Surprise

I need a blanket strategy
to deal with surprises
once for all.
Surprises round the corner
should stop surprising me.
And the ones that creep in slow
Should hurt from the start.
I also need a face
to surprise surprises
with unsurprised calm.
And I need to know the new corners
where old surprises lurk.

Untitled (February 27, 2008)

As I pull the crisp white blanket
Over me
In a strange hotel room,
Thoughts of him creep in along.
They lie faithfully next to me
Each night,
Crumpling only my heart
Not the sheet.
They leave no trace
No footprints,
Except tear trails that dry
By the night.

Premature

In the world of either-or,
Singlehood's not spared.
It was given an option
Between being a sharp knife
And a letter-opener.
My third-space fascination wanted both.
I got to cut open old memories,
And the knife kept at bay prospective ones.
But I haven't learned to see in the dark -
I end up cutting open myself
Along with old memories,
And threaten prospective ones
With the blunt letter opener.

Moon-struck

I always blame them on the moon -
the cross-country rides of my heart.
The moon is to blame
When I fall into the slush
and when my knees scrape
on deadly curves.
Moon is the reason for breakdowns en route
and detours are somehow the moon's fault.
But when I see the moon
cloud-draped on power-cut nights,
I give her the whip and dance to the lashes

Letting go

To really love you

Meant setting you free

From my love’s tentacles.

It meant to untie myself

From your feet and let you soar.

In your kind backward glance then,

My love stands vindicated!

Clumsy

Talking to you
is to me
like eating spaghetti.
I roll and roll
my thoughts
and feelings
through and between
incisive word-forks
and never give up
before having them
fall
all over me
leaving adamant stains.
Strangely, this always leaves
me hungry
for more

Viswaroopam

Sea at my feet
Sun on my chest
That's how tall I am

Threads of Conversation

Between
what you didn't say
and
I didn't say
I weave my cocoon
Now
I boil myself so
You could see
The silk
Our silences produced

For a Friend

We are like flighty, old mirrors
To each other.
In a comic reciprocity,
We stutter like people on first dates,
But without the need to impress.
We have impressed each other so much
We have had to empty
Our receptacles of impressions everyday.

Years of loving and laughing
Hardly help like plays rehearsed.
Every time, we improvise
And surprise.
Every time, the lines change.
And if they don't, the jokes fall flat
Or - this is the best part -
We laugh at non-jokes.
I caught myself thinking today
Of what makes us grin so much:
We don't know each other;
We don't need to. To know
Is not a requirement.
Not at all.
Being clueless helps our love.