Filled with dusty memories, Singed with golden fireworks, Beating in pain, Like the cringing cling Of and ancient horn In the dead of night... Under the smoked Sodium vapour light.. Where the silent ghosts of the past See us, Merged in all sorts of colors Red green blue yellow, That shine off in a grace From the pool of water, yet so shallow, Floating across paper boats Made of wood, That splash under the heavy rains, And bloom in rhythm, As soon as the evening prayers start Like the gong of a fire, before, The white skull-cap heads can depart.
The little lamps pray in the corners, Lighting up the crying faces, As they reflect before the water maze Painting the white monument With a fairy on her head, Leaving us in a dumb speechless daze.
The rickshaw wheels, Splaying mud all over Those brown cursing faces, Glowing with a sheen of salt, All waiting for a mid morning dip In the roaring silence Of the heart of love; Hoping to dive from tree tops, Right into the mouth of yesterday's edge
And those lovers sitting on the stone steps Reliving tomorrow before it dies away, Feeling their way Through all the years When they were first learning how to lie. All fading behind the yellow gray walls Alive with crystal chandeliers Coated with dying twitter Of the sweetest voices on earth, Filled lovingly with tears, Melanged with the bhelpuri call of mirth, The bangle criers tingling Like marked goosebumps on my skin, Yet falling in love Behind summer trees The light playing with shadows Inside my fisted palms.
And just when I thought Our story was over, The little boy With his naked feet Came running, carrying his sack of grain Yet when I looked inside, I fell for life again, For I found my childhood again Like a butterfly That finds its cocoon once more. I felt the sick hot air Blowing like wind mills On my soul dried of rain, The hawkers screaming inside my ears Just how nostalgia smells like..
Then the four day love comes leaping Forming water ripples in the sky, All those million colours, Painted on flower buds Hidden beyond the smoke And drum beats, That haunt me in my worst dreams.. Smoked by the red paint festival That steals lovers from themselves And the tears fall like rainfall On a soggy wintry night, Captured by a madman Through the branches of a nude tree.
Yet I cry to see those bare bodies Behind my arms, All shivering and sweating in rhythm The street filled With strip-clothed mendicants, All praying and singing in unison, For a touch of painlessness.
The slum smells of blood , And dried skin falling off On the foot marks the whites left Aeons ago, on a tilted clifftop. And yet here we stand, Like broken soldiers of the war, Those tears marked beneath our eyes Or choking down our intestines, Like an anaconda burning inside... We keep our sweets hidden Behind our favorite toys, Hoping to keep them alive Even longer than ourselves .. Our tangled taste buds Swiftly strike strings With our sweet melodies.. Till everyone bows down in submission And we smile our deadly lovely smiles Before we say ..