‘Don’t you feel hot?’
stepped in my colleague
post lunch
turning the fan on.

‘I felt something’s wrong
but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what’,
I replied, extracting the hanky.

It happens…

It happens
just like
everything else
that happens anyway,
desired or not,
quite unknowingly;
falling into patterns.

How many deaths
do I need to die
till I DIE?

The Outsider?

There descended
at his doorstep
along with the
dipping sun
the messenger.

He overheard him
squatting in the kitchen
and finished
the potful of rice
and fish curry
in a hurry.

Then he proceeded
to see the deceased,
his mother.

Don’t say…

Don’t say,
'forget it’,
never ever.

For, from the rage
against forgetfulness
comes forth;
madness, poetry
and the like.

And hence,
don’t say
‘forget it’,
never ever.