and then the trapped dragonfly will finally take wing

know that joy is but fleeting it is sorrow that is deep

and the most important lessons in life i learnt dealing with grief

so it’ll only make you stronger though initially you may be torn

but kindly say no more than a line or two

when talking of me when i’m gone

not you, of course

you come in my dreams all the time

dressed in familiar clothes and fragrances i know

you love me sometimes and sometimes you don’t

and you never wear kajal

sometimes it’s just parts of you

that come to haunt me

your skin your smell your feel

your rib-cage your back your pale heel

last week it was your chimpanzee hands

as you curled up beside me to sleep

this week it’s your calves

and the skin behind your knees

i know they don’t belong to me

and to justify i’d say it’s not you

it’s a woman i once knew

who doesn’t exist anymore

the things one lives with

you won’t even remember any of this tomorrow

the advantages of being so drunk

your hopeless laments of love lost

and mourning in grief over being dumped

declarations of undying love for the woman

you otherwise say you hate so much

but you’ll remember you created a scene

and feel horrid about it at lunch

and then you’ll work magic in the kitchen

and come up with something sublime

with a meal that’s fit to feed the gods

you’ll apologize in style

and while on your fingers the smell

of the garlic you peeled will still linger

we’ll make love right here on the bed

stained with your tears for her

one gets by

it is my bag that sits beside me in buses now and doesn’t make a sound

it asks for my hand sometimes though to keep it from moving around

and i walk with my hands in my pockets my step steady though slow

with only the breeze touching the inside of my elbows

and yet strangely the mist is the only companion i seek

as amongst the pale pink peach blossoms it comes rolling

and i feel at peace with my fractured self held together

as into the white nothingness i go strolling

not that i’ll wait, but

it’d been some time since i shared mirror space

i’d almost forgotten that look when people examine their own face

and then of course there’s romance in exchanging smiles

as i brush my teeth and you comb your hair

appraising yourself through narrowed eyes

i’d forgotten the joys of  warm hugs

and dozing off talking late into the night

and the warm red glow as sitting side by side

we silently watch the setting sun

so come by again sometime, beautiful traveller

come by before my days are done

prologue to a gray dawn

reaching out in the dark my hand finds yours as we walk back in the chilly dawn

we’re smiling exhaling white breath from cold lips as our fingers brush in the foggy morn

my head is light and my feet don’t feel the ground as i carelessly twirl and you laugh

unmindful of the fact that we’re going to be torn asunder and you’ll be gone

and so skipping we go stepping lightly in the darkness with not a soul around

our steps echo and the distant howl of the dog we disturbed is the only other sound

my fingers are numb and i feel not my toes and the night of passion still alive in my head

sends shivers down my sides as i miss the sheets still warm we left rumpled on the bed

the barricade’s unmanned and we squeeze through kicking stones as we go

and they noiselessly skim on the black tar while the occasional passing car splits our shadows

on the walls and leaves them moon-walking backwards off the shutters of shops corrugated shut

that stand vigil in silent rows the solemn witnesses to our undeclared love

the heron

in a gap in the endless row of trucks

in the traffic jam where we were stuck

i saw him in the waterlogged paddy field

probing for worms in the muck

the paddy field was a fresh green

and the grove beyond shaded dark

where coconut and areca nut trees

shaded meandering mossy paths

my thoughts stayed behind in that gap

and with the carefree heron flew

when he quietly flapped away

against the distant mountains blue

on my ankles i felt the cold wetness

and the grass stalks brushed my leg

my toes squelched in the wet mud

and i smiled at the clouds overhead

stranger memories

lemme give you a memory

she shouted across the street to me

a memory you won’t forget she said

stepping over the railing of the balcony

i was young, maybe eighteen, and new to the city

visiting my sister and my brother-in-law and i was alone

in their apartment on floor number twenty-three

it was a chilly october evening with the wind howling in the streets

and the pavements all were lined with heaps of fallen leaves

her matted hair loose she stood barefoot in a pair of faded jeans

that she wore below a flowery dress that ended way above her knees

a sheer white thing with big blue flowers blowing in the breeze

i remember how she looked at me over her shoulder

her hands on the railing her heels over space

the mascara smudged on her sad serene face

i just wanted someone to watch

she said and turning

stepped off