Bone China

mother left
the quiet house, writhes
slowly in her bed
asking to be loved well
end of monsoon

sunbirds twich outside, hibiscus
and bougainvillea spread indisciplined
even the wasps fly faster, staying
for longer
in the window sils

i broke a saucer yesterday, mom
bone china splintered over the floor
just recently mopped by you, as I stood up
regathered
a to-do list lost its adhesive
and flew outside, forever unread

The Vintage Outcasted Ice Cream Man

a quaint little repository
of frozen milk and such
was his rectangle that
he dragged over the street
summer days

orange and milk
strange combo, really
I never liked it till
the day my heart broke
and she gifted me one
for free

later I saw the guy
dismembered, a winter day
cold like a stone
clotting on the foothpath
waiting for a loved one
to tell him what I did
‘how have you been?’
FINE, he said, almost rehearsed
drew out a wet beedi
and planned his next act
the road widened, over it
fresh carts
selling branded shit

Rice Fields, Circa 2000

serene
in this moment, the paddyfield
stirred by soft breezes

lulled
by the grey sky, mango trees
cloud into a forest

immersed
till the knees, the farmer
wades through his fluorescent land

calmed
by the pecking drizzle, he stands
watching the storm brew

13.1.17 – in memory of Nerur, Kudal, Maharashtra.