Bunglaow by the Sea

The sea is rumbling at a distance, with the tides and the sand enjoying a touch and go relationship. I sometimes imagine what life must be like for them. The sea might whisper out "I am there", as they touch, and then an "I am not there" during its sinuous relapse back.

I am there. I am not there.

A chalky, muffled laugh maybe as they continue their respective missions to touch and un-touch each other. In the time that the sea decides to look away, the sand gets restless. Therefore the patterns of little snails creeping out of the sand for a peek, the sometimes solitary footsteps that seem to lead away into a tomorrow unknown.

And then the waves come in, and wash all of them away. Let's start afresh, it seems to say, for don't all endings portend new beginnings?

All this go on at the back of my mind, as I sit on one of the wicker chairs that line the sunlight veranda, facing the blue wall. As if concurring with my thoughts, the dog comes and rests its damp nose on my lap.

You'd do that too, all the time. When you were bored, sick, eating, reading, breathing, being. Amma's lap. The only piece of cushioning you found in the entire house.

This is how I spend my days now. Thinking about the pitter patter of little feet that once ran all over this house. The memories, the yearning. The clichéd empty nest.

That's how I live now. In the bungalow by the sea.

The Blues Came Banging on my Door

Half way through,
Your fingers reached for my skirt

The tip of your fingertips
Pushed it up

I shrank back a bit
In anticipation

You reached my knee
Our eyes rested

I looked whole
In my paleness, you said

We both knew
What you were getting at

“Does it still hurt?”
Your fingers circled the erstwhile wound

A nod, and two tear drops
That’s all there is left

Like famine, it spread
And now, all of me
Feels like the erstwhile wound.

The Art of Fugue

For K.P. Because.

That your passion seems all-consuming
Sunlight trickles in
In meshes
Your fingers play
Making patterns in the plethora of light
While from behind Kohl smeared eyes, I watch
Your passion seems all-consuming

The night was a dream
Went by in a wink
And a few bites
The crickets are silent now
Finally

The potted plant
Near your feet
Is abloom
With two little yellow flowers

Your fingers continue to flit
In an attempt to capture
The light
Oh, the glee
I can see your hands smile

From the corner of my eye
The curtains of your bedroom window
Whisper to me
Draw me apart, they say,
Let in more light
Golden food of my soul-

Purple lover, merciless and all-consuming,
Come hither
The brown cats of my mind
Beg to be tamed.