Saturday, December 26, 2009

Pellets for Christmas

The canopy of hollow paper stars
of Christmas
with coloured bulbs inside
dangles from the roof
The sky is a silly dark deep
devoid of colour of any hue
The days’ drinks
hastily drunk in secret
plot a chart of dull headache
The night’s sleep is lost
against monotonous drill of hymns
of those singing out aloud
pleading the un-hearing Gods
Certain red stars in the distant roof-tops
became the mocking signs
in letters to my father
leeching on years of sweat
Those static ominous stars
Hark! the arrival of three un-wise
the following day
displaying pellets of lead
on father’s shivering hands ©

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


In little meandering droplets
they slither unseen
in factions of poetry
in shards of crystals
of the boiling spring
bringing tales of the dark earth beneath

You brought me from your tales
some of your tears
I came with mine
To meet you 'tween
verses of timelessness
To forget times that left us
halfway on a broken bridge
standed on a cliff of concrete
moulded by this very hands

Slumber swallowed evenings
found us dreading the soft dusk
when the hour arrived
asking for a conclusion
to our chronology
We left with reluctance
hand in hand
to seek another time
beyond time ©

Thursday, December 10, 2009


Is that love that wake you
On cold winters
to immerse yourself in the icy waters
of the mirror-like pukhri

Is that love that adorn you
With chandon on your nose
And phanek asengba around your waist
To immerse yourself in mekrup

Is that love that warms you
near the lei rung
When you lay a separate pukham
Serving him the choicest morsel

Is that love that heals you
When he drags you by the root of your hair
And blue blows rains on you

Is that love that created me
When he startled you
By saying you would be going home
And send you the following day
With rituals and parents

But is not that love
When you cried
Remembering that sweetheart
Who dedicated a song of heartache
On Tabiningba esei
Your first evening in a strange new house

pukhri-pond; chandon- Chandan/sandalwood;
Phanek asengba- washed sarong/ pure sarong. Women are to wear such 'undefiled' / 'pure' clothes during worship ceremonies
mekrup- type of incense;
Lei rung- hearth;
pukham- plate with a raised edge
Tabiningba esei- Can be loosely translated as 'favourite songs'. A popular radio programme of AIR. ©

Monday, December 7, 2009


My promiscuous hair
Bound in a tight knot
Veiled from my Itei
Lest the scent of Chinghi
Wafts towards him
Enhanced by the earthy smell of slight cowdung
Effusing from the moist chakravyuh
Marked by the span of my arms
Around the silent scented tulsi

I prayed twice a day
With incense, water and flowers
For the heavens to drop
A thick noose
Knotted with sudden stars
With the moon for an audience
To witness my escape
From this Chakravyuh ©

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Notes on a beloved friend

I narrated one night
a story of mine
over the sound of storm
brewing the night
breaking the soft limbed frangipani

You kept not
Buried under layers
of that stormy night
the story of my heart
deep in yours
You sang my songs of anguish
of sepia tinted evenings
You narrated my tears of ecstasy
in stories of amusement
You dragged from beneath layers of blankets
tales as deep as my slumber

Only my companion in pain
Distilled those tales
With the soft melody of her voice
And dyed me with her fragrance ©

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


_was the solitary podon
amongst the dark fumes
lighting up the tattered notes
exchanged in the keithel

_was the multitude of wrinkles
amongst the frown
creased deep into the farmer's face
watching the horizon
for pregnant clouds

_was the expanse of sky
distant and silent
after a piercing cry
when the ordeal was over
and they left
one by one
in a singular satiated grin ©