Voice of Goddess...

Was listening to Plaisir D Amour by Joan Baez...and it just occurred that I have never noticed how the quality of her voice has direct visual feelings...

"you brought me heaven right then" is like a sharp shiny knife reflecting Cosmic rays

"when your eyes kissed mine" is like the same knife cutting through butter...

"my love loves me" - the knife shredding cheddar cheese...

"and all the wonders I see" - knife cutting the last bit

"of rainbow shines in my window" -knife cutting through soft fire...

"my love loves me" - the knife squeezing in a soft, spongy cottage cheese...

I guess she has a lovely knife in her throat...and not an adam's apple!

I wish I could grow a knife in mine too...

JINXED...

I lost my black bounded sketchbook. If you ever see her, get the pages scanned for me. And upload them on Facebook or any damn site provided you are on my friend's list. I wish there were enemy lists as well...but anyway, they come in the guise of friends...bleh!

I was just thinking a few days back to take photos of my work in that sketchbook...and now it's gone! I just can't believe I have lost it...I have never lost a sketchbook in my life!

On moving the towel...

Ab mujhe koi intezaar kahaa...
The rat ran through the rain
I stared with my purple umbrella
On the terrace
Drenching my towel blue
Twinkle lights on the mosque
Woh jo thha dard ka karaar, kaha?
Wringing the towel, still no drops
But it's ripe with river
Aankh ki ek gaaon mein raatko khwab atethhe
Tak, take, taking it to the shade
Enough of the pangs of river!
Woh jo bahetethhe abshar kahaa???
What happens to those towels
Whose masters sleep asnore
When it rains at midnight
Urte khwabon ka aetbar kahaa...?

shoestrings...

I wish not to write...
For these are not the cruel flowers of April...

Feelings from the Crypt: Revisited...

(painting courtesy: Ruben Monakhov http://rubenm.spb.ru/)

I'm still with my caravan

Wishing you a bundle of joy

That clove sweet cigarrette

Left my lips rather coy

There the shipyard, ahoy!

And the crescent moon

Will be clouded soon

That ney flute playing in my mind

Have left the waves go blind

As they blindly roll over the steps...

Step by step

Tune by tune

I must perish

For these are the cruel flowers of April...

Spreading poison smell till May

While I paint my nails white

Let me sleep now

I shall wake up on Monday...

I see the light come shining...and I shall be released!!!

Image Courtesy: Santhosh Pai aka Sanpaiya

Is it art when men lie and compartmentalise their conscience???

Then it's definitely art to march into the unknown...cos' the unknown can't offer worse than the known...

Truth always brings happiness...in this day and age where nothing costs or hurts more than truth, I embrace truth...for it shall always remain with me and my people around me...

Amen...

be a rebel!

be a rebel!

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mera naam johnnie

mera naam johnnie

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In hateful memory of an Encountered Comrade

I wanted you dead, but
Never on the hands of our commonest enemies...
I would have savoured you alive and wounded
In the mind, not the flesh...
Just as you might think I am one of them
I too feel you are one of them
You conspired with the State
To take my Love away...
I hated you
With the last turn of the silencer
You have become the immortal martyr
Am listening to Raag Tori by Kumar Gandharva
I dont believe there are only three kinds of people
Like you.
He likes you. Perhaps loves even.
You didn't have to defeat me like this
But that you did
I shall gallop along now
You can haunt me and make him love you
Does death make one better?
Even if it does, do I quiver?
But I wanted you dead
Never on the hands of the State
Or of mine...

The Man and the Tortoise: A Prophecy

I love you. Not your tortoise...on whom u painted lovingly...

I know you dont....it's okay...even if it isn't...

The Address

By the busy lane, there is an address. Lives the hearty one. My tooth hurts, but it ain't a sweet one...(I am selling myself to myself...eh!) Have you heard Joni Mitchell lately? Just crossed my mind...so where were we? Bloody address. Bloody identity crisis! Last night i slept in sweat, my fan is filled with filth. But am buying lights, lots of them...spotlines and clear ones, all sorts...even twinkle lights...will they heat up my address? But thats not sufficient. For what isn't sufficient is inevitable. I am preparing for an exam that never frightens, which probably doesn't even exist in this huge blob of a Universe...

They teach us about collective deviance and expect us to have collective obedience (even dumbness) in 30, Mother Teresa Sarani. And in 40, Daley Road, it was cold, really cold, and I could call oranges mandarins, and deans by their names; there this lady slept on my bed while I shivered (with cold not dreams) on the carpetted floor...and the carpet wasn't Persian, though my student was...And there are other roads and alleys that have been alzheimered in my mind...

I can invent words...dont get shocked...i can turn addresses into empires or ruins...and i am only joking, you know...you can leave your hat on! Yes you, am addressing you to take a peek into ur head underneath...

Some addresses lament...They lament on the bare bones...I have a hard time filling forms...they always ask about addresses. Permanent and present. Correspondence of late. Am out watching a match between Mohammedans and Abahanis...you can watch Mohanbagan and East Bengal instead...I'll catch a swine flu just so i dont have to fill up immigration forms...You get masks from the medicine shops, yes that's the address...call me if you die...i lost my sim...but i can buy plenty...dial any number...try 666...or else, don't let a key unpressed. Anonimity will triumph; at last, an unknown number will get you through to the other side...Alice is waiting...follow the rabbit...