Thursday, May 03, 2007


My favourite poet once wrote:
“I am saddened by the sight of melting candles,
Instead, let’s sit in the dark.”

We both sat in the dark.
I had no idea, she was afraid of darkness.

The subject of our talk was me
I had no idea, she did not want to hear them.

The novel was over
And people went home
Now, hero-heroine would live
Happily ever after
The sun like gold
The moon like silver
Child’s chatter
Smell of onion in the kitchen
Now, they would live
Happily ever after
Yes, they were supposed to live happily
They were supposed to
That is why
People went home
And slept
And dreamt. No hero-heroine was there
People forgot about them
And forgot to read the last page
Of the novel.
That was an accident
Yes, we can call it an accident
People forgot to read the page
Of the novel
And did not know what happed to
The hero and the heroine
People thought after this
They would live happily
Heroine though she would be happy
After all
Within the arms of the handsome hero
The hero thought likewise
But the problem was
The last page of the novel
The last page which no one read
And no one knew
What happened to the hero and the heroine
No one read the
Last page of
The novel

Poems are closed rooms
A diseased beggar lying on the footpath
Where the poet sun
Refuses to touch him –

The sky does not know the placidity of rain
The way the banyan tree does not know
Its soothing shade

One day, I told you
I love you
Now, with the opposite word
I can’t even say
I hate you
Yet, can’t even say
I love you

It would have been easier if you were just gone
I would have blamed you
Cursed my fate
And imagine: how wonderful the days were
When you were around

Now we sit on the opposite side of a table
As if eunuch banks of a barren river
Where there is meeting and
No parting

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