I NEVER LED YOU UP THE GARDEN PATH

i never tried
to lead you up
a garden path.
and if you saw roses
surely they could only
have been 
your own
fantasy?
why, then, 
did you choose
to riddle me with thorns
that weren't imaginary at all -
each 
leaving me
so bruised
that the wounds 
are still raw,
bleeding...
nothing could be more real than them.

* * *

was it only yesterday
that you brought those roses
which i'd arranged in the vase
gently ridding them of thorns.
nothing had happened then,
no injury
as i sat handling each beautiful bloom.
what was different then -
was it love perhaps ?
i know, 
please don't remind me
i don't believe in love,
i'd always maintained,
and do i now,
i wonder...
well, let it remain
another
unresolved contradiction
like all those others
within me
that force me
to turn towards you
even as i realize
that our paths
are not meant to cross

* * *

and if i got lost
missed your door
and could not even find
the one i'd left behind,
i suppose its all my fault,
after all,
our definitions of love
are not the same.
i'd only said
i don't know what love is;
but i'm grateful for what i've learnt...
all that love is not -
hurting
tormenting,
and leaving
the other...
slowly
but surely,
if the lust is left
unfulfilled...
what kind of shallowness
would desire only the body
but not the soul
offered
so wholeheartedly.

* * *

how can i help but remember
the constellation in the sky
that you once pointed out to me
as i stood,
and stared,
transposed,
becoming almost a part of
orion,
was it ?
and now,
suddenly
i feel
as if
the
orion's
spear
were
pointing
out at me!

* * *

and just the other day,
when you sat reciting poetry
in that velvety voice of yours
that blanks out everything
but
the poet,
his imagination
and me,
how proud i felt
to have inspired
words so
sublime.

* * *

but if you now choose
to ignore
the willingness to accompany,
the eagerness to give,
the togetherness to share,
and the eternal bonds
that tie us,
and if you're
actually feeling
a little out of depth,
the loss is also yours
for thwarting
these deep pools
of feeling,
that lay...
...just waiting to be tapped.


* * *

what gave you the right
to walk away ?
in that one infinitesimal moment
that separated
agony from ecstasy
life from death,
you from me ...
why do you seek to destroy,
with one single blow,
timeless joy,
and that precious something
we shared, but could not
give a name to.

* * *

whose number would i dial
when i'm in need of a friend,
whose shoulder would i weep on,
whose door would i knock upon
when life seems like a dark tunnel,
and the only ray of light
eludes me,
when everything collapses
like a pack of cards,
so easily shaken
by a mere gust of wind.
and who would edit these meanderings
and shape them
into profound poetry,
the kind fit to adorn
a connoisseur's collection

* * *

the night is dark
and lonely,
and this fluorescent lamp
my only company,
the stillness
shattered
only by the occasional howling
of an animal
as lonely as me perhaps?

how befitting
that a storm should be raging
outside too.
lightening casting
silvery patterns
on the easel above
and raindrops
dancing
to the tune
of thunder's trumpet!

clouds running amuck,
panicking perhaps
at their threatened existence,
their state
not very different
from my own!


* * *

and how ironic,
that i should sit through it all,
so very calmly,
almost divorced from reality -
surely all this
couldn't be happening to me ?

but how do i ensure
that this is but a nightmare,
until i close my eyes
and embrace the oblivion
that only deep slumber
could introduce me to...


* * *

do i really believe
shedding a few tears,
announcing bravely,
that my world is still intact,
that tomorrow's another day,
and the rest of the cliches
could bring anyone out
of abysmal wells of misery ?


* * *

this constant stream
of relationships
attempting to break me,
has only made me stronger,
and if i can't understand
this simple truth,
about life,
that if agony goes deep
so would the ecstasy,

then I
cannot possibly go on...
living,
or existing.

is there a difference ?

is
there
a
difference?

LOST AND FOUND

as i sit here
by my window
gazing
at the clouds outside
busy
conducting
a complete orchestra,
as if
and hurling innumerable
little pebbles
all at once
to create endless ripples
over the surface of the pond!
the clouds weeping
to their heart’s content.
as i to mine.

the rain came on
with renewed vengeance
its waxing
and waning
coinciding
so well
with my inner turmoil...

the raindrops spattering outside
sounding suddenly
like the hooves
of a million horses
all marching
in unison...

the clouds seemed
to be bending
under their own weight -
those pregnant clouds
relieved at last,

delivered
while i wished
i could have
myself
released
with the same ferocity...

the clouds gave
a thunderous applause,

when the rainbow adorned
the naked sky
at last...

after all its usual dwellers
deserted it -
the moon, the stars, the sun

and finally
even the clouds...

ONE MORE ADIEU

will this facade of calmness
(which beautifully conceals
the inner turmoil)
see me through
this vicissitudinous path
whats-its-name…
…life ?
this endless tale
of meetings, partings?
and in between,
the ephemeral something -
beautiful while it lasts
tormenting when over,
and leaving behind,
a dried river-bed ...
i guess,
if agony
and ecstasy,
and pleasure and pain
and rest of the opposites
must remain
together,
i too should give up
resisting,
and bow down to nature.
the conflicts
i realize
will remain...

OF MYTHS AND MIRAGES

lately
my thoughts have been veering
invariably,
towards you.
how naturally,
i unload to you
confiding
my deepest, innermost feelings,
allowing myself
to even 
weep on your shoulder,
as if
you and i
have always belonged.
don't tell me you're real...
for i'm only familiar
with myths

and mirages...

SEE YOU SOON

all those words
trapped inside me
pleading for a release,
are celebrating at last...
many a vicissitude 
had they witnessed,
staring helplessly
at the gamut of emotions -
the hopelessness
the despair
the ecstasy,
the elation...
ah, wouldn't they be glad
to tell their tale...
"where art thou? our savior divine
knock, knock
are you listening?
when do we get to meet you?"

PRISONERS OF FREEDOM

i promised to walk along
life's lonely paths
with you
but why
did i
hold onto you
so tight,
and lean on you so heavy,
that i lost myself
completely
(becoming smaller and smaller),
while you walked ahead oblivious,
wrapped up
in your own thoughts,
your needs
and beliefs...
i should have let go of you then,
but no -
i chose to drag along...

breathless
bruised
bleeding,
and competing,
with the only thing that mattered
ever
to you...
... your freedom.

A DISTURBING FORCE

that carefully cultivated 
facade
of cool composure
came crumbling 
to my feet...
as you sat
hurling pebbles
into the quiet stillness
that was me
(were you jealous perhaps?)
the turbulent force,
you -
tormenting me into a response,
would i lose in your win?
or win through your loss?
the game might end,
but i
will never
be the same again!

ADAM'S APPLE

you took me to the stars
and dropped me
mercilessly.
"its better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all"
whoever said that 
couldn't
possibly 
have tasted
that bitter fruit called love...


or was he a sadist too?

NOSTALGIA

while the diamond-laden,
safari-clad
yuppies
stood gushing
over the constellations
being projected
inside the planetarium,
the beggar boy gazed
from his bed
on the pavement
at the sky overhead...
and wondered,
what the fuss was all about!

LONELY WITH YOU

too long have i tried
to bind you,
and forced you to wear faces
that do not belong,

faces 
that i've been saving
ever since i learnt to dream.
i'm sorry i tried to change you
into someone you could not be,
and failing,
and aching,
the fault was mine, i know,
weaving
a web around you -
of possessiveness,
of love,
of romance...
i forgot that i chose you,
not
for being who i wanted
but for being who you were...
so i release you
this moment
you're free from my shackles!
i may care for you for ever,
even spend my life with you,
but i will also try and learn
how not to feel lonely…

…when i'm with you...

Words Words Words

Words
Words
Words
Your words
My words
Our words
Words raining
Words pouring
Words reigning
All around me...
I'm so exhausted by their blows,
I want to pick a dagger,
and go
Swish
Swish
Swish
on a killing spree,
murder them all,
Turn them into weightless feathers
Send them flying off
Far away
Out of my life...
Leaving me with my
Silence…
Just,
Silence…

CONTRADICTIONS DO NOT EXIST?

while you explore my body
with those smug, complacent fingers
that seem
so sure
of the response they arouse,

and while
your lips
ignite
a path of fire
as they trail down my back,

i'm busy gathering
whatever's left,

of my denial,
my resistance,
my inherent contradictions,


that force me to stop you
while desire fills my being
every time you touch me.


i often wonder
what strange streak
forces me
to resist nature
deny myself
and drag you, too,


along my masochistic path...

hey, did i ever allege
that you
were on a self-destructive trip?

well,
you aren't alone
you have company...
... me!

BONDED LABOR

the struggle must cease -
this tug-of-war
between an inner urge
and the part of me
that's imprisoned by the world.

i must win
i must break free
Oh yeah,
i haven't forgotten
i have duties to perform -
to you
and them
and everyone else.

but how come
you never remind me,
of my duty

to myself?

DAYS OF DARKNESS

the palms
(with henna
tattooed on them as if )


wait eagerly
to fulfil
promises
made eons ago.


when the fragrance
of jasmine
was still fresh
and clinging
to the wetness of my hair

and while
the mind
handles the mundanities
absent-mindedly,

the heart furiously gropes
in the darkness
of the day
that arose...


... without you.

THE DELUGE

lately,
these abysmal wells 
seem
to be overflowing
constantly...

the twin rivulets,
emerging
as if
from a fathomless ocean...

and on their lips
an eternal song -
with lyrics 
soaked
in 
melancholy...

DESIRE

i ache
as you torment me
with those teasing,
fleeting memories.
how do i deal with you
desire?

stop!

go away -
sadist desire...

ON GETTING EVEN

a broken heart
shattered dreams
painful memories
bitter truths...

who's stifling whom?

SCI-FI

the confusion
between discovery
and invention
is finally
over.


i invented you
long ago,

but only just
discovered it.

THE FINALE

a stranger,

a
complete
stranger

makes his way
into my heart, ever
so stealthily;

(muted footsteps and all)

but i live quite happy
ignorance is bliss.

* * *

and while I'm busy laughing
scoffing, and cracking,

he quietly bull-dozes
his way
all over
inside me.

each on his own trip...
i still live quite happy.


* * *

but he is not content,
no sir.

he must torment me too.

the sweet slumber's broken.

the mind is confused,
the reason's getting fuzzy,

I settle down somehow.


* * *

all seems well
the notes are right
a crescendo is reached.

* * *

the wine glass shatters.

NEWBORN

have you ever wondered
how,
with such alarming
regularity,

day in
and day out,

the same old pregnant sky
delivers

the same old scarlet son -
what fun!

LUCKY GUY

in the satiny comforts

of his plush a.c. salon

following a drunken evening

well-spent

at the coffee shop

of a five-star

slept the poor-old-rich-guy.

quite oblivious

of the dialogue

between the moon

and the stars…

those silent utterances

heard only

by the one,

stretched out

on the terrace

of his one-room-tenement…

the rich-old-poor-guy!

THE BURIAL OF PHOENIX

what transpired between her,
and me,
was surely
extraterrestrial -
transcending beyond
the realms
of story-book romances,
and yet somehow retaining
their essential nuances.

as i walk down my yesterdays,
scenes play back before me
much like cinematic flashbacks...

* * *

those walks
through silvery nights
when the moon,
though shining
in its entirety
(was yet, jealous of her radiance)

and those spontaneous halts
when she'd suddenly stretch out
under the star - studded roof,
in gay abandon
quite oblivious
of the dewy wetness beneath,

the wind continuing to play havoc
with her tendrils
(and she, with my senses)
while our murmurings mingled
with those of the stars.

* * *

how i would always be
within easy reach -
for all she had to do
was to beckon me,

in her thoughts
and there i would be
in less than an instant!
(riding on
telepathic waves perhaps?)

my soul
a slave to her needs,
and my body
to mine.

no matter what hour of the day
or night,
i was always there
for her.
(or myself?)

* * *

i distinctly remember that morning
as she stood before the mirror
poised, to stain her forehead
with the marital red…
and in that split moment
as her lashes dropped,

how i had stepped forward
and adorned instead
her image in the mirror!

and the amazement on her face
as her glance shifted
from her reflection,
to her finger
dipped in vermilion
which was yet to move!

the consternation
the confusion
as she struggled to match
my performance
with an impassive expression.

and failing ...

and then the knowing smile,
as her eyes searched
and found me,
as always ...

* * *

her eloquent eyes,
where i spotted
every emotion that i understood,
and some that i didn't -

joy,
anger,
sometimes amazement!
naughty at times,
but never, ever
did i detect, any
sadness...

* * *

how often would she remain
still
absolutely still,
wrapped in deep thought,
unmindful of her environs...

times when even i
ceased to exist,
and the reality
of my fragile existence
would be driven home to me!

could i possibly
survive without her?

was this love?

* * *

overcome though i was
with an overwhelming need
to touch her,
i seemed to be
in awe
of her mere presence,

quite like a child
afraid of overstepping his limits
and getting reprimanded!

* * *

so often would she get me
into situations so unreal
and yet so completely natural,
almost like dreams come true...

and yet
denying me on occasions…

was she really so indifferent to my needs ?


* * *

she was never once without her other companion,
scribbling away in her journal,
furiously
and with a near-vengeance at times,
drawing a map as if,
of her most intimate thoughts
and pictures,
that my infantile comprehension
found difficult to fathom.

* * *

whenever
i tried to hold her,
she slid away quietly
leaving me wondering -
whether my midas touch
was turning
this portrait of romance
into lifeless stone?

my unasked question
was answered
with an eerie
accuracy,

as the pages
of her diary
once fluttered in the wind,

revealing words
that hit me
with all their ferocity:

"yeah, i’m just a paper doll.
i breathe
i exist
and return a wooden stare
every time you attempt
to touch me.

the wetness
having long given way
to a drought..."

the rest of the alphabets blurred
as i struggled
to retain a hold
on my sanity ...

was this, as much a part of her
as the ecstasy
written all over
her face
almost eternally...

but such melancholy?

the poem continued:

"...these once over - flowing ponds
now remain concealed
behind veils of false
bravado,

and facades -
that fool people into believing...
... that i am still alive. "

as the enormity of her words
struck me,
i sat there gathering,
the zillion pieces
that my existence
had just crumbled into...

threatening to drift away
in the storm that loomed large,
suddenly before me..


* * *

had i been living with a myth?
how had i missed the agony
lurking right behind
that seeming contentment?

ah, how well, she had shielded it,
and how successfully!


* * *

while my remains struggled,
to remain together
the soul decimated
like a wisp of smoke
blown away
by the torrential winds ...

* * *

but then
characters,

no matter how
realistic,

remain merely that – characters…

nothing more,
and nothing less...

for isn't that exactly,
and all,

that i was…

nothing more,
and nothing less,

than a mere figment
of her imagination,

a customized hero
designed to satisfy,

all her unfulfilled dreams...

one of those characters
that never really live,
except in the minds
of their creators -
merely putty in their hands,

as i had been
in hers...

the portrait
she had sketched of me,

may have been life-sized -

but there wasn't enough life force in there,
to sustain me…
through these tempestuous revelations,

and as her omnipotent image
retreated,
from my consciousness,

thus too,
i retreated,

into the world,

from where

i had

emerged -

a world,

of her words…

THE LONE TRAVELLER

last night
the resplendent moon
was again in sight
upto its usual tricks -
busy making a mockery
of my carefully nurtured facades.

and thus
while the body
lay on the bed
and read
(the hypocrite)
the soul broke free
to join the moon…

now they both have company
on their lonely travails...