Friday, November 23, 2007

Sunset from the Ghat



The chimneys at the other bank cough out muffled ire.

The dogged looking little boats seem to be on fire

In hope of lighting up the sky mimic starry quiver

Yet in languid meander swells the lazy river.


Of lovers in their sweet embrace, untouched by all vice

In corners within kisses deep, lust lives in disguise.

Vendors in their tattered best, invite in their voice

Vie to make a meal for night. A virgin makes her choice.


Curiosity peeps to see if filth could find its path

To banks of sacred pilgrimage. A Brahmin takes his bath.

The silent tale of Ghats in play; the river sullen quiet.

As sunset kisses whiskey-skies, pheasants make for flight.



Saturday, November 10, 2007

The Other Life


Joy in silent spurts of life

Dilutes bitter grief and pain.

Here with hunger rodents thrive

Crumbs at night but uncertain.


With rags at hand to hold their shame

And tools all battered, broken.

They wander like some herd of game

Their fate in ambush beckon.


Sluice of filth that brimmeth by

Cheap liquor in their veins

Spectres of nude children cry

Pang of Hunger Pains.


Wet and flooded, Grime and blight

Dance in orgy of this life.

Trading gloom for neon lights

The Slums in slumber just survive.