Clouds..

The hands of time closing in on her eyes..
Dead petals balking in acrimony..

For..
she once was a young..
gardenia bud..
Brushing across the streaming ponds..
swaying with winds..

Refusing to leave her willow..
She escaped to the reveries..
of the jilted clouds..

Weaned... in her wilted abode..
She fell prey to the earth..
Adorning the hall of reverence..

The candles flickered to the hum..
Of an Old Carol..
Beholding the benevolence of the Lord..

There..
She found her clover leaf..
Her place in solace and solitude..

~
This one's dedicated to Sushi...
Love you always :)

Auld Lang Syne..

The demure star
made love
to
the whisps
of
a night
so apocalyptic
knowing
it will
break
into a dawn..

A soft season
of
hopefulness..
shrill
and faint..
Cremated
with
the creole
they sang
once
lying in arms..

The July rain
sank
on
it's knees
As
the silence
streaked
down
her
livid
naked
cheeks..

An insatiated
edifice
the whirlwind
left behind..
over
the
stone chair
by
the garden..
Decorous air
set
love-leaves
afloat
to the sky..
Even as
the Moonbeam
stole
them away..

She sat
by
the temple
of time..
The snow
this December
turning
lemon wet..
with
the
Whiff of Spring..

She..

I met her by chance..

That night I saw the stars leave the sky ..departing...as her laugh tinkled...sparkling across the cosmos..
and..
I froze in my words..
She painted a window across the shadow that day.. With colour boards and mood boards splashing her warmth across the walls sketching me a festal delight.. I wished that time to see her.. maybe to unforget an unfinished letter I wrote once.. maybe to reminisce the path tread when I spoke to her on my way back from Santacruz station.. maybe to adore the soul inside her..
A timeless sunshine descending into people's hearts..
The mauve zephyr along the eastern coast..

Tempara..

An old mountain
calls out..
to
the Mural
sparkling
like
a ghastly skull
which
tendered
it's breast

An old moon
gazes
at..
the contemptuous sky
resembling
an incomplete
sonnet..
longing
to be unfurled..


The Oldest
worms
squirmed
her fresco..
Her eyes
their imaginings
of
a pasture
golden..
with
glee..

Fervent Afterglow..

The smile stricken air..
stained
his poetry
on her nimble lips..
And..
he tasted elixir..
breathing
her inside of him..
She fell
across
the crimson meadow..
turning it
a plush virgin green..

His touch formed
ripples..
feeling..
Soft trembles..
Moanful laughs..
His bite
frozen
on her moles..
he smudged
the kohl
in her eyes..
as his tears
became her wine..

Eyes
rustled against
her softness..
as..
his
raven shadow..
succumbed..
to
nocturnal witchcraft..
stroking
her heart..
with
a wild acacia..
where
the moon set..
upon
the petals..
quenching
it's thirst..
with
sweet passion nectar..

Illusion of a Cinnamon Girl..

Bewailing..
her innocence..
The werewolves..
moaned
their brittle octave..
Erratic in despair..

Burgundy waters..
licked
the dinghy
catacombs..
The illusion of her
reeling..
In a whirl..


A pathos
fragrant..
With the minstrels words..
Worn toes
blinking
At her grave..
as
He wavered..
weaving
A song..
from
the frozen letters
on her lips..

A bombed bay..

All the offices are open .. atleast most are..especially on the western lines!

I don’t care ..Get back right now!..

I can't.. I’ll call u later…

The line goes dead forever!

Is this "still" Bombay going on? This eve..the light that has torched up the monumental Taj…”shines” over the graveyards while 100s cry in bereavement.
One spirit.. One Mumbai! …Or is it One fear?
Bullcrapping of the apparent spirit of Mumbai as constables tried to combat the attack equipped with merely wooden sticks!..For 8 long night hours till dawn came by (somehow)..men struggled to understand the gravity of the situation! NSG finally arrived …and the fire raged on…for the next 50 hours...

I saw people I knew.. die today..
Faces I had seen…blood splattered across streets..nameless corpses being listed until :
their relatives
give a clue..
a name..
an address..
just something to identify the people…The numbness has left me..it's all a void now..maybe..
It didn't feel as fearful to be 4 feet away as I saw the taxi explode in front of me at Santacruz..as much as it feels right now..
too see..
to look ..
to feel .....the apprehension..the camouflaged expressions as people struggle to fight their senses..

I saw people hide behind cars .. trying to take shelter in the shaded gory blood-stained footpaths..taking one step at a time..

And ...
Bombay stays ..helpless…under the most fierce and horrendous siege it could ever come across..with bodies lying around..the smell of death still making me sick inside!...

As a senior TOI journalist screamed out.. “Lets have goals.. goals we can probably fulfill.. Goals we "need" to fulfill.
India seems to forever have a forgiving attitude towards everything we come across…We seem to be proving the Third worldly attitude ..while aiming at a First world economic growth. Here... we don’t have our city's forces equipped with good bullet proof jackets ..we lose the best of our officers to terrorists who've come in with enough RDX to blow apart the entire Colaba....and... We dream of a Shanghai Skyline..???....Appalling and Preposterous!”

And as he spoke it started raining… much to the surprise of most Mumbaikars…
November Rain?
Maybe.. maybe the skies wanted the deathly fire to die out too.. Yes it did.