Open Season

now what?
we’ve bitched and hissed
at all this
the dj the wedding
the wait never ending
the unfriendly bride
and the vulgar side
of both families
that display dowry and dominion
as if they were de rigueur
so unlike us
with out classy ways
and quiet days
no dance or dowry for us
we’ll sit and talk and
make a fuss
that the music’s loud
and the make up too
and of relatives proud
this just won’t do
and eat our fill
and have our fun
dress up talk down
and act as one
in our collective boycotting
of
what passes off for
fun these days
oh these big city people
and their
decadent ways
and weeks after
we’re still at it
dissecting bisecting
seeing what fits
bringing up all questions
of laddoos and loyalty
of family gossip
of history
till one day
her father dies
expected yes, not a surprise
and yet guilt’s fingers
tease our souls
we’re ashamed
truth be told
how do we undo
all that’s been said
even if in private
at the breakfast table
in bed
oh maybe she was
just stressed out
the wedding her father
why even i’d want to shout
the music is good
and the dance they do?
that’s old tamil culture
there’s a history there too
she was polite
when we met her now
the shock must have
changed her
and how
well as long as they’re happy
the wedding was grand
and maybe god has other plans
but guilt’s fingers
are a stronghold
on me
they force me to see
haul me up to
acknowledge
that bitching is easy
and fun too
but some of it, all of it
may well haunt you.

Wilde

my words reflect an unlife
i am after all only
woman whore wife
i am only the keeper of all
things good
i do not keep the many
facets i forsook
adventurer dervish mad seer
saint
i could have been
could be
all the colours you paint
but now these lines
do the talking for me
take you into my world
and try to make you see
this life
these choices
i have made
they are not half bad
the tears i have shed
and the joys
are the best i’ve ever had

Lullaby

i love the sounds
of my city winding down
a shutter pulled
the last pitcher filled
the tinkling of bangles
as laundry is put away
the sputtering of candles
as night gets underway
secret lovers kiss
their caresses point them out
a baby’s gentle laugh
mother love
flows from its mouth
dogs are a-baying
feet run swift on dew
they turn a corner and are gone
before I even knew
prayers are said
doors secured
with bolts and chains galore
family calls out to take stock
behind closed doors
the steady beat of the watchman’s stick
brings calm to the mind
but his whistle
sporadic as it is
wakes me up every time
in the alleys tomcats yowl
the clank of an upturned can
nightmares are chased away
brows soothed by an understanding hand
bedclothes are smoothened
arms enfold
bodies hold one another through the night
the wind howls pleads cajoles
limbs feel the cold
and hold on tight
my city is asleep
its people at peace
warm in sleep’s embrace
good night god bless sweet dreams
poetic nights
profound days