These little battles between me and the BEST bus in Andheri. 

These little battles, 

the bus with its magnanimity, 

and I with my audacity. 

Who gets to save 5 seconds? 

Sometimes, I win from the bus 

and cross the road.  

But lose to a woman who is relentless. 

The scooter and I both halt, 

gesturing each other— 

you go first,

shared fear, shared kindness. 

We both lose 5 seconds. 

The signal costs me a minute. 

More lost battles with a car. 

A kaalipeeli. A truck. 

Another minute lost. 

And thus, I miss the train 

by 30 seconds 

and lose the war. 

Sleep in your Joints

Certain things

are collective experiences–

like waking up after a nap in the evening,

feeling sleep in your joints.

But then, there are other things

like the shape of a name on my tongue,

the wait of it

to slip,

this–

only I know.

falling in love with my editor

he gently takes my bare poem

in his bare hands 

—he puts a hair behind my ear—

he has just put a comma

—he wipes something off my forehead—

he has just capitalised a word after a period

—he peels a pomegranate for me—

he has just removed repeat words that I repeat

—he is folding laundry in my room—

he has just read a verse three times

—he makes me cross the road—

he is just teaching me punctuations

but oh there is such joy

in not learning punctuations 

—if he is there—