the revolution

i found solace in Her arms.

coiled close, i found

solace from the

sickening stench

of burning tires

of burning buses

of burning blood on concrete roads.

Her hair smells so

different.

i think i will stay.

i tell myself again.

i hold myself back

lest the facade of another revolution

strangle my brittle bones

and poison me.

i want to stay.

i am yet to realise

the revolution lies in her arms.

In Memory of a Dancing Daffodil.

And when the paper blank remains

Yet in my mind a chain of thoughts

A rumble does much fervour gain

A ramble with no motive brought

I see the eye that eye does not

And in that eye I do believe

A dancing daffodil I rought

And so my words then do conceive

city of disquiet

i have walked these streets

some hundred times

i have smiled at that very junction

where the sun peeks

between the broken wall and the

aching neem.

these streets that i like to call mine

have seen me in a stupor,

weeping till my shirt imitated

summer on chilly days.

these dogs that don’t know my name

and neither i, theirs, know enough that

i am a feeding hand.

i have set out to wander aimlessly

but this city draws a purpose in me;

many a times- a purposeless one.

crackling horns do not faze me,

the only gift this city has given me.

yes, it did give me more

but took it away just as soon.

i am a feeling of disquiet within Myself

and i think today,

my city feels the same.