ju after ajus

She did not look
Because the boys did
All the looking for her
For when she passed
Under their feet
the earth shook
and in their veins
the flames burst
and they were all
fainthearted on mars


in my acquiescence
is implicit
the reason why
we do what we do
because even when you propose
im the one thinking for you


I am not you
And you are not me
What page
We are not even
On the same tree

The uni after to hell and back long. And what weather to be doing this in. For to do with football my best skies to visit the place under. The sun strained the colour of sugarcane juice under pale grey clouds. But no rain. That is important, JU like most places on earth is much better with a chance of rain than in rain itself. Although I prefer people to stick to the time it is not a perfect world and when I feel like indulging my friends in their innocence of the moving hand I look at dogs. I will look at dogs if any are around, at any rate, from now on, if I can remember that I should be doing it. It happened in a stream of consciousness sort of way when I picked up share-teen of yore yonder outside the library. It was a lazy time and poor old dogsbody was feeling lazy. I was sitting across from him on the other side of the road, past bachchan family. Share-teen was sniffing the air and casting desultory glances around, although all the while he kept his ears pricked. I observed another, this one much younger and on all fours approaching from the field side. A bitch, brown. This was seen by one of a similar coat that was idling near the statue. Male. He went forward to meet her. Share-teen was craning his neck. But what’s this? A car, stealing up behind haseena. She becomes aware of the vehicle and road romeo at same time. In a clever manoeuvre she stops and turns with the car, but in an anticlockwise direction. The boy had anticipated she would cross the car in front, or wait for it to pass before she came across. But suddenly she wasn’t there. He had an absolutely bewildered look on his face. But share-teen still wore a look of apprehension. The bitch did eventually go off 3 no. gate side with brownback in tow. Share-teen looked on like Snoopy all hurt for some time and then settled down again, to sniffing the air and looking around.

red rag

she wanted to cry
after she'd been
to hell and back
did she ask herself
if such is the stench
of suffering
why they live
why do they die
or did a flower
of the sun
find herself
engulfed at sunset
by the darkest night



in autumn like the leaves fall
in winter like the snow
from green and blue the tear
drops and in the river of kings
the red flows
in the vale of kashmir

Bobodom

Now is a time bandhs don’t matter. Hell they’ve never mattered.


Why do they shout
Why are they hurling stones
How they have not a moment’s rest
Lo how well they impose this calm

I’ve been always enamoured of the bandh. But so has the rest of mankind in some way or the other. I praise it here because of our observance in surfeit of this social unifier, the universal invitation to leisure. Although it has been generally recognized that the strike is a harmful instrument of political maneuvering, in no way does the resorting to it at the drop of a hat suggest stupidity of the citizenry. After all with great discretion comes the power to let go. And the difference to the trees and the birds; the air is different, it is a phenomenon I’m sure has as much a basis in science as in romance. But yes even if the crow takes a shit on you (you missed the fine print even though you were looking at the trees) it is worth it.



What do you want
The details
Or my delight in it
Because as you might
be knowing
I’m in love