MIRROR

how foolish

that I look in the mirror

and fervently pray

that you should deliver me

from my sins

when all I can actually do

is slash my wrists

and watch

as you profusely bleed

while in the mirror

I crumble up

and slowly die

I WALK MY DOGS

passing shower

a fresh pile of sawdust

fragrant

a cobbler stitches

soles

one door-mouse

peeps out of a crack

darts back

into fallen foot-soldiers

made with red hibiscus

between blades

of verdant green

my lily blooms

late afternoon

come dusk

parrots will nibble

at a half-baked moon

my frog leaps

it is not quagmired

WE WILL DRIVE UP

(a)

floods have washed away

their pots and pans

mud colored sarees

vests with two or three holes

and one half-pant

they have lost little

they had no land

a family of three children

two adults

one mongrel

and two malnutritioned pups

(b)

every year the rains

leave hill stations weepy

and pot-holes

on the picturesque roads

glowworms are in heat

monkeys retreat

(c)

the family has come

to re-tar mountain roads

equipped with new

‘flood-relief’ pots and pans

the dog and pups

have monsoon ticks

(d)

at dusk

the frogs come out to eat

the woman has lit

damp twigs with kerosene

profuse smoke

that quickly blackens

their brand new pot

and brings tears

to the woman’s eyes

on three red bricks

rice boils in the pot

garnished with salt

the children are intense

on the grass

the mongrel plays

with her trusting pups

RAG PICKER

our rag picker has genius

into one used

polyethylene sack

that once had cement

he neatly packs

the following

(i)

thirty pounds

of used

newspapers

with views

and quotable quotes

opinions

price of onions

cinema

war

what stars foretell

suicide in a well

games people play

and loose

ecological threat

to mongoose

(ii)

pints and quarts

that make this

horrible empty sound

of sin

that will again win

(iii)

keys to locks

that used to open

onto garden plants

that are so old

they are herbivores

(iv)

old clothes

that belonged to children

who now have children

and regularly give

to the Salvation Army

to save on tax

    ******

this will go on

but no one will read poetry

which is that long…….

   *******

he loads his sack

onto his bicycle

and vociferously bargains

he pays me

in the end

enough for one more quart

his investment

in emptiness for

the next time he comes around

he kicks the ground

and finds his balance

precariously

he resumes his litany

you see

he hawks

NOTE: In India, rag pickers pay for old newspapers,

empty bottles and almost anything else that is used

and empty. One day, soon, they will bid for me. They

actually come to your doorstep, and plead with you to

take away all this. They, in turn, sell the stuff to a

wholesaler, who sells it to a recycler and so on.

            The rag pickers just survive, but the

wholesalers are big fish.

            India is charmed.

ONE

between so many

two moments of agony

there was ecstasy

a moon was luminescent

in another quadrant

the mongrel and I

walked hand in hand

to our pastry shop