O Sky Of Blues

O moon rolling like a ball

O buildings with windows staring

O million feet walking

O insane traffic

O gutters of Bombay

O gods in temples churches and mosques

O mad cellphones ringing

O screechy loudspeakers in slums

O pigeons on parapets cooing

O lovers in gardens

O grain of sand on the beach

O clothes fluttering in the wind

O flies at garbage dumps

O junkies on the street

O packed trains shuttling

O silent streetlights

O people buying groceries

O food that I eat

O water that I drink

O breath that I breathe

O words of this poem

tell me what I am looking for.

 

The above poem first appeared in my second collection Circling the Sky (2013).

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Meeting

Calling them strange occurrences

would be wrong, yet they seem like that.

As though there was a world

beyond the question-mark

you had to slip into and like.

Here, there is a cauldron of constant

possibilities and impossibilities.

Here, the game plays out,

which will outplay you.

Let us just be grateful that

you and I have met this evening.

In this rain, in this wild horn

of traffic, we stand under

our umbrellas. Let us be grateful

that we have met.

 

The above poem first appeared in Nthposition, and is part of my first book Reeling (2012).