Two of my poems have been published in Kritya: A Journal of Poetry.
The links are given for you to check out the poems. But still, I am reproducing them on the blog. Hope they'll be liked.
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MY GRANDMOTHER
My grandmother
Eighty-springs and half-a-monsoon old
Is the strongest woman
With eyes like tender, dew
Wet grass on winter morns
Like a dark overcast sky
Eyes, liquid and placid
With untold tales
She herself knew
Her long, flowing hair
Now washed on alternate days
With shampoo and later doused
In Cantheridine
Is not as old as her
It was cut, forcibly
When two and a half summers ago
The doctor, with a constipated face
Had clicked his tongue, and predicted
The unimaginable
Her mind, once a treasure to be mined
From where she had recounted
Age old wisdom to her grandson
Of things interesting, of things unknown
Now lies looted and empty, widowed
Like herLike the middle
Of her forehead
Which she'd once adorn
With a big, red bindi
Perhaps she'd consigned
Her indulgent self, all of it
Into grandpa's pyre
My grandma, who now sits
In a permanent stupor
Is still the strongest woman
Who cannot be shaken out of her rut
Like six springs back
When she had to watch
Her younger son
Consecrated to flames
My grandma
Eighty summers and half a monsoon old
Is the strongest woman
Who is not afraid
Of the holocaust wind
That howls in deep bellied
all petty matters
Which worry, and make
Her progeny sweat
Their foreheads, dotted
With beads of sweat
As they discuss strategies
And counter strategies
To fulfill Their petty lives
While all the while
My grandma
Eighty-summers-and-half-a-monsoon-old
Sits there, in no hurry
And contemplates
The glass of water
On the table
Believe me, my grandma
Eight-summers-and-half-a-monsoon old
Is indeed the strongest woman
On earth
She is
My Hero
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MAZE
Empty sounds
Jingle
In my hair
Buzzzing
With discontent
And
Angry words
Conspire
Hurl abuses
At my cardamom
Breath
Old bottles dance
With sober intentions
In hungry orgies
Like schizophrenic peacocks
Keeping me suspended
In the light of
A tired dawn
A forgotten tune
Flat as
My hollow thoughts
Reminds
To remind me
Of Something
I'd forgotten
Before I
Could be remined
To listen
.
I am finished
I am finished
I am finished
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