bored of drudgery

Let my pean be sung on the mean string of
a lead guitar,
and the wail hide the sigh of ennui
of a life un-lived in contemplation
and a dance
lost to the beats of drudgery !!

Fragrance

He wrote :

Her name was
Fragrance.
Not pungent
as like
the perfumes of
Arabia,
but, mild..
a Water Lilly.

My mobile vibrated
with her melodious voice:
the symptoms of
“Borderline Personality Disorder”
of her husband,
her forlorn cries
when he thrashed
her face, her body…
my mobile resonated
with her knife-like shrieks…
(I couldn’t do anything,
she was far away, very far away)
I too cried, desolately
along with her…

She talked about her
menstrual periods,
(“There is Blood in the Moon”)
the unbearable pain,
that astute and incisive agony
only a Woman would know…
I so wished to comfort her
to stroke her stomach
gently, smoothly, endlessly…
(But there were many
Countries between Us)…

But, I comforted her
with soothing words,
I sent her warm breezes
of the Summer Forest…
I whispered her,
1001 scintillating stories,
about Sathi,
Ardhanareeswara…
The dance of Nataraja,
Lasya, Tandava
(he destroys in order to create,
tearing down to build again)…
and, 'Anandatandava,'
the Dance of Bliss…

(I begged her:
Don’t commit another
“Suicidal Attempt”,
It is enough,
It has been three times now)

I made her read
“Devi Stothram”
every morning,
I convinced her:
In every Woman,
there resides “Devi”…

The Story of her Life
traversed interminably
across infinite Mobile Towers,
taking a zigzag path on the Skies…
(Infinite kites of varying colours,
Zigzag-ing on the Skies)

She once said:
If we lay on bed,
fully naked,
embracing each other,
so stringent,
lest one may lose
the other,
then, there won’t be space
even for a thread,
to pass between our bodies…
She said:
“That is Our Bond”
(That was the happiest moment
In the whole of my Desolate Life)

I did “Sayana Prathikshanam”,
to make her Life more better,
and vomited ceaseless, inside the Temple.

The Story of My Desolate Life too
Zigzag-ed along the Skies
making her cry, helpless…
She told me later:
A fleet of geese
flied just over her head,
cackling strangely,
that “Omniscient” day.

I didn’t know her Address,
She was about to give it to me…
Whenever I dream about her,
I would suddenly awake,
and check my Mobile,
for her 12 Digit Number…

Then, one day,
She stopped calling,
altogether.

I panicked,
and called Her.

A “message” came,
from the other end of the line:
“This Number doesn’t Exist anymore”.

After many varying Seasons,
I still call her,
And I hear the same “message”
(a sharp knife stabs my Soul)
“This Number doesn’t Exist anymore”.

Now, I see the flaring
Gulmohar
outside the window,
of the Hospital Ward…
It knows Everything,
All the Secrets…
Every moment,
I try to extract,
its hidden secrets…

Every moment,
I try to extract,
its hidden secrets