New pages for Literature: 1. Hindi poems on videos page. 2. My column in NBT on culture page. 3. My own English poems remain on this page.

Please note that the poems and essays on this site are copyright and may not be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

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this blog is compilation of poems written over a period of time. the new posts would appear with the dates.. help yourselves!

young lover

Her body.
The Body.
T h e B o d y !

The tiny golden hair
of her knees,
inspire many thoughts
amongst them – this poem.

I’m not that old at forty two
but when you hold her waist
while she slept, for hours
and played with her thighs
and re-realized that cheeks
are a great place to kiss,
to touch..
Ah the smell of her armpits
she is the youth.
I am old –
Old lucky bastard.

under the featherweight
of her caress..
my earlobes are suddenly red,

Faces and sounds flash by.
Who is this green-eyed boy
she calls her cousin?
And endless calls from friends?
What the fuck do they talk about,
all day long?

She laughs like an angel,
she moves like a butterfly
amongst her friends.
Who are they?
Images images
giggles giggles
images.. giggles.. faster faster
its getting noisier in head.

Shut up already and sleep.
I order. I plead.
My body is too warm now.
She rolls away in sleep.
I lay motionless.
Who was she dating
two months ago?
Before she met me?

Now I’m not even sure
how I performed.
Although, she kisstold me I was great.
I turn to her-
her skin is flawless.
Am I enough for her?

Women of my age group,
appear different in sleep.
They look thankful
that they got laid.

red pumps

Blue pumps with blue dress
red pumps with black

red shoes

Product of lust
satan worshiping
red pumps

My neighbor’s wife
has two pairs..
actually three!
She bought
a new pair last week

Red lipstick to go with
she no longer mixes colors.
She knows
that I am fascinated

I also know –
when her husband travels..

‘Hon..’ my wife was asking,
we were in Walmart,
‘..and these?’
‘Too bold!!’
‘Humm..’ she agreed

Red pumps are not for her.

I am ready
to ball you over!
I am good,
you have to buy me.

Your red tie
is stained,
nostril hair-
need mowing,
you hold my future.

You started with
why you love this place
why is this place the best,
as you are.

A course later,
I know how you fought back
your misfortune
of earlier years.
Your cell phone rang,
your wife
is not an easy person.
But you laugh and say,
‘love you too doll’

you dropped your spoon

I pinched my friend,
she cracked up –
to your corny joke
to give you
more confidence,

She is a tease,
you hold my future
maybe its working..
a-ha, its working
we are in business.

You like her hair.


you’re not needed anymore!’
Flabbergasted, you laughed.
‘wa..? I’m your star pitcher man’
‘were!, you’re not hungry anymore!’

Words were as cold
as his hunger had turned
after a greedy first season.

* * *

I found hunger
in your eyes.
‘its thirst for quest’
you tried explaining.

But I knew.

Hunger owns everything –
Serial killers
Loving mothers
The rains
The nights

if only, children
were not dying (of hunger)
product of
mean hungry capitalism
I’d glorify you
and happily declare
‘hunger is mother of
our entire civilization’

* * *

They pray,
to not be hungry.
I’m grateful,
for insatiability.


A mother can be weak
never a whore
a Mrs. may be busy
never a whore

a mistress may have PMS
a daughter – sick father,
who’d sleep
and not read stories
a dog angry
a home cold
but never a whore.

scarlet woman
with long eye lashes

you wash
your unfulfilled
dreams at her ghats*
She will clean you
give you sense of pride
so you can go back
and love your children
and their mother

she doesn’t have
fear of being wrong
you do

She was there
when you retired.
The same street
under same lamp post
when you first met her.
At fifteen,
you were already behind
your friends.

She is always there
She will always be there
her face might change.

Ghat* : stairway leading down to water in a river


photo synthesis,
asian economy,
big bang,
deep impact,
solar cars,
You effortlessly talk
on everything.

I think you are genius.
I am not,
I just love you

You are out there –
from zenith
to culmination
to light
to moon.

I have this small house,
a little corner,
I offer good cooking,
and good sleep,
to you.

Stay a bit!
is all I ask.

Tripping with stoicism
and presumptions
you evade
questioning eyes.

So, I conspired.
To invent a trap for you
a poem
to seduce you.

If my poem doesn’t work,
its not my last invention.


Fecund dreams
born off –
well irrigated fields of

of you and me
awaken in the night

Thoughts bloom
into endless longings
and still seeking

drenched in
warm torrential rain
of a summer fling
incessant realm of lust
fades away in the day

Seeds of life grow
wanting – is not a sin.
In the green of the night
chasing temptation
pursuit of passion
lost in the maze of night –
is not a sin.
Its the nature
of the night.

Soon will emerge morning
sun beams burning the fantasies
but its also is right time
to make the first move


and friend-shui.
keep me sane.

23, I’m a metrosexual,
my life is not easy.

Oh yeah, alcohol also helps,
and weed sometimes.


I waited
in the grey of
arrival terminal.
Grey –
of concrete & steel
of glass and people

I have always been waiting
year after year
birth after birth
episode after episode
after every end

You are either
driven by hope,
or decay!
I hope.

A traveler’s airport
is different from cabby’s
or worker’s and vendor’s
or security dog’s.
Then there are us
at arrivals.

Eyes wake up
they announced her flight.


the night II

I am with me,
And you.

Saw you in the day today.

you sleep here
I don’t wonder
what you might be dreaming.

I just like it
helps me dream
of dreams
helps me learn – me!

you were so different in the day

a comet,
forgotten by time,
I wandered
through galaxies
with momentum
I was born with.
And you –
you operate on

You live
your destiny
why blame me?
I am a traveller
was meant to be.
Here I enter
your atmosphere.
I might burn out
even before a kiss

Oh, now I know
you were indifferent
during the day
but this is the night
you are sleeping
you are not thinking..


Nilly &
me silly
this is our fami-ly

We are four dogs
all born on
2 years ago

Milk, dogfood
leather baseball
is what we like
never cat food

Becoming a big dog ball
laughing, screaming
on each other
was our most favorite game
but now we have grown bigger
so it doesn’t work out

We really enjoy
annoying Mrs Macmillan
She threatens to
throw us out
‘I am too old
to look after you’
but she loves us

She is little sick today
but its thanksgiving
our second birthday
bath, new collars
a family picture
with Nilly in her lap
and Billy’s front feet
on her shoulders

She always loves to cook
her son and daughter-in-law
are coming
They have a new baby now
we have already made plans
to scare her

Its late, we are bored
they are still not here
no cake before the guests.
Okay we will wait

Phone rings
we all jump
Billy gets her the phone
he always wins
victorious, he gets a kiss
from Mrs Macmillan
and a stare for saliva

‘They are not coming’
She tells us to eat
at the table
and retires..
‘no no no’
‘cake cake’

She is gone
we don’t want to eat too
we all go in basement
its cold
but she is sad in her bedroom
we hug and try to sleep

oh, she is calling
go go – croon croon
there are two candles
on the cake
she is dancing
on the radio
she puts party hats on
us she kisses us
we kiss her
we are hungry-
its thanksgiving

we are a big happy family


They are ready,
almost greedy to take on.
Armed with subway maps
and water bottles
bulging in backpacks
pumping their hard earned
in local economy.

Days in cathedral,
nights in cheap brothels.
This is how the life balances.

‘I love you! Lets take a vacation’.
‘Just divorced, need some time off!’
Tourism is a balancing act.

Then there are vagabonds.
Tourists, because they unlearnt
the concept of a home.
Wide-eyed as the routines unfold.

Is it because life
was not fair to them?

There has to be something
they just can’t be idiots.

* * *

Then there are those
whose minds travel –
to places unknown.
Sometimes they come back,
sometimes they don’t…

* * *

In any event,
tourism is good
for our economies.

information explosion

call her a freak
she thinks she is brilliant.

The orchids,
data management,
base ball,
the rocket science…
watching her talk is exhausting.
In the time of ‘google’?

We celebrated
long ago,
when blackberry
did TV, radio, computer, phone, projector –
all in one.

Our universe confined in two by four.

Now it has shrunk further
to a chip they put in our heads
as soon as we are born.

Organic learning,
Emotion management,
Selected memory vaults… – huh!
Hate the new lingo.
I’m not a big fan of
telecasting emotions through a chip.

Old fashioned,
I want the time back
when even cell phones were not popular.
Yeah, the seventies…
…mayyyyybe eighties

And I want
time to stop right there.

the writer

Emotional instability
was the God’s greatest gift to him.
Then he learnt his ways
with the words.

He was always a player.

Luckily, his wife of 12 years
left him on the day –
his house burnt down.
He had returned home drunk
after getting fired.

Suicidal, he carried on
but never attempted it.
Instead, he turned alcoholic.
Few months later –
he became a writer.

* * *

Teena turned sixteen,
fell in love and wrote poems.
Megan was raped and hospitalized.
She wrote her diary.

When the diary was published
it was the book… also
the deal of the year!

* * *

Bill hired a writer
to write his ‘auto’biography.

* * *

I’ve been having fun writing.
You enjoy reading me.
We both are products of our craving
for sex, violence and money.

We are the most popular genre.

wildest dream

Two months ago
he was a homeless.

The whole neighborhood knew him.
They liked his hopeful jokes.
The doctor,
the baker,
bus driver,
and once in a blue moon
the bar owner!

He took bird baths
in the dirty rest rooms
at gas stations in Queens.
Befriended rats.

You can’t be homeless
without training to deal with rats.
He learnt to spread peanut shells
as rat warning system
around the place he slept.
In cold weather,
and rains and
blissfully beautiful summer nights
at the warm stone stairs
of the Cathedral.

What’s with the teenagers
whose idea of fun is to piss over the homeless.

When he was in the ER
after he had a mild heart attack,
he got the news that he’d won a
lotto jackpot.

His wildest dream was to
own two Yorkshire terriers for a week.
Now he has six of them and a German Shepherd
and they get comprehensive weekly grooming

early evening

I deal with the nights alright
can cheat my mornings

obviously caffein away
most of the day

Not early evening.
No way.
Its impenetrable
its baby face
inquisitive eyes
right on my face
doesn’t buzz
get off, I cry
doesn’t leave me alone

Actually evening is the pay off
all other hours go on your payroll
naturally you look at your paycheck
compare with others

naked reality

early evening

Pl don’t blame me
I attempted resolving it
again buy failed
I will try it again tomorrow

for now
let me drown
it in alcohol

and make it a virgin
all over again


Very handsome
39, 195, tall (no mustache)
income in 6 figures
approved green card
Looking for graduate
punjabi khatri
slim, god fearing
homely girl between
25-29 years of age
Only from Canada or UK
should know North Indian
cooking some American dishes (
not much pasta, burritos etc)

Note: Single girls need not solicit
only parents need apply
with one colored photo of face
and complete picture

We don’t want dowry
we are god fearing
forward thinking
educated people
will keep your daughter
like our daughter

Our son is very kind
no smoking, no drinking
no bad habits

you will not find a better groom
apply to : pb # 3054, Flushing NY 10254
Pl no phone call
if we are interested – we will call you


This is no war,
Only a cold idea
maybe, a luke-warm decision
with drunken precision

The west is being lost
(for its stagnation over several decades now)
to the dusty and ancient
and egotistically emerging east

The power shifts
to the east
so does the lime light
giving much needed breather
to the west to
rethink, reinvent,
maybe rest,
or maybe just watch

East, in 2010,
is a fierce world
remotely resembling
Europe of early 1900s

To glorify my move
I vaguely tell me
that I like to be
where the action is.

Although, insulating
completely from the news / everyday life
/social interaction /emotional connect
in the newly acquired world
might be diagnosed
as mid-life-crisis too.


Enough of a child
ever ready to run
and have everyone
pay attention
or she would cry

I f’elt great
that I’d found her
till we got married

If marriage is
end of great sex
It is also the
end of monogamy.

It is beginning of
lies and false promises
and come on reader
I am talking of your marriage
and mine
and everyone else’s.
some admit it
most dont.

They don’t even
learn of their cheating ways
something is wrong
with their own lives

Egos with the
flexibility of glass
burping mid meal
without class
you are my husband
you’re my hero

I love you
and I don’t like
half of your manners
and demeanors
and ofcourse
I’d like to fuck her,
I could experiment too
but not when you’re watching


1 Response to literature

  1. priti sagar says:

    good stuff!

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