Wound up

You keep saying I stumbled upon you,
And made you my disovery,
My pet project.

And when I was but all straightened up like a scarecrow,
You’d fix the lever on my sides,
So no one else would know
That I need winding up.
So how long do you think I’ll work?

How long am I supposed to survive,

Having repaired you?

A mile of silence stretches like the smell of an unpaid debt between us.

Will you collect your tears and send this way?

I once loved a girl and felt she was slipping away,

Into unchartered territory of self doubt,

I couldn’t care less.

I wouldn’t always be there.

You smile at unknown faces

I spread like the day over your clouds

We can together,

Be the memory lost to the skies.

What did you dream of, tonight?

When we’ve spent ourselves over books and our favourite music,

Do you think anyone of us really wants to die?


Leave the clothes to soak,

The relentless call of monotony,

Seeps through cracks in the window panes,

With the sun,

I am running out of breath,

I am oscillating between what I need and what I want,

In turns.

If I was hanging by a thread,

Would you pull me over,

And tell me this is not how it’s supposed to end?

Set the clothes to dry;

What happens inside these walls,

Leaks like tendrils of a moneyplant,

Into the outside,

Where you snip it off.

Let not the neighbours know,

We’re letting go.

Fetch the newspaper from the front door.

The songs that I hum,

Creep out from beneath the gates,

And rolls down the driveway.

You park the car just over its prints.

You’re trying so hard to make them believe,

We’re in a happy marriage,

Even though there’s decay within.

Are we home yet?

Did we take that right at the roundabout?

Where you kept telling me we’d be fine if we didn’t go by the book,

Of how to set us right,

That home was around the corner, just out of sight.

We were thinking of different things,

Like stars that align in shapes only for our eyes,

And how the albatross of good signs has spread its wings,

And left our side- I see indifference in the way you steer us out of tears,

I see the ghost of normalcy growing into my biggest fears.

We were talking of how it hurts us and

How it bothers us so,

When one of us takes for granted,

The love that once I could find by the lot

In smiles

In laughter

In carefree cuddles and the after taste of my lipstick on your tongue.

In the smell of your skin against mine,

Like raw hunger,

It now throbs inside my veins in anticipation.

We are lost in the company of one another,

You and I.

I grow impatient,

You’re trying to accomodate me like an ocean makes space for a lost stream,

I just want to come home,

And lose the stiffness in my shoulders,

Lose my breath into yours,

Lose my sanity into your arms.


I guess we are irrevocably lost.


We don’t listen to the same songs anymore.

Last I heard you were so animatedly talking about someone I didn’t know.

I keep quiet through the night,

While you’re humming a tune I never heard before.

Here I am wishing we’d never sleep so far apart,

Waves of the bedsheet folding onto themselves,

Spread between us in an ocean.

If I leave my arm free unencumbered,

What are the chances you’d know that this is for you to hold?

I’m not caving in,

In this war of words,

But at least I’d keep on believing you led me on,

And you’d think that too.

Can we share the same song,

Listen to the music rise and drop,

Until I can’t tell if its the beats or the thud of my half baked heart,

Can we skip a breath at the same time,

Listen to the heaving of our chest,

Until it’s us,

And our song.


There was once a woman and she could be you,

A good eight and twenty, and fertile too,

So quick to dismiss her were her people set,

They repeatedly asked her if she had found a catch yet,

She took a sigh as long as the syllables in this line do.

A woman must marry, if you will,

Marry and bear children, to fulfill her destiny still.

That when she slept she dreamt she was falling,

Into the abysmal abyss called marriage that she was stalling.

Oh she only heartily wished to eat to her fill.

What has a woman got to do to let everyone know,

That it’s one life we have been spared and we ought to live it so,

To work or not to work is the question,

To work as a mother is a maddening situation.

All the voices around her needed to go.

So one fine day she said yes to a man,

Tried keeping a straight face on the stage whispering ‘Yes I can’

But hell broke loose when she realised after that,

The guy wouldn’t let her bring the cat!

So there’s still a woman so prime,

She lives with eight and twenty cats and still no man.

My Cat’s religion

It’s hard to tell,

If my cat is hindu.

She wasn’t born saffron,

And isn’t growing up to be either.

So I’m skeptical.

Yesterday I wore my saffron dupatta,

And it seemed I was straight out of a political party campaign,

But I’m not canvassing votes for anyone I swear.

I just wore a beautiful vibrant colour,

Previously unencumbered by the mood of the nation.

Is this really what the country wants?

This is a non political post,

Don’t put words in my mouth,

And interpretation in your heads.

Behead all the trees,

So splattered green,

And colour the sky,

Gawking in your face a rebellious blue.

Everywhere I see and I can only see labels,

I see rigid opinions in all hues.

Sometimes my kitty is white against the wall,

Sending out catholic vibes,

Or ku klux beliefs I don’t know,

I’m not brave enough to ask her why she’s so adamant in what she thinks is alright to think,

Even when it is cruel.

Sometimes she arches her back and doesn’t revere the little photographs we have of gods and goddesses by the puja room,

I wonder if she thinks I’m an infidel.

Does that give her predisposition away?

But when I’m by her side at night,

Her countenance all zen like,

I think she’s taken to me,

My baby,

And does not believe there is a god,

Especially one that wants you to maim, lynch, kill, burn and torment the people painted in other colours



Peering out of slideshows about friendship,

Where did you find that song I can’t bring myself to remember the lyrics to?


Smiling out of photographs of a wedding party,

Where did you get hold of the novel I’ve always been asking you to read?

Sometimes I can’t sleep without having listened to hopelessly romantic love songs,

For that one milisecond my heart will want to jump out of the rib cage and be where you are,

Like a face on a cloud I’ve been noticing every other day for some days now.


With dust settling on them as if they were left out in the sun without a roof

With curly hair and a mischievous smile,

Like greek sculptures



They always keep reminding me of other people with similar faces,

As if I’m 50,

Having lived half of my life,

Having met half of the faces I am destined to meet.

My own,

A distant blur on peoples minds,

Mine is like a water painting,

It strikes you as of its a work of art.

But its only colors drying off of a paper in the hands of a pauper.

I am already beginning to settle like magical dust on the spaces I no longer occupy.