At Work

Akshay wouldn't have believed it if it hadn't been confirmed by his mother. She was not someone who ever lied. She had a miscarriage five years before he was born. In other words, he lost an elder brother just because he wasn't born.

When he asked her what his brother's name would have been, she said there couldn't be any would-have-beens in this case. It didn't simply make any sense to name an unborn child. But when Akshay wanted to know how his unnamed, unborn brother would have looked like, his mother just answered that he was just a piece of flesh, unformed. Oh no - unnamed, unborn, unformed...it was getting on his nerves.

Akshay thought his mother was hiding something, because she refused to answer any more questions on the subject. He couldn't wipe away the doubt - how could she know that it was a 'he' if it was just an unformed piece of flesh?

It was difficult to forget the fact that there had been an unseen, unsensed presence of a brother in his life till now. And he is already eight years old. Why did everyone hide this information from him? Did they think that it was a trivial piece of information? It was not so for him. He had the right to know every detail about himself. And he thought that the existence of his brother, whether he was born or not, had a lot of influence on what he was. He was not the kind to long for things that never existed. He never felt alone, despite the fact that he was the only child of his parents. He never even considered the possibility of having a brother, not even in his dreams. But now, things were different.

Akshay couldn't contain himself, and it was not easy to be left alone when he was in such a mood. His mother was busy in the kitchen, oblivious to his raising heartbeats. In order to find a way out of his misery, he walked to the backyard of the house. It was already getting dark, and he was not supposed to go there. His house sat precariously on a hillock, and the steep decline at the backyard led to a valley that looked beautiful in daytime. But in the night, it was not safe to go there, because there was a chance to slip on the overgrown grass and fall downwards. Akshay was careful despite his troubled state of mind, and he just sat on a rounded rock and stared to the darkness that wriggled to the valley. To his surprise, there were a lot of fireflies there, doing a wild dance in the air. He loved it so much that he even forgot about his brother for a moment. But then, thoughts about him came back in full force.
It's a pity that his brother never even tried to talk with him, Akshay thought. How could he ignore a little brother like that! Anyway, now that he got to know about this brother ... well, he needs to call his brother by a name. Akshay thought hard for a long time, and finally a name dawned on him. Akash. Yes, that sounds really good and it rhymes with his own name as well.

Loser Takes It

My gaze sets the scene

for your worries,

a man who can't be his age, all his

intellect trapped in cut to shape,

pressed, somewhat tight apparels of

politeness, good manners,

the mind that holds on to iron bars

and screams for freedom

escapes your eyes.

Had we the time

to enter dingy rooms of nonsense,

to stay long enough to

make some sense of them,

to cross the threshold, break speech-boundaries,

nonstopness of noises in the name

of music,

wild beats like morphine in the veins,

or nerves, or whatever,

artificial colour pools, fake rainbows,

death of drunk paralysis,

had we

the insanity to hold reluctant hands

I see your toenails, painted blue

so strange, your feet

look blue too

from nine-inch style-burden,

but they speak to me better

than your feigned freshness

of smiles, thoughts, fancies

They have a new product

that reduces the smell of a corpse

that rises from my thoughts,

a new drug which makes one

think less, and be a peacock

They used to check the books

I carried, now I carry none,

but they inspect my Notebook now,

everywhere - they have no doubt

in my power to corrupt

people like them,

all happy peacocks

Don't look into my eyes,

they will drain your dreams

Oh, I wish I had a glimpse of you

before you came out, to make sure

that you were the you I saw

on the picture the agent gave me,

a glossy picture, all colours,

and eyes hidden in thick make-up,

but I know now that you are you,

I just need to avoid your eyes

Just be with me, I paid for this,

and know how to get more than

what you can give, stay,

don't cross the threshold,

don't spill the rainbows out of your tears,

I can't take too much reality,

let me be a freak, for a day

or two,

can't you see my despair?

Palmistry

The lines of life on my palm,
formed so hard in a fistful
of neo-natal agonies,
altered faintly through the pen-holding
keypad tapping days,
faded a bit through the hand-holding
tear-wiping phases,
destined to speak of my identity
beyond all invented categories...
they remain so certain, so well-marked
like a road-map that will lead me
one day to what I haven’t seen,
dreamt, of my ultimate mis/fortunes.

Deceived

My Albatross soars
in its dream battles
of green hopes
for a sweet while
and wakes up just in time
to be back
to the stormy times
of blames and stares,
hanging blissfully dead
from a silly neck.

Wordless Worlds

There used to be a time when bodies
did the talking. An eyebrow raised
in queries above noises, a finger
rubbing peace to the small of one's back,
lips pressed to grief galore,
an embrace that melts all doubts.
The wordless worlds we pass through
in silent ritualistic heavings leave us
cold. We refuse to see or listen
to the needs of mindbodysoul flailing
helpless limbs in the void. Time to
stop blaming the things we built
and think of the hands that lost
the magic. Or, let us just lie
facing each other like fish out of water
shaking life out in loveless sighs.