Cows Were Grazing

on the grass

of the teak forest floor

outside my window

it was very peaceful

last evening

now after this morning’s rain

the trees and hills shimmer green

with sunlight

yesterday a monkey came

and was looking at me

I look at myself

slowly recovering

from my illness

in the afternoon

the women

in the house opposite mine cackle

the sky is so beautiful

there are so many colours

orange blue white pink golden grey black

and yesterday

a  woodpecker

yellow body red mane

constantly pecked at my window

like it wanted to say something

now the sky

is blue

and white clouds slowly move

across it

light seeps through the leaves of the trees

I am not alone

so many birds are twittering

and they are all saying hello.



I am a quiet man

I have imaginary conversations with no one

All day my moods shift like waves on a beach

Speaking of the beach I love the sky and birds

I love the buildings of Bombay the sight of lit windows at night

Sometimes my mind gets charged with murderous thoughts

Making me sink like a dead animal’s skeleton in sludge

I hate crowds and noise if it’s hot I sweat a lot

When I was younger my hands and feet would get chilled in the evenings

A boring book can send me into dim despair

Amidst trees I am sad and gloomy amidst mountains and breeze serene

I love to watch sunlight on things

They become magical they take me to my childhood

If I can’t dream it’s death

I love taxi journeys bus-rides

Trains I love their sonorous horn at dawn

I love elephants

I love to watch large white clouds move slowly across the sky

When I get stuck I burn away in anger

When I see glowing streetlights snaking along the road I am lit up a 100 lifetimes over

I become a traffic policeman

I become a prostitute

I become a telephone operator

I become a waiter

I become a stray dog

I become a beggar

I become a magistrate

I become a window pane

I become a local train

I become an aeroplane

I become the falling rain.


The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).


She stood before her gods

dazed like a zombie

the mountains are calm

outside my house

they flow in that zigzag path

and the trees are there listening

“goddess” she cried out

and that patch of houses

is glorious

in the valley below

we cannot understand

white and green

standing in the branches

so pretty

the suffering

it must be painful

let me go let me go she screamed

she thought she was 34

I look at that bald patch of brown

in the mountains

you cannot believe anything

I know

my move here

still the hills and the darkness

hold me in their arms

each night

and the birds come

and peck at my window

their red hoods

their yellow and brown bodies

and the squirrels run in the teak forest outside

we are torn and stitched together somehow

the calm in the mountains

will go with the clouds

but I will hold your hand.