The Gift

If you want to sate
My whimsical wants
That need more than
An overflowing bank account,
Know then
That what you hold now
Is the shopping list you never made.

I want you to listen
To the pounding beats of Led Zep
And the soothing strains of Darbari
To the polyphonic bells at an aarti
And the quivering notes of the ajaan.
The high-pitched nasal wars of a qawwaali
And the alto games of a church choir.
To the wails of a widow
And the labour-cries of a mother-to-be.

Listen -
To the drums of fire on your brow
Hammered by the Egyptian sun.
The waltz of the snowflakes
In the frozen lands of Norway.
The breathless rap of
the humid clusters of Calcutta.
And the lazy ballroom swing
Of the drunken warmth of California.
To the unifying symphony
Of the chaotic orchestra of our world
That plays because it exists.

I want you to feel with me
The hypnotic pull of an unread book,
The joy of a headlong dive
Into a different ocean each time
To come out together
Fresher, older and wiser.

I want you to open your eyes
To Ghalib, Hemmingway, Marquez and Paash.
To play
With Alice and that Potter boy.
To laugh with Peter Cook,
Weep with Gorky
And in the process learn to read
That which is not writ
in script with ink and pen.

I want you to hog on
Ice cream in winters
And steaming halwa in summers.
To experience
French sugar rolls and Mexican hot meats
And then realize
That parantha at Balbir’s next door
Is no different from
A pizza at Jo’s on a New York street
In the pleasure that it gives
To an empty stomach.

I want you to feel the thrill
When Raul shoots for a goal.
To aim at a cunning snooker ball.
To stamp your foot
On losing an easy game.
To trap a knight
With a rook and a pawn.
To swim some laps with me
And to understand
That the game of life is thus played
On a well worn, slightly tilted carom board.

I want you to lose yourself
In the mystical mazes of Hinduism
Half-drunk on the wine of Christ.
Then find a way out
Through the lamp-lit corridors of Islam
Only to find Buddha grinning at you.
To get disoriented with the overflow
Of names, myths and beliefs
And, tired, take shelter
In the only philosophy that makes sense
From beggars to kings-
To live.

To ride the rings of smoke
Through pink and green rhapsodies.
To drown in cheap liquor
Sometimes.
To blaspheme with all your might
Against any and every rule
That stifles you (or doesn’t)
Just for the heck of it.
And show them
That you obey coz’ you want to
And not coz’ you are.

I want you to know
How a crazy race
Between some tiny molecules
Makes us angry and then glad.
How the pithy difference of polarity
Makes a lemon a lemon
And an orange an orange.

I want you to help me
Find the answers
To grandma’s white hair
To Shomu’s madness
To bloodied swords
To ever-growing population.

I want you to see
How easily a venerable aspect
Turns into a horrid mockery.
And how a joke
Suddenly becomes memorable.
How things are taken for granted
And how, in turn,
The soft whisper of time
Sets right the jaundice of our eyes.

See -
How relations change
And emotions don’t.
How one word can mean so much
That everything else means nothing.

I want you to know
This world is nothing
If not a contradiction in itself.
And this disparity blends seamlessly
In the wilderness around us.
And this war goes on and on.
And it’s all so beautiful.

And when you’ve walked thus far
Turn on me the eyes
That have seen and want more,
And let my words fall
On ears that have heard
So much, yet not enough.
Yes, then I’ll say,
“Thank you.
Let’s live some more.”

Can You Hear Me?

Through time I have traveled
Back to this moldy room.
Sifted through trinkets of thought
And pulled out pictures
I had once besmirched.

Why have I wiped the grime
Off them?
Why do I try to read in them
Stories absurd and unending
That I couldn’t years ago?
Why do I cherish those long-forgotten moments
Irrelevant to you and me?

Why do I try to guess
What you look like now
From that faded portrait
In my mind?
Ask cunning questions
to find out
Things no one wants to reveal?

Why do I travel
On rickety buses
To the place where I hope you are.
Why do I scan burkha-clad faces
And jump at every pair of hazel green eyes,
That stare back -
Non-committal above the black fabric?

That dargah where you kneel often,
Those sugar-stained sepulchers,
Those perfumed courts,
Those dingy stairs,
Amulets bought under a candlelit bridge,
Why are they so dear to me?

These dusty streets
And grimy cars
The new multiplex
And drums of tar
Politely curious men
Severely obscure women.
The thirri and the rickshaw
That know you so well
Now beckon me
With their enigmatic tales.

Here I am
In your city
Amidst your people
Breathing in the air
That carries your scent
Treading and revering your paths
Under your sky
And the colossal clock tower.
Rubbing shoulders with those
Who feel your presence everyday.

I want to feel you, too.

If I pass you
You – in your neutral burkha,
Will you recognize me?
Do you have my picture
In a cobweb covered treasure trove, too?
Do you feel an urge to open it,
Rummage and reach out for
Those few frames of history –
Yours and mine?

If I tell you
“I’ve come.”
Will you be shocked?
That this worthless man still remembers you.
Happy?
That the idiot has an unjust perseverance, too.
That he still hasn’t give up.
Sad?
That these pains shall go unnoticed
Again and again.
Because it’s too late.

Will you kneel in your room
And pray that I go back
To my time?
Pray that I
Expel your air from my lungs,
Wipe your soil off my shoes
Plug out the cries of ajaan
And rewind to sanity
On those broken roads
In a sleepy bus
Never to return again?
Bury that picture
Behind a thousand locks
And switch the light off forever?

There is no decision here.
If this is madness, I choose it.
Searching for a glimpse,
Waiting for a whispered reply
To my persistent cries -
If only to prove me right or wrong
In so many things
You made me choose between
So many years ago -
Is better than
Living a haunted night
With dreams of
Brown hair smelling of homemade shampoo,
The cardamom-scented breath tickling my neck
And the green eyes I remember so well
Laughing, crying at and ignoring my pain.

I will find you.
Someday.
Somewhere.
Somehow.