Miscellanies

Or, what I found when I looked into notebooks which were my only friends during meetings past.

Ostentation is in fashion -

Wear your caste, class, house,

hat

Use your clout; shout out

that you've got it

Loud, so that they know you've arrived.

Who says Partition wasn't tangible?

You can touch it in the hardened

identities and fixed ideas we wear

to-day.

Who (not what) underpins you?

Do I?

Is it your self?

Man, woman, other?

F(r)ag~men~t M

E now.

Perhaps this is what is known as self-centred-ness.

I wonder if

it'd still be cold

in Gujarati.

Translation has pitfalls.

Or, perhaps,

into a pit falls.

She has no sympathy for apathy, does our H.

Go already,

Or, Before that cup of coffee

I wake up in the middle of the day,

And I know I want a cup of coffee.

All around me greens are bright and blues are gay -

Bref; it's rarely ever this right.

Just around the bend

across the road from here,

Is a place that sells instant nirvana.

The colours choke you in a million different ways,

And when you breathe?

You become them.

Instant is a good word.

It comes in a cup

frothy.brown:

The future is dune. The future is camel.

Dishy.

Resistance is clearly a dish

best washed down with

a bottle of Bud;

Mainly because Chinese beers haven't hit our markets yet.

Tibetan settlements serve, so,

the best Chinese food.

As ever, consumption creates and perpetuates the norm.

Consumption, you see, needs no gumption. Ingest. Digest. Eject.

It is the currency;

it is the price

of freedom.

I wonder if His Holiness likes Chili Tofu?

Faculty Meeting 2.yawn~oh.

Or,

The day after World Music Day,

isn't one on which we're going to play:

Stuck in a moment I can't get out of,

In despair - sheer, utter -

all I can do is my weary head lay

on this 'ere desk.

After all, 'tis said that poetry comes out of misery.

I'm about to find out.

One more cup of coffee 'fore I go

You cannot force silence

into a shape

to fill the shoes

of a story-sized hole.

You cannot make it speak in tongues.

You cannot make it speak at all.

Is it vulnerable?

Is silence strong?

Can it hurt her?

Can silence be wrong?

To end in the beginning,

In Bombay, they had told him

to land in white flannel.

He did. The rest is his~story.