When the Trees Sleep

She walks past the stares, the comments and the whistles. As she climbs the ITO overhead pedestrian bridge, her watch finds its way out of the three layers she's wearing, to show quarter past ten. Each step of the stair is a mere inch above the other. Huddled, as if to beat the chill in the air. In the auto she takes to Barakhamba, the chill battles on .To victory, as she spots a shivering old beggar hunt for fallen peanuts that have escaped the million shoes that tried to stomp on them, as they lay, unprotected, and without claim. With each crackle of the peanut shells, the beggars body crackles too. His blanket has more air pockets than wool.
She looks to the right. Towards the metro station. Two men, both twenty somethings, one is curly, the other straight. 'Do people with curly hair have curls all over their body?' she wonders. Curiosity decides the potential mate. She laughs. The number of desirables increases. Deservings are scattered. Its like an entrance exam, she thinks. And smiles at the pun.
The metro ride is uneventful, except that she thinks of him as the lights change direction through her reflected face in the window. Notices the difference between the two. Before-After pics in the head. Smiles. Vows never to let out the comparison. Men, she thinks. Morons. Bad bargain, most. A hint of the dream for faking it day after day. Not done. She thinks of him again. Too free. Too free to care about anything. Anyone. She realizes she wants care. But fun too. He won't be both. She thinks she'll try, to give him a chance, as he professes to remedy the wrongs she knew he'd do. For a moment, she dreams, in a fatigue induced half sleep, that the both of them are lying, heads up, in their own butterfly wings, on an empty white beach, at "Forgotten Is., Population: 2." She wakes up, zips up (jacket), gets ready to walk out.
But there are still 7 stations to go.

Jailbreak

Its dark around, pain inside
somebody has chained me in a cell
four walls and three windows
the dark gray of gloom

the walls of reinforced expectation
the bars of unbreakable conditioning
the floor of impregnable societal farce
the roof of titanium pretension

open the windows
the moon drifts, its rays
slashed to pieces by metal bars
fall at my feet and hit my head

they give me hope,
strength, courage, but...
can hope, strength, courage...
make flesh break solid steel

close the windows
no moon, no stars, no ray of light
no hope, no strength, no courage
a placid solitude of a wait

for death? no...
I want to live,
wait for the promised sunrise
the jailbreak that will free all

deliverer, deliver; messiah preach;
prophet, show the way; somebody, anybody
come to the rescue
save us from the creator of this prison

does he even realize the torture on us
does he even have a name

wait! yes he does...
what does that plaque say
this prison created by:

'Myself.'

I laugh aloud, so loud
that the walls crumble
the bars melt, the roof gives in,
the earth shudders, in celebration.

who am I? I’m the walls,
I’m the windows, I’m the moon,
I’m the hope, I’m the messiah,
I’m the free, I’m the unlimited.

The Black Army Boots

there has been much
lying farce act hypocrisy

there has been much
blood gore murder war death

there has been much
anger fear terror apprehension

there has been much
free thought locked up

there has been much
silencing of screaming tongues

but the faces still scream
the eyes still burn
the feet are still restless
the hands are still quivering to retaliate.


they burnt the face of my motherland
they said that I asked them to pour the acid
they said I respected their reason.

but how can I respect
their killing my brother?
mother father?
looting my home?
snatching my life?
crushing my dreams?
with their black army boots...

with their guns and bombs and tanks and planes
with their uniforms and their war-paint.

are they blind?
a child cannot fly a plane across the ocean
a child cannot build bombs to kill millions
a child can only run
when they bomb his family

but the child will grow up
and he will remember
what had been buried under the years
they will fear
for they had killed his innocence
when he was still a child

his eyes will burn
his hands will quiver to retaliate
he will swear
to crush their dreams,
like they had...
with their Black Army Boots

Like a Winter Breeze

This, was written 30 yrs back, for a beautiful woman.

It really incapsulates her whole life in that small moment. A moment.
Though small, the poem has a beautiful lingering effect. Considering that this was done in 2 minutes, as the woman came down a flight of stairs, I can only imagine the level of authenticity and grace the writer must have had. Also, an eye for common place, yet deep emotions.



Like a Winter Breeze


Like a winter breeze
On a summer eve
Or a summer storm
On a winter morn
She comes, she comes, she comes –
The little angel,
In her disguised human form
A hopeful smile
Dripping through her rosy lips,
A silent speech
Unfolding her secret thoughts,
She pauses,
Searching for the invisible
If she finds, she’d be found
Or else, she’ill be lost to herself
And to the world.

Honestly

Honestly,
I lied to you
I lied to you
I forever have

Follow me
to nowhere
I can’t break
these metal walls

All the truth
got lost
in what I think
to what I say

Hypocrisy
the face of me
in everything
I care to touch


Knew my lies would make you happy
How could I see you cry

So I lied.