The Old School Reunion

I’m sorry old friend,
But you must now leave.
In the current scheme of things
I’m afraid, we cannot;
Accommodate you.

Your life is a reminder
Of all that we once cherished
And believed in.

But times have changed.
Over the years we have evolved.
There has been a significant shift
In our goals and targets.
And it is with some regret
That we now bid you an uneasy
Farewell.

You do appreciate, of course,
We are not rejecting you.
We are merely putting you
In an appropriate perspective
Of a certain given context.

We do not doubt your greatness.
We understand who you are.
We know where you’ve been.

When we talk of you
It is with awe and respect,
For a life well lived and well fought.

You have earned your rightful place
In our conversations and memories,
Have become a part of the old school folklore,
The hero of the bedtime stories
We tell our children.

And as always we salute you.

But I’m sorry old friend,
You must now leave.
In the current scheme of things,
I’m afraid , we cannot;
Accommodate you.

December, 2006
New Delhi

Promise

If you
Show me
The places
Where you
Hide me
I promise
Not to
tell anyone.

I have
A right
To know
Where you
Lock me
On busy
Days and
Which shelf
You place
Me on
When your
Husband makes
Love to
You.

I want
To know
What you
Do with
Me when
You are
Bored and
What you
Do with
Yourself when
You want
Me and
Cannot find
Me.

I would
Appreciate it
If you
Could tell
Me how
You propose
To spend
The rest
Of your
Life without
Me

New Delhi.

Corner

When I find myself hidden
In a corner of your mind
I wonder what I am
Doing there.

Please do not misunderstand.
I like that little corner.
It’s a nice and comfortable place
To live in, almost
Like being home

I do not resent it
When it’s cleaning up time
And you sweep me out
With other things.
It just makes me feel
A little insecure
As if I’ve been locked
Out of my room
For the night
And there isn’t any other place
I can go to

It’s alright
When you take me out
And stare at me thoughtfully.
Debating whether I need to be
Oiled, tidied, cleaned, repaired,
Replaced, substituted or
Thrown out.

I understand all this.
These are a part of
a married woman’s household chores
Tasks to be finished
before the husband arrives home
with his demands.

but still,
when I find myself hidden
in a corner of your mind
I wonder what I am
Doing there.

New Delhi.

Gratitude

I guess
I should be
Grateful to you
For going away.

Had you stayed
I would have laughed
Away your love.
I would never have known
What it was like
To come back home
And not see your
Smile.

I know now
The pillow is
A poor substitute
For your body
And without you
I am afraid of
The dark.

Thank you
For showing me
What a fool
I was.

New Delhi.

The Chosen One

When your passions are spent and your lust is dead,
And the wonders of heaven fill your heart and your head,
Your soul comes crashing through its layers of flesh,
Spewing guts and glory in a magnificent mess,
Then put on your boots and pick up your gun,
It’s time for some good old-fashioned fun,
Pray softly now, don’t scream or shout,
And let god show you how to blow their fucking brains out.

When your sins are cleansed and your body is pure,
And the love of god heals you like some miracle cure,
You slice open your heart amidst chantings and cries,
And offer it as a sacrifice to insects and flies,
Then feel the power of your faith in its agony and bliss,
Walk into your neighbours house and make them swallow your piss,
You are the chosen one and you’re gonna show them all,
The angels of mercy will bless you when you fall.

New Delhi.

Soldier

Once you were a soldier and you walked with your head held high,
You knew the secrets that would expose the universal lie,
In one hand was your guitar, and in the other a flower,
You looked so beautiful as you challenged the prophets of power,
They called you a fool and burnt your songs,
But a dream glowed in your heart and its flame was bright and strong,
You had an appointment with the vision in your eyes,
The next train you caught was taking you to paradise,
But like others before you, you must now learn,
There are no comebacks on the streets of no return.

There were golden apples to pluck and twilight mountains to climb,
And everywhere you went love came to you in jingles and rhymes,
You ate your magic mushrooms and drank your country wines,
And your temple of love floated across space and time,
There were sunshine beaches and midnight bars,
Lovers playing in the dark and reaching for the stars,
Laughter and kisses and the smell of rain in the month of June,
And your ship of dreams sailing beneath the moon,
But like others before you, you must now learn,
There are no comebacks on the streets of no return.

Oh yes, you remember and it makes you cry,
As you lie in your room of closed walls and concrete sky,
There is no magic wand to wake you from your lonely stupor,
The needle has been a very expensive tutor,
The Gods you worshipped and who taught you how to pray,
Have lost their sight and their feet are turning to clay,
Now the whispers are back in your head and your body is trembling again,
As the angels of death dance along the highways of your veins,
But like others before you, you must now learn,
There are no comebacks on the streets of no return

New Delhi.

Punjabi Wedding

Horny little Punjabi bitch,
With your drooling lard and private itch,
Spread your honey and cream your cake,
Young Mr. Kapoor is on the make.

Mamma’s poochie woochie golden boy,
Don’t feel shy, don’t be coy,
Mamma got you a blushing bride,
Virginity oozing from her insides.

Drape this lovely lace of lies,
Across the truth between your thighs,
Now practice your sweet bedroom sighs,
Complete the perfect honeymoon disguise.

Convent passions heave and creak,
On satin sheets and beds that don’t squeak,
Give her the short and simple Punjabi bang,
Mamma’s pretty baby is a healthy young man.

Your son’s got the claps in his head,
Your daughter’s getting laid on her uncle’s bed,
Your flesh is loose and your panties are too tight,
Your husband won’t be home for dinner tonight

New Delhi.