Thursday, January 21, 2010

Central Line
























In times that greys and whites
pattern, speckle and tesselate
stretches of tiles and skies
A yellow line smudged with
the earth it carved out
trails the fringes of the songs
you draw in your mind.


As you alight volumes of steel
and adverts of countries
you'd visit as you sleep, fitfully
cashing in on your frequent flier miles
The ragged dolls of pity
strut the beaches in exotic names and swimwear
as the blondes stand neckdeep 
in callous dark waters, bobbing
possesions of their dollhouses
and antique chestnut dressers.


Coloured tubes persevere in centimeters
of drunken auras and mint laced breaths
carefully exalting fumes
of half scalded hearts, burnt at the pub altar
exhumed though, outside
mackintosh doors with roses and serpents
in thick and cold 
tinted glass and grids
barring escapes, from your Edens.


Stare closely, at those grouted grimy lines
sketched along edges of giant set-squares laid in time.
Don't look at the tip of your nose
you'd get cross-eyed, and perhaps a splitting spine.


They leap, those striations
in sonatas and symphonies
you write with your gait.
Every clicked heel, a beat
tappety tap tap
on trodden concrete.






You alight and slump
in your red and blue seat
As you flew across, so did the crow
The dash you charted
Now, you      s l o w


Orchestrated quartets bow and light up
each, a music sheet;

three strings allude the synagogue,
(with spiral staircases and flying buttresses)
burning polaroids in light
expanses and darker hollows.
A harpsichord picks its chord
A Giordani I know.


Wistfully they climb the crest
in C minors
as you melt away..
leaving behind


your afterglow.



Sunday, January 17, 2010

dhaage ko hindi main kya kehte hain?

धागा था कच्चा
जो तुमने उठाया
परखकर, अपनी ऊँगली पर नचाया
थोडा खींचा, ताना, फिर दी ढील
तो धागा, डगमगाया /

उसी को तुमने वापस लपेटा
यादों का एक संदूक जा खोला
अपने पिटारे में जगह बनायीं
और रेशम के रुमाल में
क्या वहीँ, उसे समेटा //

उस रेशम की नींद में
मैंने एक सपना देखा
और जैसे की सिनेमा में होता है
आया तभी वह सपना तुम्हे
और वह पल , कुछ तो बहका /

अब क्या वो धागा कहता..

तुम तो ठहरे कढ़ाई के जादूगर
उठाई सुई और लगे
तिरछी आँख से दूसरी आँख में
खेलने सुई-धागे का खेल
धागा भागा, कहीं चूंका
लेकिन जादू-टोने ने बड़ा धमकाया //

तुमने धागा क्या गिराया
लगे लिखने, अपना शाही उपन्यास
अपने, इस भागते मंडराते कलम से ;
कभी दिशा बदलता, कभी रूप
कभी खींच, तो कभी लचक
यहीं कुछ अक्षर बने, कुछ लोग
उन्हीं को उन रेखाओं में
कैद किया, और वहीँ आज़ाद हुए

उस आज़ादी के पट्ट-चित्र में
तुमने पिरोया, एक मोती
छोटा, पर कठिन
कुछ उस 'double' किये धागे की तरह
जिसके पैरों को कैद कर पक्की गाँठ में बाँधा/

बाँधा,
तो उसी गाँठ में वह पैर चले
कहीं घुंगरू की खनक उठी
आमद के बोल, एक सलामी, कुछ थाट गूंजी
वही सुनते, दिल झूम उठा
उन बंधे पैरों के नशे में
कुछ समा बंधा
कुछ हम बंधे /

धागा थिर्थिराया और आगे बढ़ा
एक कहानी लिखी, एक मोती जचा //

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Pattern-party


Swerving toes of men hung
in shamed centuries that 
mark the plot
shadow my days and junkets
in frigid time and passing weather
Stretching blankets of green 
with corners that thus spake
the ones I write, tonight 
preceded by, an asterisk.


Listings, exemplars, epochs
ascertained and appropriated
Perusal, yours
Debate and egresses, created.




As you leave
When the cold snatches your breath
and blows back smoke rings, you swallow
read, the notes in the haze.


The fog that bobs and bears
spiel and legend
parallel cities and spans
metered, devised and punctuated.


Speckles in shimmering consistencies
strewn across collective universes
that sing the songs in drones we know;
leap
out of bassinets and petri-dishes
and climb the proverbial doublehelix
fragile, in welded snowflakes 


And as they descend the inverted skyscraper
turning along it's inclining walls
falling inwards, back to where it all started
they mate, cheat and play the game of bacchus
spirited, in wine and daze


I watch,tickled, in my head
as they climb, slowly 
gravitating to the pulsating sciatic
precariously stretched nerves and hide
untangled, suspending
a trampoline
throbbing names
throbbing dates
throbbing pain


Apophenia, today
reigns.




http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Disease_of_Language

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

ghisai

for most of you who know me 
and know all the other stuff that most people who know me, know about me
you know that i have a website
that i hardly ever end up updating with my work
because i can hardly understand the code and the process now
with my head swimming with things more important than HTML and suchlike




so what i've managed to do
and it's an accomplishment for me (ergo, the need for applause)
is that i've managed to put together some of my work
on yet another social networking website
but it's done
and it's one less thing to do in 2010


i'll keep it updated hopefully




check it out if you may


http://www.coroflot.com/payal

Friday, January 8, 2010

boyohboy


sunshine brought him in
jabberwockying, mid-meals
a gleam on my rearview mirror
of the car i never drove or dreamt up
but the one that pushed my train up the hill
up
from where i could see
the sea

a high tide, surging up a haze
a reverie in green, white and blue
shimmering a million pieces held, glued
a whistle that held the tune

breezing in, the curtains they pirouette
in circles and halves
broken and oblique
tangential like the lives that hold us
you remind me
of people i wanted to visit and of places i wanted to be
an incandescent looking glass
a brasso-ed haft, the split veneer
laughing perversely at our trails
refracting, bouncing, imagining

never was that kind word silent
never was the one stoic , liquid
hear me out, tonight if you will
i rhyme and conjure
those hundreds-and-thousands
in colours you and i summoned

round them up, whisk them in the trowel
and sink them in urns
bury, in the lair
for soon
we'll find them pickled
with stories, yours and mine
handpicked
marinated
and sundried

Friday, January 1, 2010

out

disappearances and forgiveness
thick pie crusts gone stale
'BLUEBERRY'
old rancid layers of creamcheese
for breakfast

i wipe it clean
the dribble
the spilt cake
clear now, the glass and the mind
markings in yellow markers swept loose
broken, multiplying and hooked distances
from one another and the other

affable meetings
and stark goodbyes
the lid struck down
not a muscle
nothing winces
the tear is scanty now
yellow markings
down a cheek
you knew

Sunday, December 13, 2009

weekend tramplings

Patches of darkness spill
onto the gravel
lit by a million fireflies; guiding
flames and memories
songs
and songs of a song

of
the evening
spent walking our minutes by the leash
letting them go, out but not far
we walk them in sync and when you stop
i know its time
to retrace those steps and go home
to arms we belong, times we contain and possessions we become.

walk with me the time
ours
alone
this time, once
walk it slow.