Autophony

Yesternight I thought the stars came out, twinkling towards infinity, the moon was a sil'vry orb as she played hide-and-seek with the dream mists; I thought I met the Queen of England and the Prime Minister of Bangladesh on a helicopter over the Caribbean sharing a turqoise curacao in an electric-lighted reverie ; I thought I saw the sun rise, red, orange, yellow to the avian symphony of magpie-robins, mynahs and red-whiskered bulbuls; I thought I saw the hibiscus buds open and the frangipani leaves shed dew; But what I truly saw was the grime-laden red city buses with their overloaded, quarrelling commuters; What I truly saw was the trains stuck at bright red signals that wouldn't change to the green glow of progress; What I truly saw were my office lights in the false ceiling, the monotone of the air conditioner and the stern, upstanding computer screen; What I truly saw, was yesterday. (A bit of the Carpenters' 'Yesterday Once More...

Pourquoi est-ce que qu'il y a des temps pour danser, chanter, courir, tomber, voler, embrasser, étreindre, crier, rire, sourire, nager, grimper aux arbres, rouler, jouer quand on n'est que l'enfant? Pourquoi grandissons nous?

I'm a rat, I'm a rat, I scurry and I bite, I eat what I get, And I fuck and I fight, I dodge the black crows, I run from your shoes, But I'm old or sick, you'll trample over me.

बग़ावत करूँ भी तो किससे, ना ग़ुलाम हूँ किसी का, ना अज़ाद हूँ किसी से

I am a stranger everywhere; the house I stay in, is it a home or just a camping-tent?

A weekend's thrill, and then five days of boring, nerve-wracking hyperactivity: I'm on a roller-coaster I can't get off from.

दोस्ती करना भी तो निभाना है, कभी डायरी में हमेशा ख़ामोश एक नाम दर्ज है, कभी ट्रेन में घण्टे भर की गुफ़्तगू को ही याराना मान लिया

जान देने वाले बूँदें आपके अल्फ़ाज़ थे, अवाज़ मेरा बस दरिया था जो ख़ूबसूरती थी आपके अल्फ़ाज़ में थी, अवाज़ मेरा बस ज़रिया था

ऐ इनसान तुझे देखकर ख़ौफ़ नहीं होता, न तेरे दान्त हैं, न नोकीले नाखून, फिर ऐसा क्यों कि मेरा शिकार भी तू, मेरा शिकारी भी तू?

Two DNA strands divorced, two bodies joined, And I am become.

As turnover, they'll put gold, land, conquests and a few genes to my name. As profit, I'll get to take with me a cheap cotton shroud.

There is a human in every beast, that's why they are nasty sometimes.

I live on coffee and black depression, hurtling into nothingness.

Fragrant, soft, white, puffy rice Boiled with mother's love And mixed with cool, milk white curd Partaken gently Morsel by morsel ...And I knew God!

A red apple, some cyanide takes me to the sweet embrace of hers.

Why does the world hurtle on like a pebble rolling down a mountain?

Someday she will be a voice, not a memory.

आया था बेलिबास, जाऊँगा बाकफ़न, क्यों रखूँ हवस रेशम-ओ-ज़र का?

must it care where, what, when, who, why? Congress, BJP, Shining Path, Tea Party, balding Czechs, sexy Mexicans, sanyasins, witches, Mandodari, Sita, Ayodhya, Lanka, sluts and wives, smog, spring, ash clouds, Casanovas and Popes, lamas and rapists, jihadis, hippies, cobras, humans, dung-beetles where, what, when, who, why? does it really care?

In life's lasting winter I find in a haiku everlasting blooms