POEMS
traffic lights at 3 am
Three colored lamps keeping order for ghosts on an empty Kolkata street.
the sparrow in the exhaust fan
Twigs and dry grass wedged between grease-stained plastic blades.
spelling bee words we never use
Fourteen letters for a mountain flower, but tongue-tied at a simple goodbye.
the auction of grandma's radio
I spent three years learning quantum physics, while this box only knew how to ache.
paper planes in the library
A three-rupee plane made of words long ago had just won the celestial race.
rust on the water tank
Oxidizing iron on the rooftop while the city below pretends to be permanent.
the second hand
We built a machine just to tell us we're dying, and wound up the spring with a key.
bewafa hai ghadi
If I could take the static of the world and tune it 'til the frequency was you.
the gecko behind the switchboard
Pale translucent skin pressed against two hundred and forty volts of live copper.
the ant on the circuit board
Crawling over copper highways and logic gates, wondering why the mountain hums.
receipt from the temple
Twenty rupees for the marigold twine, ten for the coconut shell.
the boy who measured the rain
We learned to count the drops that fell, but no equation told me how to measure gloom.
all you need to know
A precious day, my friend, today , the day my world was brought my way.
candle
A quiet dialogue with perfection in the dark.
what the night remembers
Nightmares say I lost you, but never a nightmare was true.
under the stairs
Rose lips, a soft kiss, right there on my cheek.
a raag sung before
A conversation with the younger boy inside, inspired by Manglesh Dabral's Sangatkaar.