Across the table,
a lingering sigh,
an indecent couple.

I smile nonetheless,
my unforgiving sadness.

मी गात कुणाच्या ओळी,
स्वप्नात विरुनी गेलो.
त्या नसलेल्या नात्याला,
मध्येच का विसरलो?
अर्ध्या सूर्यास्ताला,
आठवणींचा पूर येतो.
एकट्या संध्याकाळी,
शब्दात मी हरवतो.
अवेळी सुचले का हे?
कोवळे उनच होते.
एकाकी या क्षणाचे,
उगाच का भय होते?

वाट

खूप कविता आहेत
संध्याकाळी वाटे कडे तक लावून बसण्याबाबत
दिवस ढळल्यावर, तो कधी परत येईल या काळजीत.

भर दुपारी, टळटळीत उन्हात मी पहात आहे वाट.
माझं आसूसलेपण कळलंच नाही या लेखकांना.
पण तुलाही कळू नये?

संध्याकाळी तरी तू येशील या आशेने,
आता संध्याकाळीचीच वाट पहात बसले मी.
किमान हि वाट आहे सोबतीला.

- मी

I remember this one fine evening,
I was sitting in a coffee shop,
with some spanish music playing.

I remembered her, her though, I did not know.

A smile at that thought.
A sip of the coffee gone cold.

I picked up a pencil, for a pen there was not,
to scribble these lines, on a lonely tissue.

या पांढर्या ऋतुत, काळी निशाण वाहती...
माझ्या मायेची ग हाक, दिवे लागण जाहली.

प्रांजळ मनाची, ही प्रांजळ प्रार्थना...
हा अंधार एकाकी, तरी ही का सोडवेना?

निष्पर्ण झाडी येथे, हे गवतही स्तब्ध.
का आक्रोश उरला, का रडू आले फक्त?

Had the most wonderful experience today at the National Gallery in London today evening. I was in the room which showcased works by Van Gogh and Monet - the impressionist stuff. I stood in front of Long Grass With Butterflies, a painting by Van Gogh, and there was this woman with a 7-8 year old daughter of hers, looking at the same painting. I could not hear them clearly, but they were mostly french. The mother was explaining the painting to her daughter in a most fascinating manner. Her vivid hand gestures, and rapid french were much more intriguing than the painting itself. And I found myself looking at them rather than the painting. It had the reality of real life itself, and the impressionist abstraction of an incognizable language.

It was arguably the richest performance I have ever witnessed.

If I had cut my finger instead,
and presented it to you,
as a gift.
Would you have accepted it?

Maybe that's what I have to do,
when my eyes run dry.
Perhaps not.
Perhaps the dryness will,
bring along with it,
some sanity.


,and i might not have to kill myself after all.