Distant Dreams

The birds that flew across the bridge
and swans who swam across the sea
Never knew what they were doing unknown
To make the unseen harbours see.

There were trees who drank the same water
and breathed around the same moist air
and grew on the same land, same oxidants
fed same robins to sing the same prayer.

Still they never met, never they knew
How the other wipes their tears off
How the other makes faces when angry
and throws tantrums when in grief or shock.

For who lends the shoulder when one cries
and who pats the back when achieves one
and who is scared of which demons
and who soothes their sleepy morn's.

Because what matters in a shiny day
is maybe the joke that's played along
But one who gives a lift in a rainy night
is the one for whom the feeling's strong.

The harbours had the same ships running,
and the same songs of the kayak-drives
But in order to come to real terms,
they had to do more than daily rhymes.

For they both dreamt of a day ahead
when the sun will shine and children play
and swear on the tears that they might shed
that together they'll make, what they say.

Madly Bangalee

There were dreams in the world we used to live in,
there were green mangoes to steal
There were hidden books of rotten literature,
under the big fat Daniel Steel.

We heard Pink Floyd where we got high
and Scorpions when we laid low,
We heard John Denver on our way back home,
and read Shelly when we missed home.

We had Tagore's lines rote in mind
to use when a friend was cheated
We had Sukumar Ray to make people laugh
when trysts of life were met.

We knew enough chords for a rainy day
and more jazz music to dance
We knew poems of Nazrul when blood fumed
after a Rand De Basati trance.

We knew and defined the meaning of friendship
and never left the hand we held,
My Bangalee roots stemmed myself
to become this perfect blend.

Passing Phase

He was alone when she walked by
silent breeze on the passer by
Like it blows him off his feet
from where he stood on the street.

The wonderland awaits, or so he thought
For the umpteen romances he has sought
Taught him to dream and not loose hope
and reach a high can take no dope.

They held hands, they took showers
they talked about buds blooming to flowers.
They lied beneath the martian sky
where only angels are allowed to fly.

She thought the time was way too fine
The knight is here and his armour to shine
He thought if not the mermaid be
Together they can make a perfect We.

If they only knew the rules of the Saturn
Permanent at best, can only be a pattern
For change is the new law of life
It touches like a feather, but cuts like a knife.

Footsie

It was a known ground
and the rules acknowledged
It was a known battle,
the enemy only changed.

We were both trying hard
to fit the shoes we didn't try
The shoes maybe worn before
maybe strewn, sworn by.

We didn't know what to do,
but we knew what to not
We traded along on the line
of letting in and letting out.

The message was loud and clear,
The tone had to be delicate, though
For there's no fun in playing
footsie with stockings on.

Apprehensions were part-life
rest were.. hope and pray
To play the known game with new opponents
is always a grass- tad bit gray.

Snow Pastel

Chunks of snow pelting from the top
But humbly wets the roads when touching the earth
Flurries hurrying like running out on schedule
Slippery sidewalks prepare for the slush.

Thirty minutes of pure ecstasy,
White pieces of joy pasted on us
High-rises look hazy through the rain
Horizon seems to a Grey hairline.

We could smell it, it marked us with chalks
Caught us off the guard after the eighteen degree mark
Parting kisses that the winter blew us
Only the romantic will know the reason why.

No sunshine today, no windchill to hide from.
No ear-cups are around so the wind touches the skull.
I've got warmth in my pocket from last night
Will walk through the ice and alabaster light.

My sunshine.

Wrap me around like a warm towel, like kid out of bathtub.
Warm me like the hot-water pipe that runs in the chilly downtown.
Like a mother's hug, like a brother's pat,
Like a yellow spread-out cricket field in some northern county..

(When the ball came looping from high in the sky,
the fielder closed eyes because the Sun was too bright.)

Like a quilt you get in stale air conditioned hotel,
Saturate, warmify or sepia our lives.

Like a father's hug when the son scores a mark,

Shine on you crazy diamond... light up thy spark.

End of War.

You shoot me. I shoot you.
Our bullets stick to each other,
though we hardly do.

I curse you. You curse me.
Our street-fights are welcome home
though seldom are we.

You smack me. I smack you.
Our egos throttle homes rattle
though (the) battles continue.

I kill you. You kill me.
But there're no flowers or Shiva's to go
(as) the demon is set free.

We all wanted sunshine. We all needed rain.
We all were living just as Franco saved Spain.
Truth were nude but nudity was legal
Food was the cause to fight, life was frugal.

We spelt it wrong. We didn't get the takes.
Some call it an end when the brake breaks.
My bullet will end you pal, your bullet mine
If both of us press the button, ain't be any spine.

Weekend

It's a wonderful wonderful evening.
Breeze wiping the last of week's toll off my face,
Unsettling hairs that was parted to perfection for the drama
that unfolds every toiling day in varied ways.

I feel fresh, I taste the last sweat before it evaporates.
The last of the facade that was worn everyday with utmost care
is shelved back, waiting to be washed and dried.
It can rest a day or two, so can I.

The smell that runs through my nose doesn't originate here
but is somewhere in the old country, back home.
Where they still feel the fire's spark,
when the meat chops are fried and cakes baked.

The sound is abstract, largely dominated by the basketball bumps
and friendly banters. A few cars start off for their downtown destination.
Families meet over dinner, mom gets to see her daughter studying in high school
where a few oldies regurgitate their memories of a soccer game.

It's the day we waited for. It's the start of dream that we dreamt for forty hours.
The planned sleep goes for a toss and we catch up with loved ones staying afar.
Plans roll for the coming days with rejuvenated zeal.
A few beds are cleaned, others, get ready to be messed up.

There's a lovely hug I see, I see holding hands.
I sense dad's getting me the special coffee.
For today has been dreamt too many times,
for even a moment be missed.