Wednesday, 21 July 2010

To my Muse

Have I told you, girl,
How pretty you look
With your tresses wet,
In the rain. Drops of water
Flashing rainbow-lights
At my eyes, blinding.
In the first morning light
Your cheeks bathed in
Pale pink and orange.
Dappling and dancing,
You tease me, girl,
With your shy ways
And glinting eyes,
You lead me into sunsets.

And when you are furious,
You cut me with your dagger-words
And I, wounded remain
Waiting for your venom to dilute.
You are my witchcraft girl
And through your magic
Ways I see a complete me
Completed only by you.
When you weave your
Midnight tales, I am
Enchanted by your honey voice.
Your swaying moves and
Torrid love has enchained
Me for life.

I don’t want to leave you,
My love,
But our ways now, they part
And I must be on my way
But you shall wait
Now, wont you
With your enticing glances
Your warm, moist hands
Touching, swirling,
Inviting me.
Through the smoky haze
Of my memories I will
Ensconse myself in you
For ever, forever...

Friday, 9 July 2010

To Manipal - III

I have lived in big cities and small, fast cities and slow. And I have always felt that big cities change a person, mould him/her into it’s own shape. Even a person like me has managed to go shopping to counter depression and loneliness and feel momentarily better on swiping the plastic.

Then there was a magical land called Manipal, where the sun was yanked out by its ears in the morning by the cacophony of hostelites and at the end of the day, it dipped lazily into the sea. People who came in first year complained and whined of the slowness, the non-availability of good food, missing home, missing shopping. Three years later they cried, at having to leave, at having to let go. The boys became men, and the girls, ladies.

Manipal was witness to the transformation. When awkward teens became suave talkers, shy adolescents became charmers. As I go back another time, the last time as a college student, I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that all will be fine when I get there, all my problems and disappointments will vanish and I will be at peace. Like the wind on the sea, the breeze through the trees, the salt-laden air hanging heavy and low, I too will relax.

Big cities mould you out, small towns soak you in for life...

Tuesday, 6 July 2010


Blue venom words
For your disgused self.
Your girl speaks
In layered tones.
Do you feel her ether?
Does she make you a man, boy?
Does she?

Don’t touch her so,
For she crumbles
Like splayed raindrops.

Hold her like a magnet
And be singed by her flame, yet.
Let her lead you,
Once, for her ruby red lips,
Twice, for her snaky eyes,
Thrice, for your silent questions,
Her unsaid replies.

Come, then, in smoke spirals
And foreign words.
Come in lilac, come in mosaic,
Come, for you
Shall be a man yet
If you believe in
The witchcraft in her eyes.