SHE #8

SHE #8

She makes me feel like a toddler

"Baba, can we count all the stars?"
On a star-spilling roof
On a load-shedded Calcutta night
(A magical Calcutta night)
How will the buds next door bloom by the morning?
What do the fireflies eat to shine so bright?
How does a moment feel to pass her by, forever?
The sacred geometry of her curves
The restless dynamics of her furious, ticking mind
How does the universe regret not crashing unto her feet?

She makes me feel like a toddler

"You can count them stars"- said my old man
"All of them, here, start from the Pole"
Like then,as now, I CAN
Count these tinkling seconds that lead to her
Twinkling like the stars
Its good to be a toddler, after all these years.

I watched this film, The Holiday recently. Loved the relationship they depicted between a senile and once famous hollywood screenplay writer (Arthur) and a woman, perhaps in her early 30's, who has come to LA on a vacation. I wonder how it would be to fall in love at an old age. I guess it is getting back the gift of wonder, a gift we are all born with but one that erodes as we grow up. I feel love can bring back that gift. As a kid I used to enquire of my father everything that would arouse my curioisity, these days I enquire of myself everything I find curious in this girl I know. I guess that sense of wonder has become more internal now, I wondered if that had been the case with Arthur.

  

The River Girl (She #7)

I met a river high up the mountains.

 Nascent, now she twists and then she turns
 Just free from clutches of momma glacier,
 Restless, she scoffs and then she roars
 As she speeds by broken hearts, of many a lover dear.


 I met a river deep into my youth.

 There is music in her new found gait
 Dance, in her serpentine motion
 Some turns are abstract poetry, like confidence in a newly teenaged girl 
Some curves are self doubt, a newly pimpled boy in infatuation.


 I met a river deep in ecstasy. 
In love with herself as she brought the moon down
 And let the pack of clouds gulp it
 She turned red, blushed, enjoying assiduous attention
 Of meditative mountains, keenly watching sun, waking meadows-- all voyeuristic. 


 I met a river like a Byzantine empress.

 They both didn't know where to go
 But are out to build a queendom 
They both will break a few things-- hearts, fences, rocks
 (And build many more)
 As they embark on their quest for freedom.


 "Don't talk about a prince"- she said
 " Nor about the sea" - she said
 " Never settle"- they said together
 The more you travel, nearer you are to who you are.


I met a girl high in the mountains
 I met a river deep in her conscience

SHE #4

She is rare.

Like an unlit street in bombay
Like an unlit street in Bombay
Like an unlit street and starry night in Bombay
Like an unlit street, a starry night and a deserted Bombay
Like 2 lonely young beings under a starry night walking by an unlit street in deserted Bombay

She is rare
Like darkness, solitude, silence, a wish granted or a shooting star
Like a corporate honcho's heart laid bare

SHE #3

To think of her is to listen to Desert Rain (Indian Ocean)

You marvel at sheer possibilities, infinite avenues

Of harmony, of life, of having a life

Through the murky clogged canals

Of incentives, emi's, debts and raises

(A desolate moonlit night, a brook and a raft)

She wafts through, butter under knife.

She #2

To catch the first pearls of dawn
I need not wait for the sun to rise, nor wake up early
I see sunrise everytime her lips part
And her face make a pinkish smiley

SHE

She smells of a new book
All her stories alive,
Of distant oceans
Of 2 lofty mountains
In their womb, a brook
Her eyes a page mark,a constant reminder
To know more I must strive