Scoobee Doo

The long day, just got longer,
The chin too narrowed,
And claimed a little more of the curved edge.
This was after my trip into nostalgia,
Stopped somewhere in the mid afternoon.
There is nothing one can do
When nostalgia abruptly comes to a stand-still.
Nostalgia is not always
A tear-dropping handkerchief-wetting
Moment of careless pedigree,
No, sometimes, you are staring at the fog
Of light, we call the sun, taking notes of happenings
Around you. Still a foot, an eye or a rib
In the past is not always a bad thing.
Looking back, is solving those mysteries
Of the heart, which are just like,
Smarties or jellybeans, coming
Color-coded. The darkest being
The most ominous. And still we open
A pack, listening to Jon Secada
Singing “Just another day”,
But it rarely is. Its like unfolding
A pancake to find what the filler
Is – savory or sweet. And in that flat epiphany
You will start to believe that
All this bother, to recollect,
Is just an age-stamped edition
Of groping in retrospection.
And in that lesson of torment,
You haunt yourself with the past you,
And all you do at the end, is chase ghosts
Of the pasts, just to give you an
Extra zap, like a heart-quenching
Scooby snack.




Just the ambivalence of not
Having the security of memory
Of the time-folded moment.

Lapsed, carried on a ferry
To a far-away land
No recollection, no ribbon-tied
Bonanzas of little fables
With a message at the end.

No fortune cookie endings, no aphorisms
To knot, the idiosyncracy of knowing
There is something and yet
The dimensions and the occupancies
Appear to slip away like run-off.

And yet in these forgotten trails
There lies blooms of forget-me-nots
Like the source of a river
Beneath the fog. When the heart knew implicitly
To charge the body with
Another’s electricity.

And life is no bunny
It is the axiological retention
Of time, in an enclosed place
That drifts anterograde

Worth is just an arras of a yesteryear
Dipped in sweet nostalgia
To indulge as a confectionary.

Nostalgia (Dedicated to all my friends)


You can’t make a microscopic slide
Of a bone to see what life exists inside.

You can still take a photograph
From the past, to see bubbling eyes
Frothing skin and time climbing out
Through the silhouette of a loved one
To connect a day of remembrance
With an epoch of life

We are always microscopists
Looking back in time at one person
Who became magnified, larger than life to you,
Like a whale or God or the universe.

A man or woman
Who left an inventory inside your heart
That keeps on appreciating with time.

We have a word in the English
Language to describe that – we call that nostalgia.



Twinkle are little stars
Diamonds inside little irises.

Only love, incalculable with no formula
Resting in one infinity sign

And a child’s face is the perfect moon
Enumerating innocence, smile it seems

Is paying it forward. A beacon with a beam.
Love is the only space craft

Needed to land on the moon turf. And love
Is the only condition – an offering of charity –

And through the universal scrolls of parenthood
Man makes child one like him

Maturation is when a diamond
Becomes a lump of graphite. And a pencil head scripts

A story of listless spells of cynicism
Broken only by childlike nostalgia

To be that child again, a caterpillar
On a mulberry leaf. Man is just a journeyman

Of a body decaying forward
And a heart caught in tidal currents

Of retrograde transport.

Rum and Coke

Staring at the rim
Of a glass of rum and coke
Where temptation is a ball full of eye
And taste, heaven on tongue tip
As the glass rose and the lips lowered
There was only enough room for saliva and carbon dioxide
To crash in to each other – on the meniscus
When melancholia drowned in firewater
And the vapor of nostalgia saturated the heart
As for a demi-hour, memory lane
Was a promenade of an inebriated chamber
When footsteps tiptoed through the mist
To find a sediment of love
As a vestigial fossil

rum and coke

Moving On

I let go of you

Every miserly fragment of longing

Every stubborn memory 

Every lingering morsel of pain

I let go of you every day, every hour, every second

Until I found myself letting go

To all my heart owned 

Until every node, every cell, every artery 

Was cleansed of your residue

As my exorcism of you

Awoke in me a perennial tranquility

As if the wind had vacated her night vigil

Where deep within my extant soul

Was a mass extinction of nostalgia

As I exhaled you out of my system

And inhaled in a beautiful strain

Of an empowering solitude