Friday, January 30, 2004

On Reading a Letter from your Beloved

I read the hand written
letter from my beloved,
with my heart.
Not with my eyes.

Line by line.
Between the lines.
Between the words…

The margins,
the postscripts,
all are very special
and enlightening to me.

The commas, full stops.
the paragraphs.
All the punctuations
are seriously dissected.

I even hold the letter
against the light,
to see if there are any
hidden messages.

The style of the
hand writing
itself is intoxicating,
as distinct and exciting
as the writer.

Oh, I get a kick just by
feeling the kind of
paper it is written on.

Why, even the envelope looks
so sensuous to me !

Ah ! For a man
who gets so turned on
by the hand
written words,
my practical,
unsenti woman sends me
short, to the point,

I guess, I have
a very valid point
for breaking up
this relationship….

Or does she ?

Thursday, January 22, 2004

If Only...

If only…

I can stop seeing your
face among the teeming mass of multitudes.

I don’t hear your beckoning voice
among the urban street day to day clutter.

I don’t smell you
every time I see a champa/parijatha/mallige.

I can stop myself exclaiming
“Hey ! Listen to this…”, every time I read
something funny…

I can find the TV remote/car keys/
the book I was reading yesterday
by myself.

You don’t
come to haunt me in
the still of the night.

I don’t search for ur e-mail id
among my incoming mail.

…horses could fly.