അലച്ചില്

എനെറ്റ കൂടുകാരിയ്കു
ഇരുട്ടിെന േപടിയാണ്
ഇരുട്ടിയമുറിയില്
അവള്ക്കുറക്കമില്ല
ഉറങ്ങാത്ത മുറിയില്
നാം
ൈകോകറത്തു േമയ്കോറത്തു
പലരാത്രി കവിതചോല്ലി
കടംകഥകളായി ജീവിച്ചു
---
എനെറ്റ േസ്നഹിഎതയ്കു
ഉറക്കമില്ല
െവയില്െവളിച്ചം നിറഞ്ഞ മുറിയില്
ഉച്ചയുറക്കത്തിന്േപരില്
ഞങ്ങള്
കളിച്ചും ചിരിച്ചും ചുംബിച്ചും
ദിവസങ്ങള് രാത്രികള് വറ്ഷങ്ങള് കഴിഞ്ഞു
---
ഇന്ന
ഈ ഉറക്കമില്ലാത്ത
വറ്ഷങ്ങളിെലഉറക്കം േതടി
ഞാന് അലയുന്നു

Afterday

G: Dear...
A: My legs ache, I feel old
N: Me? I'm tired!
G: When do we meet?
A: Let's roll.
N: I hate to lose control.
G: I think I'm floating
A: The Earth revolves beneath you
N: I can't swallow.

G: I have to go.
A: Stay.
N: Stay.
G: Something's wrong...
A: Let them deal with it.
N: Grunt!

G: Where are we going?
A: Up the road?
N: Down the road?
G: A church?I'm sitting here.
A: I'm across.
N: Child welfare?
G: There comes another.
A: 100?
N: Lets go!

G: To the fair?
A: To the station?
N: Wherever you take me.
G: Let's sing
A: Nursery rhymes?
N: Something else.
G: Ice cream
A: Ice cream
N: Ice cream
G: Chocolate
A: Chocolate
N: Chocolate

G: Butterscotch
A: hmmmmmm...
N: Hot chocolate
G: I miss him
A: I miss him
N: I miss myself
G: So you are going to again?
A: You look beautiful
N: Yes. 2 years. I feel wonderful.

G: I'm not going.
A: I'll join you.
N: I'm happy.

I Chose

So I'm stuck with this aloneness

Well it was a choice
But what are really
The choices we make
The choices that are choiceless?

This is not even about me
This has never been.

It is always been about your grief
How long could I survive that?
What about me?

Does it matter?
After all it's my choice, right.

I can feel the tears swell
They don't seem to find
A way out though

They surge and they recede
Like the moon-teased tides
The tears though
Never hit the shore.

I'm beyond any comprehension
Of my own feelings

If you find me strewn around
Believe me
There won't be any
Emotions in them.
It's a choice I made.

Rubbish!

I'm told
Im halways in a urry
To say what I ave to say
I do typos while i pseak
I mix letters brack and foth
and call myself a spoonerist
I spoon'em words
And twist'em up
I tick my bookets and
And read Kelly and Sheets
I say bains
For beans and baingan.
What's for dinner donight?!
Senseless sense I sense in me
Sometimes nonsense
It's todally me!
I write here this
To entertain myself!
Such boredness life has become!
ha!

Life Lines

If I take a look from top
It all looks like a movie
A bloody quagmire to me
Just lines connecting
From here to there

To somewhere else
Back here again
And then away elsewhere!
A complete racous!
And you and I
Are the queens and kings

Of racous making
How madly incestous
Always ready to our give hearts away
Always
What will we do!
Nothing
Be like this always!

By NAM (Nocturnal Artists' Movement)
Outcome of a frustrated and self realisation chat between Junuka and Me. Talk about verbal harmony!

Ma-u-sochism

Every morning I wake up, I find my kitten, Mau at my feet stretched out sometimes on his side, sometimes even on his back. It is such a sight of cuteness. Mostly if he's not asleep the night while I am, he's hyper jumping about, hunting roaches and god only knows what not all, and at times jumps onto my bed and nibbles at my feet. It hurts and he gets kicked.

But when I'm awake, I cant keep my hands off this cuteness and keep petting him till he's thoroughly pissed off at being woken up and turns around and bites me! And guess what, I know when the bite's going to come, but do I stop? Nope! I just go right on till his bites get harder and more hurtful and almost bruises me.
I tell myself I'm such a masochist!

I'm sitting at the beauty parlour, almost undressed, in the smock of sorts they give you when you need to get yourself waxed. No one I know, or atleast I don't particularly wax in the winters unless there's an occassion that calls for it. One is so under wraps in several layers of clothing in the Delhi winters that waxing is definitely not on the priority list.

So here I am sitting half naked, hairy and all waiting for hot wax to be poured upon and my body hair ripped off. The woman is a professional. She's only used to several clients waiting in line making her pace the process to the extent that I often wonder if she forgets that the hair being ripped off is of a live being.
It's a weekday and it's noon time. No rush! No clients in line! But yet, the wax is steaming hot and I wince in pain. What more, my skins dry like a parched land and that never helps in reducing pain! I lie there while she works on my thigh, legs, other thigh, other leg, behind my legs, arms and then finally the most painful, underarms! And I wonder - WHY THE @#^%*#*&#* AM I HERE?
Then she goes on to thread my upper lip and eyebrows, which, careless but not carefree that I am about such, there's an overgrowth which again she heartlessly mows through.

I am a masochist I know. I know I'll only go again to a parlour when the lawns become unkempt. I never find the time to go before that till I kind of loathe myself in the mirror. (years of conditioning I say!) But do I enjoy that pain...probably not...do I mind it? Probably yes. Would that stop me from going? Never!

How does one explain this need to cause pain to oneself?
"Sometimes I cut myself to see how much it bleeds... it's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me"
-"Stan," Eminem

Is that it? Is that what longing for unrequitted love also means? Is that what longing at all means?

Mau's sprawled himself on the floor next to my chair. He's waiting for me to get into bed so that he can snuggle at my feet and nibble at it in his sleep.

As much as it is cuteness, it is unrest for me!

Conversations

And yet again she said
She was a fool.
And all I could ask was
Why did you let go?
We don't know!

21 Feb'08, 07.30 pm