Often these words, which I hold like
A proud patriot, start becoming like us. They
Also become conditioned to our erratic demands...
They too demand from me a passport from flying page to page..
Coloring images or swerving in ink. Eroding nightmares or
Blemishing walls with crazy doodles.
So, they too should get stoned once
And let their fragile cords flail over the rooms as they
Elongate like amoebas blown into balloons..
They start forgetting what they really mean and just deluge
The poets with a relentless rant of existence and get drunk
On moldy tattered pages, sniff the aloe paste smeared
On women in Prakrit poems and bring me a world closer
To the legendary romances of Gods.
You can choose to be Apollo or Zeus Or Vishnu.
I always was Parvati...
These words have wet mouths.....they crave more water.
They have fully functioning brains...
I hustle smoke into tiny packets and all the
Words on your face seem a little relaxed.
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Abhishek,
ReplyDeleteI read your story in Pank and absolutely loved it. I've always liked Pank, and felt great to see your story there. Truth, I clicked on your very fellow cantry name(:) ), and was delighted to read such real good writing, and from my own town at that.
I live in delhi, with a lot of grief when it comes to writing, it matters so much I barely get started- that sort of thing, and I was just so happy to see your story there- it was so good.
I know you will keep writing, so won't say that. Just, that I look fwd to reading more ( and certainly hope I get off my ass and start writing soon). Been to christ college so many times.
And Pecos--there lie so many stories and songs there. was there a lot in my youths, glad to see someone the same age as I was when I went there a lot, likes it in much the same ways.:)
Hello to Paul if he's still there.
S