Naina Agarwal

I wear coffee stains, wear ink stains, lose my appetite, burn my food, spoil my lipstick, darken my kohl, bite my nails, scratch on desks, peel my eyebrows, razor my hair, pierce my chin, tattoo my waist, ignore my calls, stare at walls, hit my car, break my cell, smash my glasses, break my knuckles, feed my anxiety, eat my anger, skip Bryan Adams, skip Woody Allen, skip strawberries, skip vodka shots, swear in public, sigh in private, talk to strangers, block strangers, hate strangers, breathe cigarettes, doodle hearts, shield windows, fall off the treadmill, bleed poetry, leave the lights on, and refrain from dreaming at night. The things I do for you. *** 

They tell me of the chaos,  I see them struggling through. They pull me to be a-part, I ask them to let me work it through. I tell them of those banks, Where the fish swim in queue;  In colours of green and pink;  Atop the sky silver-blue. They tell me of the New World,  And the ongoing hullabaloo.  I tell them to wait for the Spring  When the lilies would be in bloom. Let’s go see those banks,  Let’s see the sky blue, Before the world goes down the abyss,  For we shall be carried there too.  *** 

Picture Courtesy: Anupama Sengar When a traveller on his journey Sits on the rock by the side; A mistress on the couch Removes her heels after the night; A bouncer in the club Returns home fixing the fight; A mother slowly reads The handwritten letter of her child; Then sigh silently creeps to convey feelings you can’t confess.  When a reader or a writer Finishes the book and closes his eyes; A widow or a bride Looks at stars beyond the skies; A waitress or a customer Drinks in a club on Christmas Eve; And a lover or beloved Draws patterns with fingertips, Then sigh comes in discreet to coat the silence of the soul. Love, longing, anger, and hurt; Intense ardors, exhaustion and lust. Chore of a lover; poet’s ink; Soldier’s nightmare; silence’s skin. ***