We hold still to avoid the camera shake
As drum tries to catch the  girl’s dance.

Night sheds, in the winter of our time,
Leaf slowly falling its yellow moment.

We hold still, shaking camera in hand,
In a shaking body, to catch a moment.


Beauty on the sly

The reader of my words has all the years.
In his mornings of darkness he will read
Meaning in half told tales, guess contexts

To craftily make beauty in the assembly.
If moves away from truth, let him do so,
Because he is making beauty on the sly.


You are alone in endless earth,
Shut up with its fears under sky.

Fish-worms swim in eye of sky.
You close eyes but they’ll go on

Knotted up and forming a star
Hanging low on the pretty sky.


Money has endless queues in sun,
For old man who has outlived life.

Stand in queue for money to burn
On holy river bank, ashes to ashes.


Off with the bush

A rich green bramble rises alongside
The cenotaphs into a competing sky,
Not that high but what a wind allows.
Wind controls mills in sky and below.

A bramble thinks it controls the wind
Over royal dead under the cenotaphs.
The royal dead do not think anything.
They may like to say off with the bush.

Stone houses

Stones are houses against silences,
Against the eerie midnight ghosts
Who roam the night’s arid wastes.

Stones are not houses against time,
Against a night when village leaves
Holding head high against tyranny.

(Kuldhara is a ghost village near Jaisalmer abandoned overnight, in 19th century, by its residents to escape the tyranny of a ruling Minister who threatened to take the Chief’s daughter by force)