Being Dark

Dark, not chocolate dark

rather toffee dark or coffee dark

caramel toffee dark, cappuccino coffee dark

sun-kissed, honey-glow dark

russet brown, chrome yellow and a bit of cream?

may be, may be not

blushes, but never a pink blush

flushes, when deeply kissed

the colour of gypsies & tribal queens

wets a man’s dream, takes a breath away

the colour of wild fantasies

euphemized as ‘dusky’, and the closest kin to sexy

fair is fair, fair enough

but sans the depth, mystery & sublimity

of being dark, coffee-caramel-honey-glow dark.

Settling down

‘Settling down’ at 15 was to finish 10th standard,

At 17, to get out of school. 

Out of college and you’re done, said 18.

But no, you got to get a job, reminded 20

The 20’s came and changed jobs

But settling down seemed far

Get married, that’s the trick, said 24 with a taut deadline

Come 25 and a half, did that too

and the silver jubilee of life just went past without ‘settling down’!

the 30s came and mellowed the edges,

make a baby, they said, don't you want to settle down? 

May be that's it and I made two,

Yes, that did settle things for a while, 

Because I didn't have the leisure to think. 

They cry, they crawl, they sit and they stand 

and then howl as they reach the nursery door

Uniforms, books, alphabets and numbers,

Slowly you forget who you were and what you want

And may be that's the whole gist of settling down! 

Layers

Like Shrek said, people are like onions, not that they stink & make you cry, they have layers.

And unlike onions, it's not the same throughout, it changes as we go deeper.

May be like a flaky crust with warm, goey butterscotch inside, or a pretty cupcake with air bubbles inside, depends.

I have layers ranging from plain cookie to chocolate fudge & peppery tabasco at times.

I know of people with pink cotton candy hearts inside death metal exteriors,

flamboyant rangeelas cuter than teddy bears & Miss. Red Velvet whose bloodiness can scare Count Dracula. 

And there are the insipid ones. Like a khara puff, all puffed up & looking important, but as they say, a flake.

Same as what you see. Inside, outside. Insipid, boring & painfully plain. 

The flakey ones, they doesn't stop there, they go on to become flakey fakes.

Holier than thou & sugar-coated, with sprinklers & silver balls.

& hollower than thou inside. 

This world is not a place for dreamers

Read not child, read not

don't let the voices get inside your head

don't let your imagination take flight

don't go to Hogwarts & Narnia 

and never ever try to find Neverland

Never know about happily ever afters

and far far away lands

Hobbes is just a stuffed toy & stars gaseous matter

felines, canines & bovines are animals & don't emote

english is a language for communication

and poems are written by jobless fools

never let anyone put thoughts in your head & better still never try to write

the world needs logic, process & understanding

you have to rise against odds and be at the top

never settle for happiness, fools do that

compete and battle for life

& for the next iPhone

for you have to eat, sleep & die

know about current affairs, know about money

know about politics & have a say in these

books are for fools and escapists

who act smug with their vocabulary

& their love for Garcia & Murakami 

steer clear of all this & be practical

for this world is not a place for dreamers

Cured

Smiling lady with dirty dreadlocks

Dirty torn saree but the happiest smile

eating peanuts, standing in the sun, her smile would seem brighter

she can be seen in the temple, near the hotel, on the roadside

Last seen, her dreadlocks have become tangle free

oiled, greasy, it hung limp

her torn saree has been washed

her smile erased

her eyes sad

her brow creased

I watched her, my mother said

" she has been cured"

of her smile

of her wildness

of her madness

My Kochi

Again we went,
to see the land lost in time,
marked by dates centuries apart.
The trees, churches and ruins,
inhabited by folks from folklores.
We went to seek the pleasure, which only the fort holds within.

On rented wheels, we roamed, two free spirits.
Loving every lane, loving every sight.
The rain put a stop every now and then,
to give time to muse & wonder again.

A day that went so fast,
with a rain that came to last,
we bade bye to the magic land.
A last glance silently whispered,
we'll be back, for we cant part!

The Worm

In a garden lived a tiny worm.

When he saw a flower bloom, it itched him.

When he saw a butterfly, it itched him.

When the bees buzz, when the crickets sing, when the snail slugged,

and even when the rains poured, he itched hard.

He itched badly. 

In his miniscule ass & pitiful testicles, his vile mouth & whiskers.

Foul mouthing others to anyone who'd hear.

Little did he know it was his own venom that is itching him.

His pitiful, non-existence eating onto him.

And all it takes is a footstep to end his interminable itch.