Dieting

The thin bodies of models
Tease from advertisements;
While I try walking, running
Skipping, skipping meals,
Doing whatever I can,
To get slim and sleek.

But the chocolate cake beckons,
From the nook at Spencer's
So does Crackle and Five Star;
Not to mention the ice-creams,
Fruit salads and carrot halwa.

When I see these delights,
All ideas of dieting lost,
The dream of a thin body,
Purged of its extra roundness,
Lost amidst bites of sweet,
Forgetfulness.

So I binge more on sweets,
Think of exercising tomorrow,
While days pass one by one,
The models tease from ads,
With their thin sleek bodies,
But they can't have such delights
The way I can live on sweets.

Madness

The pale hairy hands stretch from a white coat,
A falsely made happy face enquires about you,
Was it yesterday that you had screamed aloud,
Asked for euthanasia and that you want to die,
While he looked worried and showed you
Pictures of shapes and spaces and flowers
Describe this: You told him of Carl Gustav Jung,
About Freud and what you have read,
Anima and Animus and the theories meant,
The male creative spirit in the female,
The female creative spirit in the male,
The pictures that Jung used to treat people.

The doctor ordered the nurses to sedate you,
Till you remember nothing of Jung or Freud.

To a Lost Self

Like a strain of music, long forgotten,
You were lost somewhere along the way.
The song that you were faded in memory,
Only to resurface all on a sudden.

That song that you sang so beautifully,
How you could make a garland with tears,
With songs and tie it around my neck,
Suddenly played upon my lips unaware.

You and me were strange and unique,
Who were happy just by being together;
We could gaze into each other's eyes,
For hours and still be happy.

Now that years have passed after the song,
Even I know how to tie garlands with tears.

Home

My home comes to me as an image,
Mauve-coloured walls, clean floor,
A dream that we all built together,
With prayers and with lots of effort.

It lost its value only because of me,
One erring step of mine crumbled.
The beautiful interiors, sunlit walls,
Floors of white remain unexposed,

Often I think about unlocking it,
Just to wander through its space,
A sacred space, mine, ours, yours,
Now remains locked to all eyes.

The day of your rescue isn’t far,
When time will heal all rifts.

2 a.m.

The hospital smells of disinfectants.
Outside the ICU, a watchful crowd,
Waits on the chairs and on floor,
Crouched on bedsheets.

They watch the door, open and close,
Every time, as the duty nurses,
Whisper the news of change-
Death or recovery or medicine.

Each time, the ears listen,
Sleeping men and women,
Sit up and listen to the name,
The nurses utter this time.

This time, the nurse walks,
Towards a dark frail girl,
Sitting for days together,
In her crumpled pale sari.

She screams "Amma"
Falls to the ground weeping,
As her father mourns quietly,
Her sobs shake her body.

Now and then she screams,
Utters the word "Amma",
Looks up with swollen eyes,
For the approach of more news.

The stretcher is rolled out,
From the ICU, by staff,
Her sobs grow loud and wild
At the sight of her dead mother.

For days, she had sat outside,
Meeting her mother twice a day,
Three minutes at a time,
Her sobs are muted by tiredness.

The eyes, where life flickered
And love shone is still and closed.
Denied a word with parting spirit,
She retreats into a blank silence.

Meditation

What wonders have time brought, All at my window. The numbers keep changing, Every day new life springs, Out of old ways of thought. Oneness with the universe, With a thousand kindred souls, Spread across the earth, Space and time and universe. Sitting before my gizmo, I wander with delight, Through snow-covered landscapes, Gather in my curious hands Sheaves of snow-sprinkled wheat. A bird spreading its wings, The earth from space or a tiny flower A thousand scented candles- All new ways of bringing me back, To my centre, my self- All at my window. 

Yellow Rose

You stand with your head high,
Smiling at tempests and winds,
Where was your mettle born,
From the sun, the earth or wind?

You have a lovely rival in love,
With a sceptre in her right hand,
Lovely foe, with eyes like a doe,
Who can but sing your praises?

A love that never was cannot fade,
Unlike one known and discarded,
From the fiery elements it was born,
From the ancient fire of ages.

Yellow rose, now sing me that song,
That you sing when you want to cry.