Tasenda

Can you hear me  in the echoes of those  ancient duststorms that  wandered the prehistoric earth Before the time, when the mountain was lake and you lay in arms i have always been here just beyond the corner  of your eye flirting with the edge of the mirror  can you hear me tapering through the stone breathing ever so delicately, like the wind  blowing through a slow delhi afternoon i have always been here a forgotten memory, held hostage by a desprate love  trying to call you over all this din can you hear me a vagarant song on loose lips  sneaking around the world by hitching  rides along with unsuspecting ruffians feeding on scraps of love that you  unwittingly throw away   i have always been here embedded in radio broadcasts and sewn into silver midnight light sending out SOSes through ripples of time Can you hear me !! please.

If only Life was resolved In small moments of Celluloid Clarity, Where breakfasts and brunches and sad little lunches Had small interludes, where we lived our lives Where we were caricatures or men and women of certain types All our flaws, all our smiles, all our little hopeless dreams Would be resolved in time for dinner, with space left for small snacks If only Life was resolved In tiny trespasses along Alliterating allusions, Where time and pain and all those little hurts Would pass in a montage, set to silent soundtracks Where ghost-quiet nights were woven together into magical quilts Held together by the threads that were unknotted from latticed shrines When the invisible returned from shadows of memories, to be whole again If only Life was resolved In small moments of Empathic epiphanies, Where prayers and amulets and objects of unverified provenances Had the power, to turn fireflies into starry nights Where our messy little truths, no longer colli...

I will sit one day again, on the hillock opposite Chrar, and look at it till it consumes me The fire that still rages in the mountains, Shall claim me then, even as I sit still unable to move Mesmerised by the beauty and purity of fire, Fire, whose fuel is men and stones, shall consume me Only to purify my stained heart, only so that I can sit one day again On the hillock opposite Chrar And look at it till it consumes me, again. I shall live again in the village of Dervishes, And in places, that do not, should not, exist I will whirl away my sorrows even as my sorrows whirl me, insignificant speck, away The wind will claim me, if only to abandon me to the village of dervishes, And in places, which do not, should not, exist. I will drink from the Spring of Hemal Even as the poison shall spread through me, I shall sing of Hejaz and Sheeraz The Thirst quenching virtue of water, shall Take over me as madness shall creep, And claim me again, so that I may drink again From the poisoned wate...