Flight!

Don’t call me tonight- the dream is hard, graphic and rather bright in the sense- it deals with everything that would raise hackles- so don’t, there is nothing I can do- call 911, you would get your breaks and a fancy flight…

Don’t call me at midnight- I sweat, rather shocked and uptight at the bizarre things that go on, there! You see there is someone I just met, and I am looking into her eyes, wondering… about what- nothing but the flights of fancy and blight!

Don’t at all think that we have had enough- yet!

A flight of cranes
Would stalk soon-
On long legs
A peck
A peek-
A give
A take
And the unhappy worm
Squirming
With the tuna
In the beak!

Imagine
The sober facts
An archer firing a blowgun
The zodiac man
Bear hugging
An assassin of snakes
Fondling the dean’s wife
Past her prime
And sublime
Malignant desires
On fancy’s flight

Don’t call me- this dream is what keeps me alive!

Don’t you see, tonight there is a tryst of morbid interest, what scares you is my delight! I look for the things that are- well why should I trust you tonight? It is a chance encounter, in a bed, in an oblong spread in a cubicle, snug, chest to breast- and deeper in cushioned sweat… and spite-

Flight!

A Chance Encounter!

This happened long away- I was about 17, happy and about to make many decisions in life- including a career in writing poetry. I was walking through the lakes in Southern Calcutta, when something drew my attention... arghhhh!

The Sad Poet from Ballygunge Lake on a Bad day!

Bonolata (Pronounced: Bow Noh Law Ta)

Poet Horse-Face, our neighborhood one
Wrote poems under the evening Sun,
But one day, his pen went dry,
Sensing the presence nearby,
Of lovers in utter bliss,
Sen, Bonolata, forty, but still, a Miss,
With her handsome bashful beau,
Lahiri, Laltoo, the bald Romeo!
The breeze was so inviting
Wafts of tulips on the wing….
The duo, oblivious of all others there,
Broke status quo and shattered the air!
Bonolata did the banal thing,
Tone deaf, she began to sing-
But Horse-Face, the neighborhood one
Missing the point in his rhyming run,
The miserably irate bard skulked away,
Wishing the offenders would no longer stay!

Somewhat later, the said song waxed,
The duo appeared very relaxed,
Bonolata asked “How was it”,
Our Laureate offered “Horrible shit”!
A bit too loud, the lovers were hurt,
Disheartened by this ugly spurt,
Hand in hand they walked away!
Horse-Face finally had his day,
Reinstated in his regained seat,
Horse-Face was in domain legit!
Two seconds later he wrote an epithet,
Ecstasy in four letter words- you can bet!

Ballygunge Lake,
Kolkata
May16, 1966

Fading Away

In the beginning
A single voice
And the light and shade
Played naked
Ruinous games
In torrid dampness
And sweat!

Far away from the cicadas
I lay down
Myself
On the marbled floor
Gasping-
The touch of ice flakes!

Time
Once again
Had fled-
Memories in their rhythmic walk
Ebbed
And the stars
Closed in
On my lake!

Sunrise-
I am dead!

Untruths!

I asked you

As I played -
Your head nestled

On my chest

And I stared

At the eyes, whose voids

Made a patterned snare

Was it Venus at her best?

I asked you
As you peeped
And you murmured
Squirming
In sweetness
Like always
Or may be
You put me to the test
Tangled at last
In the transparent cords
Tendrils and fingers spoke
Softly in a tryst
I always believe you
Knowing some words
You speak
Are true
And because
Only half of my lies
Are untrue
As much as a laced web
Without threads!

False Promise

Sometimes I drive by her lane
And ask her to hop in and chat-
She stares hard at me and yells
Shoo- you aint getting that,
But yes, she is my friend,
Also that I must make some amends!

Sometimes ago she had climbed in
Into the car, admiring my things,
And did that too, you know what
When I asked, happily she said yes,
She liked to be with her friends
But my car was a thing she always

Craved to be in, for she stood
At the corner, forever waiting
Looking for someone to do it good
For this, and more of that thing
Every time at the back of the car
I guess I had to take her a bit too far-

I guess she had taken a fancy to me
My waving at her, and she was happy
Obligingly she would get into the car
Asking to be driven quite far
Leaning into each other, of ecstasy
And that glint of desire I could see-

You know my car is usually dirty
She would stare at the dirty mess
She would clean it up, and the popcorn
Made me a little full of happiness
And snuggle closer, without preamble, before long
And she sang sometimes, a dreamy song

And then one day, as I passed her by,
Not really meaning that, not really knowing why
I looked away and did not wave, I never cared
I knew she looked my way and hard she stared
With a bit of the tears I had never seen
It was just that my car was new and clean!

So now, when I drive by her lane
And ask her to hop in and chat-
She stares hard at me and yells
Shoo- you aint getting that,
But yes, she is my friend,
And also that I must make some amends!

Oh yes, this is like
Missing out on the turn off in the day
And driving into the sunset
Alone
In the loser’s highway!

Urgent Thoughts

A year before sixty is the best time to go-
I am alive, fully functional, and all know
That a time like this never comes
When you have had three large
And then, there is the splurge
Two more, ah, yah and oh,
Ah got to go,
Got to go
Or do it here!

Urchin Land

Between here and nowhere
Through the land of the coal rich terrain
The urchins ran in
Wherever it was, the train had stopped-
And there she came
A young leader
Hardly dressed
Transiting between
Child and woman
And her band
Three siblings, perhaps
And they sang their toneless song
Spread their hands
And danced to Bidi Jalaile!
And the gents
Baring their teeth
Grinned-
Her dress had holes
And torn patches showed
Anatomical details
And how the black dust
On her feet
And dirty hair
Called for lust
In the eyes of the traveling males
So I puffed away,
Dazed
The pennies given,
The eyes knew
What they wanted
The urchins stood ground
And the guard
And the engine blew
Whistles of jeer
All aboard
The sad girl stared
Darkness came
And the men continued their card game
One club
One heart
Three no trumps
And they all thought of the thighs-
And the hand pump
They left behind
On the platform!

Bidi Jalaile is a popular song in Hindi- rather lustfully done in celluloid and video!