To note it down very briefly
It is very important to understand physicality, the changing
weather conditions, geographies, terrains and the fever in the skin, in the
eyes. Or is it just mental? The same two eyes looking differently at depression
and anxiety: what is this cooling lollypop of ice called kulfi that is
satisfying the thirst of my soul. Where should I publish my poems, pray tell
me, where should I publish my stories, songs and dreamlogues, the travel
manuals. Where should I begin trying to trace the contours of my sexuality, in
my non-existent body or my invisible souls?
Would you rather accept that sex is the most exciting thing
that has ever happened to humans? Is it like a song, a transfixation of the
gaze or attention on a body, most complete in feeling, elation, joy, heartbreak,
sweat, piss, tears, all mixing at a meta- level.
Some writers write after arranging their thoughts, I am
writing free-hand so that my chaotic thoughts may order themselves, arrange
themselves in sequences, so that you can tell the difference between males and
womales, fames and butches, between so called magnanimity and timidness –
Is sex more exciting than language? Is sex language, is it a
technology? Is the technology evolving? I watch ants, looking for something,
losing their way.
I express my thoughts in English, I express my desires in
plastic. I have stopped using metaphors like I’ve stopped using drugs, I’m
practicing the technology of self control. I don’t even as much as touch
myself. The more I try to control my inner activity the more uncontrollable and
edging to the limits of insanity my feelings become. We are a sea inside. If
the sea ever has to stop, time itself would stand still. We are counting our
lives in breaths and our deaths in surprises. How will we ever decide what is
more exciting, sex, drugs or violence?
(2019)
--
I silently got up from the river bank and moved away. She was sleeping while I sat and puffed my cigarette away, switching gazes from the golden ripples to her curls hiding her eyes from the sunny strides. She changed her side and faced the other side. I too finished my cigarette and dusted myself without making the slightest rustle, for she was still sleeping. While I walked away from the silence into the growing hustle I wondered if she would follow me. Noise might disturb her slumber.
I carefully avoided the puddles and ignored my neighbour who commented continually upon my whereabouts. I quickly entered into my room and lied down on my bed.
She was still sleeping. Smilin' at some sweet dream. Pouting for something, moving for something, changing sides while I hushed the flies away. I looked intently at her face. That was everything. Meant the entire world for me. I waited, and so I would...
The fan rotated slowly over my overfilled stomach. And I thought with arms behind my head. For quite some time may be. Don't know for how long. While her face twitched at some violent nightmare. She perspired and gasped for breath. I bowed nervously over her tryin' to do something to ease her pain.
Your pain, your sleep, your nightmares, how to stop them sweet lady?
(undated, approx. 2006)
--
Dreamlogue
Shailja was a small girl when she saw the teeth gritting fiercely screeching monkeys in the zoo. She had tried to touch them. Only to infuriate Mr. Daga. She had seen the barking wolves, baring their fangs, gobbling up pieces of raw meat. The gang of wolverines had come there and played the games of courage with the wolves and the monkeys. They had punched them from between the cage bars. They had tried to get inside the arena of fierce monstrosity.
And how had it infuriated Mr. Daga, Shailja still remembers.
"These girls, oh these brats, these girls!" He shook while he screamed. "They are all sending bad messages to my small angel. They are teaching her the games of death. These girls, with red leather bikini tops. Their leather skirts can't even hide their skin". He called out to the zoo manager to shut them up and take them away. The manager had switched off all the lights of the zoo and drove all of them out of the dark auditorium.
The monkeys, the wolves, the wolverines....are they still fresh in my angel Shailja's mind?
I thought as I treaded slowly towards her apartment.
(approx. 2006)
--
This, in fact, is the power of the imagination, which, combining the memory of gold with that of the mountain, can compose the idea of a golden mountain.
- Umberto Eco
Nature is an infinite sphere whose center is everywhere, whose circumference is nowhere.
- Pascal
Life and dreams are leaves of the same book: reading them in order is living; skimming through them is dreaming.
- Schopenhauer
To be in love is to create a religion whose God is fallible.
- Valery
A dream is a scripture, and many scriptures are nothing but dreams...
- Eco
--
Isn't it fun to drown into the chasm? Drift into the vague emptiness of love and fate. The fear of the unknown, the lump in the heart is sugar. The ocean of wisdom, the valleys of life are all great. There too you fall in a flightless bliss. The fall without a landing. The fall for forever.
Or is it to rise in the empty sky? It well might be so. Like the densest snowke. To rise and scatter into infinity. Spread the fragrance of silver and charcoal.
In this universe, you either will fall or will rise. To walk in fixed pathways is the job of planets and the lumps of dust and fire. Where will the flesh and blood go? Turn into dinner?
(approx. 2006)
--
who claimed all your life?
who blamed you all through your life?
who cried to hear your voice?
who didn't give you another choice?
who lived with your broken dreams?
who shivered at your toxic schemes?
who lied just to get your love?
who tried to steal the magic shrub?
who wanted to get higher than you?
who drank poison more than you?
who shouted at you to change your ways?
keep answering, as you've done always.
--
Well, if they don't understand
What is our fault in it?
If its so complex around
where do we fit in?
Can they stop us thinking,
about me, you or us?
They might take away everything else
They can shout, scream or curse.
And that can bring a few drops
in the eyes of mine or yours
That won't change anything else
The sea might recede or encroach the shore.
The stars can engulf us
but only when they're dead
Who can kill the monsters
which we have only bred?
Abstracts are easy to define
hard to understand
This hiding place must be a secret
Our secret castle of sand.
--
It is a grey sky
and ebony giants silhouette
while it lay barren....
the ground behind the streets.
Soft and tempting
My childhood ground.
Secured with boundaries
But no fences around.
So I went behind the street
To imprint on the grey sand
Weeping softly to make it wet
For Amanda and her wand.
And barren it lay beneath my feet
While I wept, to let them meet.
And grains shifted to make the way.
Bared its fangs to engulf my feet.
--
Technology kills
sophistication makes us cheap, complex
and fragile.
(all approx. 2006)
--
(2019)
--
I silently got up from the river bank and moved away. She was sleeping while I sat and puffed my cigarette away, switching gazes from the golden ripples to her curls hiding her eyes from the sunny strides. She changed her side and faced the other side. I too finished my cigarette and dusted myself without making the slightest rustle, for she was still sleeping. While I walked away from the silence into the growing hustle I wondered if she would follow me. Noise might disturb her slumber.
I carefully avoided the puddles and ignored my neighbour who commented continually upon my whereabouts. I quickly entered into my room and lied down on my bed.
She was still sleeping. Smilin' at some sweet dream. Pouting for something, moving for something, changing sides while I hushed the flies away. I looked intently at her face. That was everything. Meant the entire world for me. I waited, and so I would...
The fan rotated slowly over my overfilled stomach. And I thought with arms behind my head. For quite some time may be. Don't know for how long. While her face twitched at some violent nightmare. She perspired and gasped for breath. I bowed nervously over her tryin' to do something to ease her pain.
Your pain, your sleep, your nightmares, how to stop them sweet lady?
(undated, approx. 2006)
--
Dreamlogue
Shailja was a small girl when she saw the teeth gritting fiercely screeching monkeys in the zoo. She had tried to touch them. Only to infuriate Mr. Daga. She had seen the barking wolves, baring their fangs, gobbling up pieces of raw meat. The gang of wolverines had come there and played the games of courage with the wolves and the monkeys. They had punched them from between the cage bars. They had tried to get inside the arena of fierce monstrosity.
And how had it infuriated Mr. Daga, Shailja still remembers.
"These girls, oh these brats, these girls!" He shook while he screamed. "They are all sending bad messages to my small angel. They are teaching her the games of death. These girls, with red leather bikini tops. Their leather skirts can't even hide their skin". He called out to the zoo manager to shut them up and take them away. The manager had switched off all the lights of the zoo and drove all of them out of the dark auditorium.
The monkeys, the wolves, the wolverines....are they still fresh in my angel Shailja's mind?
I thought as I treaded slowly towards her apartment.
(approx. 2006)
--
This, in fact, is the power of the imagination, which, combining the memory of gold with that of the mountain, can compose the idea of a golden mountain.
- Umberto Eco
Nature is an infinite sphere whose center is everywhere, whose circumference is nowhere.
- Pascal
Life and dreams are leaves of the same book: reading them in order is living; skimming through them is dreaming.
- Schopenhauer
To be in love is to create a religion whose God is fallible.
- Valery
A dream is a scripture, and many scriptures are nothing but dreams...
- Eco
--
Isn't it fun to drown into the chasm? Drift into the vague emptiness of love and fate. The fear of the unknown, the lump in the heart is sugar. The ocean of wisdom, the valleys of life are all great. There too you fall in a flightless bliss. The fall without a landing. The fall for forever.
Or is it to rise in the empty sky? It well might be so. Like the densest snowke. To rise and scatter into infinity. Spread the fragrance of silver and charcoal.
In this universe, you either will fall or will rise. To walk in fixed pathways is the job of planets and the lumps of dust and fire. Where will the flesh and blood go? Turn into dinner?
(approx. 2006)
--
who claimed all your life?
who blamed you all through your life?
who cried to hear your voice?
who didn't give you another choice?
who lived with your broken dreams?
who shivered at your toxic schemes?
who lied just to get your love?
who tried to steal the magic shrub?
who wanted to get higher than you?
who drank poison more than you?
who shouted at you to change your ways?
keep answering, as you've done always.
--
Well, if they don't understand
What is our fault in it?
If its so complex around
where do we fit in?
Can they stop us thinking,
about me, you or us?
They might take away everything else
They can shout, scream or curse.
And that can bring a few drops
in the eyes of mine or yours
That won't change anything else
The sea might recede or encroach the shore.
The stars can engulf us
but only when they're dead
Who can kill the monsters
which we have only bred?
Abstracts are easy to define
hard to understand
This hiding place must be a secret
Our secret castle of sand.
--
It is a grey sky
and ebony giants silhouette
while it lay barren....
the ground behind the streets.
Soft and tempting
My childhood ground.
Secured with boundaries
But no fences around.
So I went behind the street
To imprint on the grey sand
Weeping softly to make it wet
For Amanda and her wand.
And barren it lay beneath my feet
While I wept, to let them meet.
And grains shifted to make the way.
Bared its fangs to engulf my feet.
--
Technology kills
sophistication makes us cheap, complex
and fragile.
(all approx. 2006)
--
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