Friday, September 30, 2016


Hurried glances, a passing touch
Eyes that look away and say
so much.

Palpable tension in a shared space
Condensed lust packed
in a suitcase.

A stolen kiss, a picture bait
Tingling skin, restless
to satiate.

Private rooms abet a stormy thresh
Broken beds, and sweaty

Tender goodbyes, lives resume
Till it again gives in,
to consume.

Friday, July 01, 2016


I broke
And I broke
When you broke
free of

The shards still
and bleed the nimble feet
of my memory of

We are together now
in body and spirit
and child,
Ghosts of your great love
every jaunt we
inhabit, as

I write this, smiling
at the rain that
pours and lines
my skin
as you exist in you lover's
thoughts and lust
and in real life, in

Monday, February 15, 2016

Tu kisi rail si

Sarmistha coughed with abandon. After all what were a few more germs in this smog filled city. Propriety be damned. She was covered with grime and dirt, that accompanied a visit to the local supermarket these past few weeks. The supermarket premises were undergoing some sort of bridal renovation in anticipation of Diwali. It involved much concrete breaking apart and old bricks being taken out to make way for new ones.

"Typical," thought Sarmistha. "Celebration preceded by breaking, followed by a bevy of bills."

The walkway leading up to the supermarket had parted to reveal the precariously dangling electric mains, just beside the leaking pipe mains, waiting to come together in a very municipal blaze of glory. Sarmistha had managed to walk around this dystopian ditch with two bags laden with groceries.

Just as the bout of coughing ended, an auto-rickshaw pulled over beside her. She haggled and got the fare down to its usual rate - 20 rupees more than it actually cost. The auto started off with fervour, only to be held hostage by the traffic cop's outstretched hand.

"Damn, I am going to be late again."

Tu kisi rail si guzarti hai,
Mai kisi pul saa... thartharata hoon.


"Yahan pe cigarette peena mana hai... "

The six foot two giant glared at him. "I am going to get punched. Again," thought Vidyut. As his hands instinctively went up to protect his face, the man stubbed out the cigarette, threw it on the floor and walked away. Vidyut picked the stub up and looked at it. It was yellow, bent and warm. "A measure of personal rebellion or a glamourized suicide note? Maybe both. After all, rebellion is often suicidal."

Vidyut threw the stub away and checked the time. The bus was no where to be seen. The chaotic jumble of people at the bus stand was pulsating with mundane life. The enveloping cacophony of car horns, rumbling engines, hawker calls, cell phone conversations were all its bastard offsprings - begot without thinking and  cast off the next moment. 

Vidyut elbowed his way into the crowd of people waiting to board the bus, as it appeared at the horizon. The mad rush for that first foothold on the bus steps left him panting. At least, he had boarded.  He checked his cellphone again.

"Late by 30 minutes. Still no message."

Tu kisi rail si guzarti hai,
Mai kisi pul saa... thartharata hoon.


... to be continued ...

Sunday, November 08, 2015

Kano megh aashe

Moner janala dhore oonki diye gaeche
Jaar chok taake aar mone pode na,
Chey chey koto raat din kete gaeche
Aar kono mookh tobu mone dhore na.

I saw you once, just that time
bathed in the simple light
singing what madenning tune,
my heart, mad, in flight
dancing to your soulful rhyme.

Baatash bohe mori mori
Aar bedhe rekhona tori
Esho esho paar hoye mor 
hridoy maajhaare,
Dnadiye aacho, tumi aamar, 
gaaner opare.

The lilting song, that mesmer
of your parting gaze
lifts and are you still
in my synchronous daze?

Jaro laage phiri aeka aeka,
Aankhi pipashito nahi dekha.
Taari baanshi, ogo taari banshi,
Taari banshi baaje hiya bhori,
Jaagorane jaaye bibhabori.

Now you haunt my blood,
flit in my sighs and form
my desire to love more
your bequeathed, flood,
in rebellion to the norm.

Thak thak nijo mone doore te
Aami shudhu baanshoriro shoore te
Porosho koribo or prano mon, okaron,
Mayabono biharini.

Distances dwell in space, you
are sewn into the ether.
Strung in my wordy whims,
are your memories, so new.

I touch those memories on days like this.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

You give me rain

You give me
in the raging calm
of my dry heart.

You give me
in the sweaty lines
meandering on my palm.

You give me
in the sunk haggard
recess of my skeleton jaw.

You give me
in the curt, edgy creases
wasting on my shirtless self.

You give me
in gasping crimson veins
pulsing around my choking throat

You give me
in the curled, gooey folds
of my jagged simmering heart.

You give me
in the lively, playful sins
dripping from distant dreams.

You give me
to wait in dark aisles
circling shadows of lust.

You give me
in the dry heart
of my raging calm.