Thursday, January 12, 2006

Verse and worse

The commuter's diary

Soon after he died
They found his diary
with strange marks
weathered and deformed
on certain days of his working life
Queer man, they labeled
and buried him so
The diary joined
the pile of trash
to the old paper mart
Its new asylum

Only the diary knew
those strange marks
stood for lucky days
of imperial travel
at the window seat
in swarming trains

The shuttling journey on beaten tracks
Now rusts in peace
In the solemn grave yard
The torn mute witness
Recycled for peanuts


I desire to break free
from the crumbling frame
and the heavy load
of an old dream

But the scornful smile
of my vicious fate
Aerates me afresh
With false hope

Safe and Sound

Day in and day out
Clock keeps ticking
Only for the din
Am alive and kicking

The busy brush and its tap
Shoe shine guy sings a rap
Hey! keep marchin onward
Put your best foot forward
Music at the flour mill
Santoor beats, a welcome fill
White ghost warm and funny
Five grands for this symphony

Tempting rhythm on tracks
Pleading screech on cracks
Trains you call local
So friendly and vocal
Wheely creatures honk
the peace of a monk

Wailing sirens, humming machine
Serve an universal cuisine
Twists-n-turns, merry-go-round
I feel safe in this sound

8.12 V T fast - Up or Down

Shewanta hates her name
Her creaking Dombivali chawl
Sakharam loves her name
His screeching Ambernath dream

Her dream abode in a Dadar flat
A bathroom to call her own
His eyes set on that last room
Minutes away from the loo

His fantasy wrapped in a saree
Pallu playing hide and seek
She yearns for that sexy look
Tight trousers and tempting tops

Her first thought of the day
Weeping kitchen tap for witness
The new US-returned boss
Benetton shirt and matching tie

“Permanent” letter and Diwali bonus
Honeymoon at Matheran lodge
His sweet voyage all night long
Wrecked by the old man’s cough

She wears a big wide grin
with the Pink salwar kameez
Hopping over crumpled sheets
Favourite number on his lips

Both happy in their hope
Sailing in the 8.12 V T fast
Stroking respective dreams
In the sweat of the ruckus

Dance Bar

Man to wife

Office folks coming home
Dump the old saree
Get the modern look
You have a week’s time
Buy lace and satin
Wear it within
And for god sake
Lose that matron bra
Jeans would be just right
To mingle in the crowd
Your safe new look
Even after the fourth peg
Learn from Mrs. Kapoor
Miss Lily and Ms Gidwani
All about graceful mixers
And broad-minded gestures
Am a new age hubby
Rise to the occasion
Great fun to be a flirt
Within your laxman rekha

Wife to herself

Ok you bloody swine
Will fuel your aspiration
Modern or ancient
You will crack the whip

Watch your wife gyrate
Around home-made numbers
Warm and desirable
Strictly not available
Will tease and tickle
A shudh bharitiya pickle
My sexy inviting look
Will hook but not unhook
When the party’s over
Back to the kitchen
Serving wada and sambar
The quintessential homemaker

Home sweet home
And a happy family
Closed-door dance bar
But not a pickup joint

Soap Opera

The seven-storyed concrete
Every window a channel
Some dark with "for sale" tags
others lit with serial hope

Emotion fighting intellect
Stories on every floor
Some sponsered, others not
Telecast on prime time

Bed-ridden grandma
swallows Her pride
with the capsule
Another episode extended
At the mercy of fate

Merging into each other
hit and miss affair
The newly wed couple
Eternal bliss in foreplay

Householder with tense eyes
Behind broad-rimmed specs
Busy pulling shoe-strings
Losing balance on the sheet

Damsel surfing the world
An obliging idiot box
Dry gravy on the rice
Sorry picture on the plate

Soap operas galore
Pathos, romance,intrigue
Each bubble floating
only while "on air"

Soft wear and tear

Programmed for America
A body shoppers’ delight
Made in India
A short-term contract
Mercy of the great dollar

Paradise lost
Back to the rupee
The Top-notch professional
And true patriot

Huge Loan on salary
Chauffer-driven Honda City
Pink slip, the next day

Frantic call

Dying ring tones
Unsung missed calls
Emails buried alive
The Junk mail debris

Mystery for me
History for you

The perfect couple

Deep embrace
Brimming grace
Passion rocked
Emotion locked
Corporal lust
Karmic thrust
Swift and supple
The perfect couple

Buzzing doorbell
Crack the shell
Wrap the surreal
Fake the real
Time to unwind
Back to the grind

Get me the broom
Or spell my doom
Save me the smack
Memsaab’s back

Time to let go

Mindless travel
away from navel
Lock to the fore
key in the core
Search invain
truth plain
clueless strife
end ripe
Breathless nap
Call of the gap
Dump the urge
Time to merge