The City Men

The City men, the million run down trains;
They are a stampede of mechanized brains,
They are a mesh of dead cables,
They are shameless, ugly; empty thought bubbles.

Their grouped conscious, the mob’s unified mind
The zombie-like metal muscles, on the deadpan face
The one face, of the herd, when God was a little ungracious
Time and tide all Greek and Latin, as they jog the mice race

The city men, the masses, the target groups
The political parties, municipalities, activists,
The groups in the name of this God and that
The city men, the wise men
Their tried and tested methods,
In the name of this faith and that

They work as one team
As one unthinking brain
The city men, the run down trains
They are the mementos of the New Age

Individuals left their names on the sand of time
The city men leave an asymmetrical scar
On the unborn android, the one in some box-like womb
Life comes in full circle they say
But when the city men go in circles
And, they do it as one unified mind
I don’t know who can break the ear-splitting rhythm
Of the one voice humming in the symposium

For you my fallen friend

I will be there for you my fallen friend
Like the silent wandering dragonfly
On your misty blue marshland
Unnoticed, I will fly by

I will be there for you my fallen friend
Like the dead twig afloat
Watching you die
as you continue to butcher
Riding on the current
Of your tremulous water

I will be there for you my fallen friend
Unfound continents and seven seas
The hell and the mummified identities
The heaven and the slaved angels
They barricade that stretch of land
Their virtue and my vice
Restrict me from your premise

That mirage on the grain of your sand
Is my adamant hand; outstretched..
With every nerve stretching till it tears
Confessing to you like never ever

I will be there for you my fallen friend

I met myself

On my way back home
I met myself
With my hand in the pocket
Like some stranger
I looked at me

I tried to wave
With raised brows
I continued to whistle
I continued to slip away..

My feet absently took the same route
But I couldn’t reach out
Could not hold my hand
I had become a shadow

I was the gray mirror image
Just a blur reflection
I was the caged prisoner
Of the mysterious me

While the I reached the edge
and took that flight
My shoulders drooped
I knew I was lost

The shadow that I had become
Could not be freed
Not from the free me

The Ladies’ Special

I had sent a silent thank you to the person. The same person; who was now screamed and glared at by every other person in the compartment. Mumbai. The city pushes you to the edge almost as often as you breathe. Here in this local train we were literally and figuratively pushed to the edge.

Every day a Ladies Special train packs the women of this city and dispatches them all to their desired destinations. Mumbai depends on this one locomotive wholly and solely. The day this train resigns, Mumbai will be faced with a debacle quite unfathomable in size and scale.

The train played its trick today.. It ran at a slower pace and failed to reach this station on time. The crowd grew in volume, making me nervous. Nervous, not because some business empire would come down like a pack of cards because I couldn’t make it to office in time. Unlike other locals who are born thinking that the only way of life is to live happily ever after with this mob in the backdrop all the time, mob puts me off.. makes me feel nervous.

I wanted to back off as the crowd in its routine way stepped a step closer to the platform edge. I knew what this action meant by heart. The train was coming.. finally. There were voices in my head telling me that it would sound preposterous to call up my boss and tell him that I would not be swiping my card today because the mob puts me off. Any self-respecting Mumbaikar would like to keep this ‘ mob psyches me’ secret to herself.

So like everyday, I decided to give it a try.. One wave of women made its way to the compartment shore, followed by the next and the next. I was still on the platform. Only when the train almost gave up on me, I managed to get my feet aboard. My mind was sending its usual silent SOS messages, without my consciousness approving of them even once. I needed some breathing space..

Beta .. idhar khade raho. Faster than the speed of light I pushed my way to the space shown to me by this godsent stranger. I knew the voice had sounded a little too coarse to be any woman’s. And, in that split second, the one glimpse at this face had revealed its identity to me. This person had taken a wrong train. Maybe..

I stood next to the stranger. My shoulder was touching the stranger’s shoulder. But, I could breathe. Though the voice and the face had the same rugged quality about it, very much like my other counterpart who once taught me that a woman should by accident or choice never step in the other compartment, this voice had given me some breathing space.

Then the voices were raised. My fellow travelers were trying to keep their distance from this person, but it was impossible to find enough space. The train’s uniqueness was brought to everyone’s notice. The woman-like attire was not enough of an explanation to travel in the Ladies Special.

They were two of them. The one who had helped me and the other I couldn’t see. But knew was there.. There was this strong something smelling like alcohol.. I knew too well that it wasn’t any fragrance brand. Yet, I reserved my thank you for the stranger. Of all my journeys in the Ladies Special, this was the only journey where someone actually allowed me the much needed space to breath.

Let the child live beyond her time

Let’s dump the deadlines for once
There’s a timeline to live
And timeline to die
And a timeline to love
And one for every dream you chase
For every hope

Let’s run behind the schedule for once
Allow the sun to roam at its will
And the stars to stray through the day
Let the child live beyond her time
Let’s dump the deadlines for once

The ocean ceases to be the ocean..

When you explore the depths of the ocean.. do you reach the ocean floor in the end ? Is it about reaching the deep end or about reaching the faraway island or just about trying to reach there? Is it about sinking below the many layers or is it about drifting away?

Is it about the ocean gulping you down? Or about you melting in the blues…Is it about the horizon or the ocean beyond that line? Is it about knowing where the ocean begins or about knowing where the vastness ends; if it does?

Is it about reaching that point where you think the ocean stops being an ocean or reaching that point where the ocean ceases to be. ..?

Mumbai is..

Mumbai is like a stack of dominos. Any one piece can bring the whole structure down.
-jui

where you end, I begin

where you end, I begin
insane thoughts
they call it a sin
hazy dots
million plots
where you end, I begin