an unsighted leap
from the caverns
of land and sea
to the chills of a city
conceited skin-deep
and what lies in between
are trenches,
alternatively replaced by
thick and thin memories
a hybrid lemonade
a glassful of hybrid lemonade

a rain

the sky spreads open like an umbrella
to the star that predicts
a season of uncertainty
to the tree,
that awaits golden zephyr
to the bees
that have no place to nest
to the soil
that witnesses a cremation day after day
to the wind
that's lost in transit
to the toys
that fancy other eyes
to the autumn
that carries burnt maple leaves
to a heart
glistened in soulless memories

finally

Chennai,

A city that reads before it speaks

A sea that treats fish-breeder and eater equally

A rain that wets all but quenches none

a road that's safe even for a beautiful blind dame

a bus that greets politely to the beggar

a language that befuddles you but seldom belittles you

a dish that can be tasted only on sweaty fingers

a beach that storms you with aspirations

a jasmine that makes you sneeze until you wear it

a sky that undergoes frequent mood-swings

a crow that replaces pigeon in tamil films

a book that is categorically artsy

a dance that is performed till you retire

a raga that one learns in mother's womb

a drink that filters you from the mediocre

a film that is whistled more than its watched

a cosmetic-shop that only stocks fairness creams

a vehicle that is designed to rob you of your money

a tree that births weighty coconuts but seldom tires

a temple that has more shrines than devotees

a map that makes you lose your sense of direction,
particularly north.

a fallen leaf

a fallen leaf,
sicken yellow.
singing prose and lulling rose
asleep on earth's torso
worry-less, penny-less
hanging indifferently to breeze
like wax on the candle
like bubble on the soap
dying tomorrow, dying now

Coffee and me

At the street
as the wind rustles
the banana leafs
a motion complimenting
tyre and wheels
he puts me out of gear
served in an earthen ware
to the road that leads
and road that bleeds
to the moments of rush
people sipping hush hush
while the world leaps forward
i lean back,
reminiscing with my bean bag

At work:
Amidst the cloud of sounds
a chuckle or a frown
he kick-starts my refuge
to the oblivious deluge
of matters that never matter
and words that aimlessly flatter
of curses that never cease
from mouths that pretend to be at ease
while the world brainstorms
i switch off,
to the music that enhances
the sound of sips

On the bed:
as the bats takeover
tumble and hover
proclaiming another end
to the daily fend
he opens my eyes
and heavies my vice
to brew words that mean
and stir focus to the screen
as the world sleeps
in the world of darkness
i colour my dream
to the brink of dawn
i colour it cream.