Good Letter Gone Bad

My last letter was too brief,
Your reply: deafening silence.
Did I give you much too grief?
I hope it had made some sense.

It was not much more than guys –
Guys whom I don’t really stand;
If they raised some how’s and why’s
In your mind, can understand.

Letter was born in a past
That had not yet seen your call.
Phone call of your job at last:
Reason why you now stand tall.

You were so excited and
Giggle, bubbly, happy boy.
(Life is just a flowing sand;
We make castles to enjoy.)

What did I do? Sent you one
Sheet of paper – blots of blue.
I clouded a bright sun;
Sorry! For not having clue.

Now I sit and wonder when
I sit under banyan tree:
Whether it was my fault then,
Or if you just are not free.

Unexpected was when you
Invited me to your castle.
Overjoyed and afraid too
Was if I would be hassle.

I would like to make it clear
I’m glad you are in my life.
Chat-ter, laugh-er, friend one dear –
Cut not this knot with a knife.

A Day in the Bemusement Park

The day before the yesterday I went
To watch the rides of new bemusement park.
I sat in seat of love alone in dark;
It came to life and into sky me sent.
There, up I flew and through the clouds too bright.
No fear – I caught a snowflake in my palm;
The air, the rush, serenity and calm.
I shrieked & waved to birds; they smirked on sight.
Confused I turn and darker sky I find
And also found me still with colder blood.
As no more was I flying, I fell behind.
The snowflake turned to tear as came the thud!
I made a noise; were people disinclined:
Alone, collected shreds of heart from mud.

(My first sonnet! I wrote it by reading rules online. It is one, innit?)

Wintry Happy New Year To A Long Lost Friend

Temperature has dropped to three
Steely winds roar in streets free.
People don’t leave beds in fear –
So we usher in new year.

At 5 am, world is blur,
Can’t see even thy neighbours.
Heaven is walking through fog
More when truck collides on jog.

We do collective shudder
Thinking of bruise in winter.
Wound is numb but heart is warm;
Thinking of you soothing balm.

Fond memories, carefree you,
I wish I could save it to
Pen Drive to sit and rewind –
Olden days are rare to find.

Time is straight scary arrow
Stranger than stars and Tarot.
When I think of far future:
You by me when need sutures.

I foresee watching with your kids
Hopping madly, doing skids
With my own set of children
Playing in park; off they run!

And you strict, grumpy parent
Stomping on the merriment
Drag you out your kids from mud;
While dragging, you fall with thud.

Park is numb for seconds eight
Gives you time to hallucinate.
I would step out then out straight
Walk you out with half a weight.

May the new year turns out just
one year of decades robust
during which we still find us
Conversing without a fuss.

The Wounded

I do not usually explain my poems. But this is one of my older ones. Usually I throw away the poems I make; I send them to a friend, say, and will not bother to copy it back. Or put it as a comment somewhere never to be found again. But I have this one because I had entered it in a competition… and won!

It is written in exactly 377 words – according to MS Word. Those nuanced in Indian LGBT scene should know that Article 377 is a very nasty law which prohibits unnatural sex – interpreted to be anything other than penal-vaginal sex – and on ground used by police to harass LGBT people. It has a tumultuous legal history too; the 147 year old law drafted in British colonial era was decriminalized by Delhi High Court in 2009 (applicable to all of India) but Supreme Court reinstated it. The latter judgment is widely regarded as one of the worst reasoned judgments that came out of SC in recent times. In that spirit, the competition was titled ‘Constrained by 377’ and here is my poem without further ado:

The Wounded

Delhi has it never seen
Power cut so deep and sour.
For three full days it has been
My life’s darkest hour.

I have been home all this time
With my parents and sister.
To them I confessed my “crime”
On the bannister.

Back on first day of the cut
Confusion and chaos ruled.
Next day anger shot up but
By evening it cooled.

By the third day chaos looked
Like a new monotony;
It was all fans, teas and books
(People act funny).

Third day evening we all too
Gathered for the evening snack:
Tea brew, soup stew, laugh ensued
But I sat all blank.

I suddenly interrupted,
“Father, mother – need to talk.
Sorry I have disrupted…
Please, you do not balk.”

Father stopped supping his soup;
Mother looked very concerned;
Sister laughed – a nincompoop –
Stern looks rightly earned.

Every single eye on me
Their piercing glances stung;
Buzzing sound of only bee
I sat, got tea-drunk.

Caffeine gave me boost of sorts,
I started, “I am okay.
If long story is made short –
People, I am gay.”

Breaking china, more silence.
Breaking hearts, more buzzing bee.
Atmosphere really tense –
Gods, please swallow me!

No sound comes from sister young;
She forgets to close her jaw.
Mother has on tip o’ tongue
Numerous questions though.

Yet first to speak was father,
“Do not be a fool, my dear.”
Did he really not bother
To acknowledge my tears?

Tears – oh! – they had welled up
very soon they turned to tide.
I put down my angry cup –
Stumbled, ran inside.

I do not know why they never
Followed me into my room.
Lonely, I cried in despair
‘Twas my day of doom.

I woke up at three A.M.
The stars too had not set.
Clung to me was darkness and
Pillow really wet.

Everybody was sleeping.
I tiptoed to get some food
When I heard mother weeping;
Strangely, I felt good.

She was sitting on the porch
On the very same chair.
Glowing in the dim of torch
Far away nowhere.

Inch to her was like a mile
Her I didn’t want to console.
I had suffered all this while
Revenge was my goal.

Things I Will Never Know

There are things you will never know. I am sitting cross-legged on a bed with a blanket laying carelessly across my thighs and sprawled ahead in front of me – the space where my laptop and Nancy lie – open and crumpled, respectively. But you will never know it unless I tell them to you, nor would you appreciate that I face the door and the darkness entering through the door makes the fully-lighted room a bit darker. And that a thousand and one cords are attached my poor old three USB ports. And that my room is a mess right now. I can see the bits and pieces clinging in places… our brain making room for the room in your mind for a cupboard behind me and a night-lamp which hangs upside down from the wall directly in front of me.

There are things that I will not know too. I saw how a visitor from US of A was mentioned in my stats. Was it the president of the country? Or my love Norah Jones? Is that visitor my die-hard fan who keeps checking my page every other day or so anticipating a new post? Or is it just that iPad of a person just blanked out while they were opening WordPress and in the desperate attempts to bring back the screen, the person just randomly pressed here and there on the iPad – and somehow landed on my page registering oneself as an unsuspecting visitor (the screen might still be blank and the iPad running and my homepage might still be there behind the dark screen + a possibly sad person).

There is so much that we do not know. My professor used to define information as something that we do not know and wish to know. I used to laugh at this definition. But I do not anymore. There is so much data in the world. Is all of it information to me? I am not so sure now.

And then there are things I will not know now. But I will know them five years hence. There are so many questions in my mind. I have a dysfunctional family and I am a fully functional delinquent in it. My mother asks me not to let Nancy on the bed; she is there anyway. Where would I be in next five years and when will I lose Nancy during those five years – she is 10+ years old bitch right now. And then would my mother be living with me? Would I have come out to her by then? And father: how will I be able to ditch father, separate father and mother, and remove mother’s loneliness? Questions to which I need answers. And the questions of which only time is the answer.

And then there are things I will never know because of the man I am today. I never had a father whom I could love without reservation. I have always had a sister whom I have always admired. And I have always had a mother who looks after me and will do anything for me. So when I see gay people marrying a girl, I just cannot relate with them. I understand the disconnection in our circumstances but even upon trying, I fail to see how one’s current relations can affect their lives. I just thank Gods that I have got family and friends who will stand by me. And then maybe people who do not see logic in an argument: I have seen people dig up mirth on a person which would be tens of months old and which doesn’t relate to the matter at hand: ad hominem attacks in plain sight and without any guilt. I, a person who has always appreciated logic, even though I am not always ruled by it, cannot see how people behave in so drastically different ways. Or maybe I still do not know the laws by which humans are governed.

But, then the laws too are something that I might never know. And thus only will be how I would die.

Limericks + Free Kicks :D

The bathroom was being used by me
When doorbell had stung me like bee.
Explained to the roar
Of father on door,
That bathroom was being used by me.

My father was not so amused.
He showed me left shoulder was bruised.
I stifled a choke
And cracked poor joke.
My father was not so amused.

He looked at me with angry eyes
And twisted my ear to chastise.
I cried from the shock;
The pain was a rock.
He stopped looking with angry eyes.

The pain was still ringing my ear;
I saw father laughing – I swear.
Left shoulder he shrugged,
Suddenly he hugged,
While pain was still ringing my ear.

Writer’s Block and Big Blue Bag (Part I)

Four hours back I could not talk

Suffered from a writer’s block.

Visited neighbour quack for cure;

he said treatment was obscure.

I decided then to roam,

Leave the four walls of my home.

After all, the summer’s pain

Had faded in pre-monsoon rain.

Belly full and mind empty

Perfect disaster recipee:

walking in the night and breeze

hoping some idea I would seize.

All I got was stares cold;

Turned out clothes were way too bold

for Rani Bagh to tolerate;

5-inch shorts are not so great.

Yet I egged on farther still

As my goodwill went downhill.

It was distraction not needed

I’d lie, say if went unheeded.

Though I marched on being confident,

My nekkid legs their own way went.

My scatterbrain was more scattered

was nothing single that mattered.

Written in passionate prose

There’s still something no one knows.

I possess a big blue bag;

since forever, I should brag.

It has letters old and new

That no one else except me knew.

‘Coz I write them from me to me

‘Tis a nonstop soliloquy.

it literally had my heart red

which was cut out from me and bled.

It now is of pale blue colour

A husky-ball would be warmer.

How red to blue has turned my heart

Would be told in another part.

(to be continued…)