the whys and the lies …
why do tears fall from broken eyes,
in blinding times of the lies of the wise,
when spurious tongues dribble and drool,
deeply enmeshed in the cesspool,
of me myself and i.
when hunger is leased,
venom slips through unleashed,
me myself and i,
as the scavenging resumes,
its shut-up,
and buy-buy.
walking through tombs … … …
bicycle rides to ancient tombs, stealthily traversing the bygone years,
those days and nights of delhi long ago, plucked heartstrings, a sitar being tuned, the cricket matches in the park, fetching the ball from monuments to long dead sultans, and rajah’s,
feasting on a masala-dosa, my bike chained to the rusty pole next to the paan-wallah,
downing numberless cups of cardamom chai, in between home and school, bunking classes to catch Madhuri’s “ek doh teen” song in a bollywood flick, sitting amongst the people, singing along in days and nights that used to be so full, so long,
now just a fading memory, of diwalis at the kumars, and eid feasts at home, intermingling with splashes of holi colour,
a synthesis of cultures, of faiths, of friends transcending caste and creed,
a delhite whistling beatles’ songs,
ah yes, nostalgia that sly deceiver,
be mine again, come to me in rain-swept monsoon nights, lit by a million diyas of softly flickering lights,
wear your kaleidoscope dress,
rekindling memories,
stay with me,
my eternal, evergreen, seductive princess.
Scribbled Verse 