भेट (9 Apr, 2016)

आपण चाललो असे

रिकामटेकडे, बंद दुकाने

राजवाडे सजून उभे,

सांजवेळचे सवतसुभे,

पायांखाली लाल रकाने.

रकाने भरले पावलांनी

तिरपे सोनेरी किरण रुतले

गळ्यात गळे घातले सावळ्यानी,

पर्यटक तुझ्यातला टिपे चित्रे---

तिरकी मान, बारीक डोळे, ओठ मुडपले.

संवादाचे धागे उलगडले,

चालता चालता सोडत

गेलो एक धागा

परत जाण्यासाठी

पाण्यातून श्वासाला परत येण्यासाठी.

 

चकाकत्या पाण्यात परावर्तले

घरचेच काळजीचे सूर,

"मी ठीक आहे, बाबा"

(तुमच्या पासून दूर

पण माझ्या जिवाची हुजूर)

नजरेसमोर माझ्या पोर नाचे

पैंजण नव्हे आतडे जिवाचे

तिने घ्यावी गिरकी आणि

माथे चकरावे माझे,

हसता चमके कडे दातांचे.

"बाबांचे असे का कापावे हात,

का दगडांचे व्हावे मेण ?"

आठवणींची पिंपळ पाने

मी, तू बोटे फिरवावी
त्यांच्या धाग्या-धाग्यातून.

जुन्या सखीची याद यावी

ओठांचे चंबू, कानांची सुपे

घडी घातलेले हात

आणि नजरचोरीची रूपे

जरा श्वासालागी थांबू येथे. 

ऊबदार बैठक रस्त्यालागी

अंतरीचे संवाद, मिटणारी अंतरे

उबळीचे अंतर्नाद घुमणारे

काटे चमचे रुतणारे

बंद चूल, कोणी जेवणास मागी.

पुन्हा वळवावे घड्याळाचे काटे

बसून भरावे श्वासांचे भाते

या अंधाराचे किनारे

बंद आवाजांचे गाभारे

मनसोक्त बोलावे येथे.

Snooker च्या टेबलाचा काठ

भोवती गर्दीचा गोंगाट

तू सांगावेसे तुझे कुठे

गुंतले मन, रुतले काटे,

"मुलींनीच का नाचावे लग्नात?"

कुणी घडवले कुठल्या कुशीत,

प्रेमाचा एक चिवट धागा

म्हंटली तर एक श्रुंखला

तू उडावेस आकाशीच, जर

वाटले तर विसावे माझ्या कुशीत.

हरवले आता पावलांचे ठसे

गावाचे त्या कुसे झाले थिटे,

पंखांच्या बळावरती

गगन चुंबती तुझे स्वप्न

झोपेत कधी मला भेटे. 

रात्रीची धाव अशी

धापा टाकत उभी गाडी,

निरोपाचे शब्द गिळावे,

गळ्यात गळे घालून वळावे,

या सखीचे हृदय कळावे.

Badminton

Dedicated to Prakash Padukone

Badminton

    That ex-girl friend

    Who made you run and wait,

    For who you still buy

    Birthday gifts and chocolate

    And not send them but

    Remember the old days instead.

Badminton

    That 20-yard court yard

    And 2 and half foot blade

    Black shoes and socks red

    Brows wet under bandana softly tied

    Noise floor high around

    And total calm inside.

Badminton

    I was a King when I played

    In command of my land

    And a pauper when I was late,

    With no dime to bribe my death.

    Either as a solo or a duet

    It always took away my breath.   

    

Badminton

    A battle that rages

    Not so much as in your head

    A bear-hug, tip-toe dance

    With sure feet and deft hands

    Sharp eyes and open stance

    You played as if "no second chance".

Badminton

    It was a thread, 

    That held the body and the spirit.

    A pathway to fantasy land

    From a life so staid

    You timed your jump just right

    To reach for the stars overhead.

Badminton

    An old injury still wet

    Memory of a lost hand,

    A broken home and shrill pets,

    Those partners in crime

    Who I didn't understand,

    And tears that I alone shed.

Holding hands longer than typing

My laptop confirmed, I type
For longer than hold your hands,
How tightly I hold the sands
Witness to our kiss in full daylight

Now you question about your weight
Your hand-crafts and certificates,
As If this life could be validated by pieces
of paper or answers straight
out of books.

Talking of books reminds me
of poems that make me cry,
I Hold my tears as I try
To balance a conversation that passed by.

You hold that string of words
like a bow
with a quivering arrow
and ask if  I lost my vocal chords.
I nod as I pick up shards of sorrow.

That evening of promise, that beach
full of waves, leading to the street
that climbed up the hill of vice
and broken church frequented by knaves.

On a dark night as a ghost led us around
I have found maps in pieces
(clues ask for a pound of flesh too)
and followed the lost sounds of togetherness.

That kid from the next door,
that bike ride from station to station,
that walk in the rains
and the telephone liaison.

It's a quilt from our earlier bedroom,
Where the bed creaked stories to our neighbors,
Its pattern may be the missing piece of the puzzle,
or a lead to the wanton moors instead.


(copyright: Ashish Asgekar)

Dead on the road

    On highway one afternoon
    I Drive as I whistle away,
    I press softly on the peddle,
    to find lying in the middle
    a dog dead on the road.

    Open mouth and dripping toung,
    Huffing chest and wagging tail,
    Black eyes and slack thighs, of
    All that's left behind, is
    some flesh red on the road.

    Did it not see left or right,
    Did it not hear or see bright?
    Not content on the sidelines,
    Had it followed a scent flyin, or
    Had just strayed on the road?

    Had it eaten its heartfull before,
    Had it even barked throatful?
    Looking for some company or bone,
    Was it on its way home, or alone.
    Questions as I sped on the road.

    Would it have a name to call by
    Would it stir when a cat went by?
    Did it follow someone around,
    and rolled on the ground. Is it
     just playing dead on the road?
   
    I remember a familiar bark
    Mad jumps and face licks, "Hark!"
    I waiver, I slow down, somber,
    Was it someone's home member, the
    Dog that's dead on the road?

    Don't stare long in the mirror
    You can not choose to stop or
    Turn, this is a highway, look ahead,
    Here animals should be forbade, see
    What mess it made on the road!

Game on the train

In front of me 3 kids play cards,
Rather they pretend,
with each draw they restart,
with angst they count,
in a bout of words,
the game comes to an end.

'Tu pishi' pushes the boy, 'pishi' girl giggles,
she will be missed, she knows,
She purrs and snuggles close.

the other 'Didi' mediates,
she has an upper hand.
She counts again and cheats,
when will the other two understand?

'Superstar' proclaims 'pishi' heroin,
others roll in laughter,
their cards carry bikes on the rear
and kids ride hard.

'BMW', 'Suzuki', 'Kawasaki', game wores on,
looking for 'BMW' after 'BMW', or 'suzuki' on 'suzuki',
'OH', heroin has won the hand.
Others find their hands empty nearly.

'Keep your feet to yourself!'
and some more screams,
the eyes, the gestures,
a 'Suzuki' call followed by dirty-word streams.

'AICH!' the heroin has cleared
the deck again
'Wow', 'How?' She refuses to share.
Others tickle her insane.

One phone call cuts short the game,
the shout march, and the blame.
It's suddenly Hush Hush
on the East-bound train.


(On my way to Calcutta from Delhi)

Sleep

Sleep approaches like a cat,

ready to jump away. 

Who will bell it, prey? 

 

When you remain distant, 

waves reach me from far, 

wind is blunt, n window ajar, 

for a dream. I send you love, 

 

sms, and I receive it,  like facing a mirror, by Jove. 

Alice had it better, 

she could get inside the mirror. 

That'd turn Left to Right, 

sweet to bitter, 

sugar to chocolait, 

 

With a story in my head, 

I wait instead, 

tired, I swear, as 

young Sun-rays run across the bed.

Cris-cross Jindagi

Now, pick me up you said,

I chose to walk down instead, 

and you went about your way. 

Marriages are heaven-made. 

 

When did we meet first, 

do you recall? 

Our birth-days match, 

so do lives over all. 

 

My Aai-baba 

are your in-laws, 

as I hear your Ma 

has the same claws. 

 

I mix with your family, 

you do as much, 

My share of sweets you munch, 

and burp contentedly. 

 

Your old baba drives 

his scooter around, 

much to our dismay, 

your Mummy wears bandages round, 

what do I say? 

 

You return after nursing your Baba,

your Aai's eyes have circles dark purple, 

we exchange our views, 

time, world, and all the life's hues. 

 

Cris-cross jindagi, 

we meet to share the vibe, 

I hold your hand, 

you tug on my life.