untittled 16

laburnum in flower,
mangos, jackfruit, coconut,
peepal, banyan, tamarind,
assembled in and around the
open-air kitchen,
ahead of Vishu at Verur village.
eyes shut tight,
led by grandma,
my friend walked to the kitchen,
opened eyes on long-time friends.
saw his face withut a mirror.
grandma handed a rupee coin
for unaudited spend.
lunch came with grandma's aromatic
cheer.
in the city, Vishu is a date
on the calendar.
no grandma to bother.
waking up to the milkman's ring, 
switching on the mobile,
scanning emails,
living with little flavour.  

Untitled 15

summer holidays.
Atharva wakes to a screaming
table clock at 5;
after a cup of Complan to grow tall,
is at the swimming pool at 6;
at 8 is in the park to be a Tendulkar;
home at 11 for lunch;
cycles to an artist centre to be a Raza,
read dated  English classics to impress
friends of parents in air-conditioned drawing rooms.
for two hours till 7 goes round and round a
skating rink with hands hugging computers;
a bath at 8 for an hour in the puja room for prayers;
by 9 put to bed by a maid
when competitive parents return from work
or do not, caught at meetings to please
the boss.
Atharva is 20.
dislikes everything except the maid.
unlike Siddartha,
wandering the Way
after glimpsing the world.
    

untitled 14

on a sunday morning,
Vitthala,
Rakkumai,
Tuka,
were into kanta pohe
from Bendres
under a banyan tree.
sipping tea from plastic cups,
thanked Omkar the priest
running debt at Bendres
when devotees with prasad
were rare.
in then times,
devotees were walkers;
some came with human ire,
others with heavenly fears;
imprisoned by Fate,
not scripters,
gods faltered.
the ambience was elder to the wooden
temple on lease to
Vithala,
Rakkumai,
Tuka,
in black stone.
garish billboards of Hindi films,
filmstars stared them down.
pilgrims after prayers
relaxed at theatres.
now under blue plastic sheets,
the lease over,
Vithala,
Rakkumai,
Tuka,
will be in white marble,
an alteration unexpected.
CCTVs will secure the temple,
devotees will email gods,
donate by credit-debit cards,
i-pod mantras.
wiping tears of
Vithala,
Rakkumai,
Tuka strummed a Rama-Krishna-Hari
on the tampoora with broken strings.
protested Rakkumai: 
Tuka, when will you sing of me?
 

untitled 13

parked on an electric wire,
a white-breasted kingfisher
broadcasts the air;
a black drongo cheeps from a
blooming copper pod;
morning walkers are plugged to
i-pods;
some, eyes shut,
synchronising their breath,
settle undeer a tree
priding new-born leaves.

untitled 12

stretched in a creaky easy chair
showered with yellow droppings
of copper pods,
chintamani scans the lane
on summer noons.
at his feet rests an age-lost donkey,
his mother's pride.
knocked down,
she bought him from a stone
contractor;
christened him deva.
aza, the labrador,
chintamani's dear,
lay across the chair.
a lame acquisition when
aza was pushed out of a merc.
Below many-angled noon shades,
they play cards (without aces)
brought by pappu, the parakeet,
rescued from a soothsayer.
play carrom without  a queen
till the moon preens.

untitled 11

at the shiva temple near the
railway station,
samkara stamps a left foot on
a tarred road;
trim,
walks the summer sun,
a grin clothing him thin.
places boulders, left-overs from
road repairs,
in a straight line,
unhurting traffic.
shredding newspapers,
folds the line into an
irregular circle.
shares a lineage with narayanathu
pranthan (mad narayanan)
of long ago;
spent a life rolling stones uphill,
freeing them downhill;
laughing.
rejected help of a generous Kali
at the cremation grounds,
their home.
Kali persisted, prandan gave in.
"shorten or lengthen my life," demanded my man.
"that's not in my power," replied Kali.
"then why the offer," asked my man.
samkara is.
needs nothing, is nothing.
a reticent passion string them.
undone by common desires,
littering trails with advaitic charms.
the city has many rejects.