squirrels holed in a banyan.
back-scratching the trunk
to own music.
exchanging souls.


......

catch the day early
in its quietness.
later, the city cries.


........



switched off tv.
turned off lights.
stiller than bodhisattavas.



.......



chauffeur alone,
with the car.
owner, alone, at the bar.


..........


having taken over the house
sparrows chirp,
hopscotch.



........


new moon.
full moon.
sun trifled.

an elephant slapped a crow
for picking its food.
the crow filed an fir.
the police cuffed the elephant,
questioned it, died.
the crow flew into exile.
elephant sent an sms ---
sorry, fly back  ---
to the misplaced mobile of
the crow drunk in a bar.

...........


watering earth and air at kurampala,
silences were shoplifted ----
from wells, stands of bananas, coconut palms,
rice stalks, tapioca greens, rubber trees,
other silences.
nights, slept to cricket cracks,
moon and clouds in a reality show.
for a happy while.



..........


four nepali youngsters
wipe tables at alleppey.
unknowns in knowns.



...........

mary nair,
shankar wankhede ---
lepers awaiting prayer cures,
pillion-riding believers ---
taped to churchwalls.
"god blesses me, always,"
assures mary nair,
nair gone,
leaving mary speaking english in style.
"may god bless you,
good day to you,"
chimes she as faithfuls drop coins into
her rag-coloured soul.she learnt english in africa
worries about grandkids.
a bearded smile  ---
shankar wankhede in a saffron turban;
from bhandara, has two strays.
not a short story,
a novel,
an essay,
a poem,
a press note,
they don't contest collections.
on amavasya nights,
absent street lights,
the two, framed, in the folds
of a beedi's glow.

not being of the same warp and weft
a murukkan-stained smile queried
from under a jackfruit tree:
"ishtapetto (like it)?"
"o (yes)", said my friend,
managing a stumble on a crooked, mud track.
84, in a white mundu, blouse,
a thorthu fronting ample breasts,
madhavi kutty pickets memories.
claims she:
the jackfruit is my age,
leftover from a crowd axed for seeding rubber.
a yakshi has her home guessing times.
a lingering clasp of lips behind the jackfruit,
her loving chettan,
tickles her to a chuckle.
prescribed a distance by karanavars
(it has shrunk, yet remains),
working in ricefields,
a cup of kanji someday,
a saucer the next,
but never together.
the track was a water-way,
the fields bore rice and tapioca,
there was day,
there was night,
there were laughs,
there were tears.
sloughing customs, flaunted a red flag.
hammer and sickle lie rusted.
emotions crusted.
a tin trunk,
loose change,
bits of bell metal,
kept her two daughters unwed;
caring madhavi they age.
lights the dawn with oil wicks in the
prayer room,
brooms the front yard,
eases with a cup of tea and mathrubhoomi.
now,
lost between acres of rubber
miles of jewellery billboards,
she is in an acceptance,
as a cool breeze curls up on the crown of
the jackfruit,
a piece of blue sky for a pillow.

on my piece of earth
temples are girdled with strays,
priests, pilgrims.
every rag picker pets a stray.
generations of strays, beliefs, believers ---
on a rotation, coming and going, ---
leave neither bark or bite.

on my piece of earth
nowhere to hide kills
(oh, nothing left to kill),
no arguments over graves
no discussions over pyres,
in corners,
strays nibble at teaspoons of grass.

on my piece of earth
sun, moon, stars nap in turns
as cars honk for right of way
running over strays.

on my piece of earth
fresh as a new sari,
revathi ambles to the temple praying,
smiling over fun  nights,
frowning over lunch menus for grandkids.
rarely misses the routine,
devotees search and sight her,
srays with bylines track her.

on my piece of earth
occasional notes of forest foot beats,
ancient drumbeats,
tender heart beats,
strays upbeat.


.......

since short trouser years
he knows each dash of grass,
dot of dust in the playground;
high-kicked footballs, lost them.
dropped from the game, old and unsteady,
watches kids scoring goals.



...........


makar sankranti.
til gud crowds shops;
jaggery hems talk;
a blue sky offers kite rides
for shreya and chiyu.
grandma, grandpa never flew kites.

silent playground.
comimgs and goings of children.
salt and sugar laughter.

..............


every third day
grandpa is at the cycle repair shop.
shreya and chiyu fly mended cycles.
grandpa never cycled.


...........

warm december in mumbai.
dawning orange, new year stumbles
on a drunk moon.
koyals chuckle over a woman violated.
cheques signed, cash in bank, wait.
never in him to snip hibiscus for gods.
some regrets making it from
calcutta to kolkata; bombay to mumbai.
a nameplate alteration.
an ancientness damps the air.
january is cold.
hunched around wood fires at street corners
poor shuffle sipping steaming tea.

a dethreaded brahmin haunts
temple, church,dargah beside roads.
candles the wintry morning,
offers a chaddar at the dargah,
a coconut to ganesa.
the effort fatigues, forgets the favours.