unfinished conversations

9810043938
I dial the number again
And hear a strange voice
Some woman mumbling something
I wonder – Where are you?

I disconnect
And dial again
I know what you will say
Cross connections
Bad signals
That for the last two years you have been trying to get
The mobile company to boost the signal in the house
Actually the signal level around the
Corner chair where you used to sit
All the time
Complaining
Railing against the world
The first time i met you you were complaining
To Radhika
And the last time
To me
sitting outside
after Sara's dinner

9810043938
I remember the number
Its funny
So many numbers and figures
I have seen after that
This is one number I never need to remember
Store away on my mobile
Every time I want to call you
It comes back from that corner of my mind

I know you wanted to talk to me
You always had something left to say
The conversation never ended
You were shouting
Even as I left your door
It was always your door
How did you ever convince me that
It is always easier for me to drive to your place
Than for you to come to mine
Every time it was the same silly logic
And I would fall for it

9810043938
I dial again
Thinking maybe this time
I will just let you talk
Not speak
Not contradict
Just listen

Now will you pick up the phone?

52 words between you and me

(returning from a trip and remembering another one)

bus
bunder road
dogs on the beach
the bull

shooting our shadows
white churches
sunlight creeping thru the
slits
of the wooden doors

hands cupping each other
mouths devouring each other
creaks & groans
bed
silence
beads of sweat around our lips
tired

wooden beams of the roof
the fan
spinning
unmindful

when i was 17

when i was 17 i had planned to die
at 36

the stage was set
to become world famous through a series of dazzling projects
which at different points in my adolescent life ranged between
the great Indian novel, winning the football world cup
winning the Nobel Prize (for Peace)

many of these dreams would
coalesce into a hour long film
projected into the back of my mind

and sometimes i would be
moving from one scheme
to the other
writing with one hand
discovering with the other

now
the tower of success seems distant
the goals i reach fade away as i touch them
new dreams play around with old ones
confusing me

they laugh at me
they tell me that they are tired
waiting
waiting to unfold
since i have fallen far behind
they still wait

this time i plan to die
at 65
that should be time enough
i think

wait i can hear a new dream beginning

Instructions from the moral police (precautions on backside)

Don’t

Don’t jog
Don’t walk
Don’t run

Don’t stand (here)
Don’t sit
Don’t lie (or tell the truth)

Don’t paint
Don’t sing
Don’t dance

Don’t turn left
Or right
Or walk ahead

Don’t
Just don’t
No
Never

Don’t see
Don’t hear
Don’t talk

Don’t touch
Don’t kiss
Don’t hug

Don’t blink
Don’t move
Don’t breathe

Be still while we smother you.

PS. In case you guys are wondering what this is about read more.