It is  raining here
there and There.
Maybe we all have
the same stories to tell.

You left on a dull day.

There was no rain
no storm.

A red car just
sped past me

And fragrant rainbow
spilled petrol

Now that you are gone
Loving you
is so much easier.

The pale morning
sprays mist upon
the gray and green.

Let the tea kettle
hiss on -
whistle on.
Stay warm beside
draped in me.

Tearless - Awake

Yesterday you were here
And today as
the blue curtains flutter
moon light sleeps
on your bed

How much I love
Strangers
at night
Fresh flesh - skin - cologne
fresh white bed sheet -  starched
Fresh smell of orgasmic sweat
Different each one
From the rest

How much I wish
you were a stranger tonight
Old songs silver ash
like strangers we part
untouched by change.

Beach Friday

smell of dried 
fish and salt 
the grey sea
ancient basked 
under the sun

children picking
sand in little 
cupped hands
him and he 
once measured love 
using little silver cups 

I wake up tired
The first winter morning
and the chilled north wind brings
aroma of fresh belgian chocolates
in a large box full
of desires longings
and loss

Clown's Dream

Monday night he went to sleep thinking of making love to the newly wed neighbour. He was also thinking of changing the whole world by this one truly original idea and as to how incredibly popular that would  make him.
He imagined how he would pose for the photograph that would appear in the morning news paper and how he would  smile at his ex-lover during an accidental encounter at a dinner gathering.
He also thought about salvation and detachment. But then, he wanted a few more
frivolous days of worldly futilities such as these.

I chased lust
then lust chased me.
Smoked an angry cigarette
against the wall with
lewd graffiti

It was the Flu I think
that made me pale
as wax.
The lover stood beside
the bed
lentil soup with garlic and
pepper I had asked.

I was restless
Desiring a green
open ocean
as the sweat soaked
bed sheet gathered
million crease marks.

The large juicy leaf
of the money plant
turned yellow in the
beer mug.
November yet to come.

In the morning I think
they played Chopin's Nocturnes.
Maybe, the Vampires
danced in the sun.

Read a few selected
pages of the book
that described in
a few pornographic lines
acts of carnal love.

This book, like a brick
supported the left edge

of the shelf.
Someone who borrowed it
long ago
had rounded the corners..

Suddenly then
a renewed hatred
and utter discomfort

After lunch
a few hours of
disturbed sleep
and television news..
I could hear children
playing football
in the park.

Yesterday
I recovered.


Smoked.
Brushed.
Had coffee
and got a little cut
near the lips
while being narcissistic
during  the
clumsy shaving act.

Today I cleaned my desk
and washed the old
flower vase.
The sun is bright outside
and I have
so much work

Yellow Chrome of the
betel leaf face
and Kohl painted large
slanted eyes
disppeared
under the opaque
grey water

Only orange flowers
floated amidst the
quiet whirlpool

And then they returned
with ther drums
seeking assurance
that the world would
be the same
Next year

Somewhere here
stood a tree

He knew the name
that I forgot

The tree is dead now
I think  and

This place has
gathered years of rust

they lit up chandellier
in thousand light
and the incense smoke
fills the sky




chandellier
incense smoke

Fragrance of Chhatim
intoxicates
the lonely walk through
Evening mist

The heart conjures
the dead tears
and the Shehenai
weeps behind the veil
of lamp-lit streets

Diego played the Accordion
Ming served coffee  hot
I read my Evelyn Waugh
and the world around revolved

The more you  drowned
me in wine
The more I swam
through the black ocean
of your eyes glistening
I am, but one fish
Oh! Lets just sink

When the owl hooted
and crickets shreiked
book finished
I went to sleep

All night under moon
silent tears fell like dew
At dawn they parted

Tired day, parted hair
Sly rain made my
white shirt wet
and everyone stared

September is gone
I drink my morning coffee
listening to dawn

Pearl of her ear-ring
then slipped down black satin
Lost in green grass field

Fog hazes street lights.
sudden North wind
chills the boy
sweeping fall's  last leaves

!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!


Its winter again
woolen scarf
orange yellow
This snow shall melt too


!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!

        (1)

Spring rain
sudden green.
Yellow moth seeks shelter
under money plant leaf.



        (2)

Slimy moss -
dark blackish green.
Large fish chases tadpole
fisherman sings.



         (3)

Sea waves green
bottles of wine
Sick little girl feeds fish
Green aquarium

A dust storm
from arid land
once, long ago
plunged upon
her green groin
and a Lily
was born


The cemetery
now crumbles
into dust
and disappears

like a childhood
city where
rain never stops
for a second
Ever

I want to tell you
just one thing

Not now though

let it linger  till
spring paints the
field with green

But then, you would
by then
know it all

*******************************


As he died, his first love
stood loveless
near the bed
Then she returned to work

Steaming tea kettle
whistles autumn songs.
Ailing lover dreams

#############

They made love
without undressing
warm winter dawn

#############

Spring flowers
pillow prints fragrant
lavender evening shower

#############

Last puff of
cheap smoke.
The silver djinn
dies
against the taxi
head light -

Anonymous

Against the wall
dirty
large shadows -
their nose, elbows
and knee joints

the bud
the boots
smashed

shadows of them
and us

The alley turns
into the city
lights
and sunny beach

where tomorrow
sunday
fathers and children
will build
sand castles

The smoke from
ciagarette
lit up and vanishedanonymous cab
went past

Do the brown leaves of autumn
still fall behind this wall ?
Do the gypsies ever return ?

Escher's floor plan

Which came first
intoxication
or sleep ?

your sketchbook
lay on my chest
like a moth
now Dead

and in dream
I ran through an
enormous maze

where is the
music room?
our
hidden solace..

Dried bay leaves
one or two
crackle into
fumes

and the

Large brown snail
stays still
against the
moss

Such pretty flowers everywhere.
Emerald oceans and
such azure skies

Lover melts in embrace
like chocolate
whispering poetry of
summer storms
and autumn nights

How tough it is to create
when  nausea of happiness
shrouds the soul
frozen fingers
numb to write

He fell asleep under the
flickering candle flame..

Thinking ...
he will start writing

when his heart is heavy with love
or, when the next big war
breaks again.

Why ask me
to wake up - work
and get things done ?
I will drink tea now
and play flute
in the evening

Pekoe Orange
Purple dusk
Flaming desire
Fuming love

Lover's arm
Lotus stem
Souls dissolve
Summer rain

Midnight calm
Moonlit skin
Silent sounds
Songs breathing

A dull September
brings rainy fragrance
of winter nights
and moist
passageways.

On my way home
hiding a loaf of bread

when - under
the neon sign blue

they spoke so much

And i had nothing to tell.

This is my usual journey
The Express train
Tedious - and regular
evoking vague nothingness for
Two Hours.
The page of a book
cheap milky coffee
potato chips
and gazing into nowhere.

Today an Angel like Beauty
sat so dreadfully close 
And didn't even look at me
once during all those boring
hours - Empty

The silly one-act play
As the profane sadly woos 
beauty - in Vain
A fantasy oozing
lust and bad taste
and ofcourse as
all tragedies end
in another death

These days all my nothings
are being filled with sadness
and restless intoxication s
flooding from everywhere
relentlessly
in this soul less suburbia

The Narcissist


He tried to desire others
he tried ... he tried
but then
people
were

grossly impoverished
mediocre and ugly
Or
beautiful and
way too superior

The wild lonely
flower
his
only solace
was  the  other him
sunk  inverted
in water

Boys Do Cry

It was long ago
when he was a child
and hated text books

Every time pearl like tears
oozed out of his eyes
an uncle an aunt or maybe the
rickshaw man who took him to school
would say
"BOYS DON'T CRY "

It took him some time
to know what it was
to be a BOY
and then
to be a MAN
and he knew
it was not right to
have eyes full of tears
with uncles
and aunts
and
yes
friends around him

But I have seen him cry ..

I have seen his eyes glisten
under the darkness of night
or lonely walks through the
mad
love-less
urban shadows

Amidst the lonely
Festival crowds


in love
and out of it

Someday, I wonder
all his angst will form a
large rain cloud
and a deluge will
drench everyone - everything

I'll hear him silently
scream
YES I am a man
and I do Cry

Even the white Parliament
Looks  so green
Through syrup bottles

And broken radio
commentaries on
test match cricket

men in white
play in the fields
open green
and the street vendor sleeps

Water Colour On Silk

In this wooden box
Green
preserved with care
were,
selected memories.

Yesterday, 
carefully
taking off the lid
Thinking of drying the letters
after the damp drizzle

you know how rainy
it has been.

An angry angst of
Black Moths
fluttered out
into light .

Worried,  
Anxious,

fingers
cut with rust.

The
water colour on silk
had turned to dust.

Under the Grey dome of June sky
Alone.
Met Office and his
jaded soul
had yesterday
proclaimed -
Depression.

But then 

The shining blade of
the rain drenched  grass
Green and youthful
Beautiful and proud
oblivious to all around

Something
struck him with wonder
and
Embarrassed,
and embraced by
happy melancholia

he sang a
Rain song

Intoxicating was
last light's moon.

Waking up at noon
delirium  -  confused

Oh !

At my door
wearing green
first monsoon

If only you dissolved in me
like salt in ocean water
inseparable lovers we would be
and the world would bathe in us

Coffee -
the nausea of waking early
Why talk using metaphors ?
Why pour slimy poetry ?
Don't you know what
I am talking about ?

The scribbles - the wall - the ugly
its all just about me

Poems from those days
now lay unloved on the wooden
table -- still moist from last
monsoon

And

the songs still carry
the faint fragrance
of eucalyptus bark
and familiar colognes

Come new rain
Bring new songs
Bring new poems
Bring flowers white
that no one ever saw
just for me
will you ?

From this place
to that
lush hills
dry flats

He traveled
enough
and for long

Taking a pause
he thought
its time now
that I rest
and listen to
some song

but then on his
table wooden
a letter waited

with rain and
breeze from
distant land

and a new walk
began

Photographer at 55

He lived in a forest
in a wooden house
One that smelled of Birch
and tobacco
cherry pipe

The woods had wolves
and he lived alone
Beyond the hills
shady gloom
memories lived
like money in
some bank account

No
It was really a studio
I mean
If you walk down the living room
you'd brush against
curtains green
chequered.

then at the door
a jump cut
to blackness
and
red light
and Ilford
100 ISOs

Yesterday after a
moderate storm
when the wind tracked down the
walls
and the candle flickered

The black telephone
beside the
large photograph
He wished for
the other side
the 30 yrs ago
where a smile was waiting
to say
I'm proud of you
artiste my love

he knew he was quite
a dilettante though

next came rain
and the candle died

and late that night
when the wolves were hunting
he dream't of
Saraghina

32 searches 23
in the mirror

Once he hated
cockroaches
INTENSELY
and loved the
long train
journeys

now the creature is
just a mere insect
and transit times
short and thin

what else could
death mean ..

one hundred years ago
the moist sky -
the black still ocean -
your eyes
Monsoon.

After the storm
cello and flute
Noah's arc
yellow green
and butterflies
fluttering

3rd of may
your teeth
pomegranate seeds
painted lips
brown chop stick
white porcelain -

a crooked fork
with a broken tine
coffee cups with
cracks of time

And
sour lemonade
garnished

with Grey moths
with large
stiff wings

Like a coffee shop
life has been
MEGH thought
while reading
comics

With
people coming
chit chatting
and leaving then
of-course

Leaving nothing
except the faint
hope of the
rendezvous
next one

familiar
acquaintances
some pretty ones

And
rainy days
crimson suns
maintenance
required
shouts everyone

And at night
the last dish wash
all the fancy lights
goes off

only to sleep till
next newspaper brings
fresh fragrance of
brewing coffee

when all that seemed
truer than life itself
vanishes as obviously as death
one can only say
"it was inevitable"

The leaves that fell in
last night's storm
wept to sleep
like hungry children

News ink

bicycle bells

As I sip my tea
and my Kolkata awakes
Kanchenjunga is
Turning Golden

Coffee -
the haze of morning mist
Tuesday.

Restless
in the dark
I didn't notice

a fresh coat of paint
that this wall needs
Or

Did this ugly scar
just happen
last night ?

4:35 am

in another hour or so
there shall be light ..
I know

Some old watchman will wake up
to the sound of alarm clock
and say
"let there be light"
and there would be so

I am not a morning person
but amidst all the chaos
I love this bliss of certainty

Maybe, the next step is
just the start
of another circle
And a circle has no end.

is death like sleep
or
is it like waking up into light
is it cold
or
is it warm

The storm did come
but the heap of dried leaves remained
Only to ferment in the rain

There still remain
a million poems untold
and colors new in the artist's palette
and remains so much love
and deceit
and so many
new stories to unfold

Manj Khamaj

The shelf had dictionaries and
poem books.
Books colorful
and looked good.

Green - the yellow sun
painted the wrinkled bed sheet
with a Spring of youthful lust

and the
burnt sienna of your parted lips
shivered with soundless
utterances of
love

Ménage à trois

It could be
coffee - cookies and chocolates
or you - me and a raging monsoon

Drenched in June
first monsoon
the muddy path turn
into mist

And a purple evening
dripping green
foliage moist
gloomy hill

Monastery bells
and clouds rumble
wrapping tight the
shawl woolen

chilled and numb
desiring warmth
where are you
my hill station

of love

The car sped
wilderness dark
And - neon lit
dusty rain - on
windscreen glass
running up like
fanatic sperms
ready to fertilize

million words
cloud around the broken nib
and a shadowy verse
seeks his poet

tired evening - sleeps
gloomy morning - wakes

Caffeine - azure sky
Cigarette - Grey ocean

the one word
the one moment of
epiphany

is missing
is missing

3'o clock - gusty wisp of
sudden rain
splashing water splattered soul
moist earth - earth worm

slate Grey noon
smears black ink of night
of rain songs and dripping drops
of smeared thoughts
fragrant past

traffic light green
traffic light red
umbrellas black
and spilled diesel
smearing paint in
thousand colors
city in rain
city in rain

when a million angst
in gushing torrents
stream down the
lonely paths
all that remains
A beautiful phantasm
or a melancholic void ..

HE KNEW

"is there love ? "
the lover asked
He knew there was none.

the loveless face
like rainless cloud
proclaimed silence

no battle was fought
and no bloodshed

but instead he -
vanished into a purple
haze of April flowers

and then there
was sunset

Carnation red
lips pale Blue
pour more wine
I 'll think of death
Tomorrow

Now that it starts to rain
if you play Chopin
I'll forgive you.

Every drop of monsoon rain
bleeds the megh
to wintry death of first love

In your land of
April Flowers
Rain from emerald seas
wept my tears

Here

The evening fell like
A vulture's feather
upon the carcass
of dead soul.

TURN OFF THE LIGHT
TURN OFF THE SONG
EVEN RAINY JUNE
THEY FEEL LIKE YOU

********************

THOUSAND STEPS TO
SEE THE RIVER
STARRY DARK DIRTY STREAM
BROKEN DREAM

*******************

TIRED EYES TIRED LIMBS
LET ME IN TEMPLE PRIEST
COME TOMORROW
FRESH AS DAWN

RAIN


WHICH JULY WAS IT
DO YOU KNOW
HOME BOUND SCHOOL BOY
SOAKED SCHOOL SHOE




SHE LOVES SUCH DAYS
GREY CLOUDS – POURING RAIN
BLACK CROW TATTERED WINGS
NEST BROKEN




LET IT RAIN
SEVEN DAYS- FLODDED EARTH
WHITE FLOWERS
GREENY BLURR




JULY POURS WILD RAIN
BLACK GLASSES RAISED CHIN
SHE FRETS
UMBRELLA FORGOTTEN




SMOKE FILLED ROOM
AUGUST OUTSIDE
LET US DANCE IN RAIN
AND THEN DISSOLVE

SUMMER

DEATH IF I THINK -

THEN SUMMER MONTH

YOU IN BLACK – READING

ENDLESS POEMS

ANGRY SUMMER

PARCHED FOR RAIN

MUNICIPAL OFFICE

WRINKLED MEN

MAY IT WAS

CAME THE KING

DIRT AND SWEAT FILLED HANDS

MY HUT UNCLEAN

SUMMER IS HOT AND DRY

STRANGER MY WARRIOR

TAKE REST

ITS EVENING TIME

WRITE LETTERS FROM

SUMMER LANDS

IN MY TRUNK THEY DRY

THE JULY MOIST RAG

SUMMER

DEATH IF I THINK -

THEN SUMMER MONTH

YOU IN BLACK – READING

ENDLESS POEMS

ANGRY SUMMER

PARCHED FOR RAIN

MUNICIPAL OFFICE

WRINKLED MEN

MAY IT WAS

CAME THE KING

DIRT AND SWEAT FILLED HANDS

MY HUT UNCLEAN

SUMMER IS HOT AND DRY

STRANGER MY WARRIOR

TAKE REST

ITS EVENING TIME

WRITE LETTERS FROM

SUMMER LANDS

IN MY TRUNK THEY DRY

THE JULY MOIST RAG

SUMMER

DEATH IF I THINK -

THEN SUMMER MONTH

YOU IN BLACK – READING

ENDLESS POEMS

ANGRY SUMMER

PARCHED FOR RAIN

MUNICIPAL OFFICE

WRINKLED MEN

MAY IT WAS

CAME THE KING

DIRT AND SWEAT FILLED HANDS

MY HUT UNCLEAN

SUMMER IS HOT AND DRY

STRANGER MY WARRIOR

TAKE REST

ITS EVENING TIME

WRITE LETTERS FROM

SUMMER LANDS

IN MY TRUNK THEY DRY

THE JULY MOIST RAG

SUMMER

DEATH IF I THINK -

THEN SUMMER MONTH

YOU IN BLACK – READING

ENDLESS POEMS

ANGRY SUMMER

PARCHED FOR RAIN

MUNICIPAL OFFICE

WRINKLED MEN

MAY IT WAS

CAME THE KING

DIRT AND SWEAT FILLED HANDS

MY HUT UNCLEAN

SUMMER IS HOT AND DRY

STRANGER MY WARRIOR

TAKE REST

ITS EVENING TIME

WRITE LETTERS FROM

SUMMER LANDS

IN MY TRUNK THEY DRY

THE JULY MOIST RAG

45 degrees and rising

Scorch me burn me - my summer sun
I love you still more than July.

Its a Monday
and start again
I shall -
from -
one, two and three.

Buy books a few
and curtains red
lamp shades and
coffee machine

A box of pencils
green and black
a dozen pastels
and note pads

obtuse incandescent
yellow light
yellow walls
empty nights
triangle shadow
varnished frame
Photographs - hang
black and grey
tilted

shadows dance
in candle light
flickering smoke
cardboard box
tobacco - cherry pipe


On a Tuesday
sudden monsoon
The morning rainy
moist with gloom
coffee shop tea
Darjeeling chay
grey city and grey sky

page mark three
and Mahler's seventh
books unread
oceans seen
rumbling cloud
hills unseen


Cigarettes and
magazines old
slow day eats
the lonely afternoon

As i gaze through
watery streets
blurry people
everywhere
faces known
lights familiar
shadows new
strangers forever

As I start again
from
one and two and three
with a certain joy
certain glee
a certain glimpse
through window pane
someone had stopped the rain
when radio plays a certain song
loved I once but not
any long.

Infidelity

The stranger clasped
by your serpentine limbs
drenched you in rain.

From the distance of your
far-off thoughts
Loved you
my friend !

Love and Illusions

Evening train whistles

away into the night

This Too Shall End

Coffee shop red

Summer sky blue

Dry parched love

We both cried once

a thousand tears

now I don't know you

Every wound

Every drop of blood

Love again – I shall.

A million stars burn

I hate as much

as I love

summer radio sings

who loses who wins

past lingers

This summer shall pass

Rainy July too

Next April – Lavender flowers.

Afternoon – sultry and wet

half naked siesta

dull day ends

Cigarettes and beer

the drunkard sings

it'll rain next year

Lustful heat – summer sweating

making love

or fornicating ?

I think of you

when I read

My old handwriting

Don't go there my friend

It ain't

Any better

cycling in rain

fragrant and green

happiness

You are close – sometime,

sometimes far

I am numb

Now I love summers

more than weeping rain

Metamorphosis.

Napthalene and woolen clothes

Black eyes shiny

and Love – childhood.

Wrinkled skin

park bench wooden

I'll see you there – sometime.

Another night of

falling asleep

Ceiling rectangular

eyes closing

I dream t of

roaches and slippery floors

a gallery – painted yellow.

Slender arm and fingers long

watery eyes

water colour warm

Bookshop shelves

Blue Red Green

smell of paper but

I wont read .

Brushing teeth

wake me up

tea is ready

Why did you kiss and

poisoned me -

Love

stranger

where will you go

the journeys just begun

Eyes met once

window light and wild stormy hair

next station it was Night

I'll colour my hair burgundy

and dress up in black

I'll call it my birthday

The coffee turned black

and bitter

your eyes had it all

If I could cry like

never before

maybe you'd vaporize.

There she goes

goes again

someday she'll smile

Long showers – large towels

soap and foam and shaving cream

of Man and Men

Jasmine and voluptuous breasts

and incense sticks

of mothers

and Women

You are my woman

or my man ?

My sky

or my earth ?

Wont you ? Wont you

love me ever ?

It is impossible

I know I know

to love

when you don't

There is no storm

Nor no major thing

How Will I Forget ??

For all that matters

The author decides .. at the end

Who lives and who dies..

He thought, it was queer indeed
When the dreary summer twilight sank
into a dim quiet darkness
And a dusty uproar
of distant wind
brought fragrance of Parsley leaves.


Drunken and mad it ran left
and then to right
lost and hasty
Unable to find ..

A little sparrow in his kitchen
in his Big city
Had once cried ahh FREEDOM !

The colour of freedom was this magnificent steel grey
The crooked pipe - the lusty eyes - the flag crimson red
he remembered - an old revolutionary friend.

He thought it was queer indeed
that the neighbors shut in glass panes
no shelter .. aww the stranger rain !

he stood - arms outstretched
and closed his eyes
Rain was imminent but never arrived.
And he knew
In his mind

Such waitings never end

It rained though, late that night
The moist pale moon from clouds behind
Saw him dream of
Paper boats and flooded greens
And thought it was queer indeed
That
A boy of fifteen could love so much.