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...