Thursday, 2 September, 2010


I love the smell of  old books
they remind me of tall wooden shelves
the colour of burnt gold,
the last rays of the sun,
 the room by the old neem.

The freshly cut grass
after the rains smells green
a brilliant blue sky
and a passel of clouds
calls to the season
of jasmine and shells.

A smear of yellow
on her arms and cheek.
A dash of brilliant
vermillion follows
the dazzle of gold,
the glow of youth.
The starry eyed brightness
of apprehension
slowly grows.

A silver haze of memories
like sequins on a lace
painstakingly woven.
the sheer plethora of colours
sounds and scent
overwhelm her senses.

The jingle of her bangles,
a tinkle on her feet,
a flash of red and green,
vanishes round the corner.
a whiff of mint and rose,
linger on in the air,
wind in her long black hair,
She has trapped my senses.

1 comment:

diya said...

nice, refreashing poetry. chaliye ja!

Colour me green

Fresh green leaves on old majestic trees are like a sudden splash of joy. An Old green gate rolling open into a vast stretch of green grass is my earliest memory. The field dotted with innumerable little people dressed in royal blue and white gave me a sudden burst of excitement.

The grounds were moody rather muddy during rains,light green and yellow with spots of earth in summer...It turned a brilliant hue after the rains and little people marched on the chalk dust lines during winters...the trampled grass came back to life in spring.

Splashes of Red

I have always owned a red dress all my life. whether it be a baby frock as a toddler or a slinky red skirt when I was older...and then the years of living in red t-shirts and then the hand me down red pants which turned everything in the washing machine red. Followed by the red salwar piece of clothing that I have always owned and wear till date is a red riding hood cloak. My grandmother knit it for me..... I always go red in the face whenever I am excited...I wish my face wasn't such an emotional barometer and i wasn't the sentimental fool that I am...


my dreams of being an artist being shattered..


Orange juice and lemon soul for a penny... All the school girls are so many... The grass is green and the rose is red... Remember me when you are dead dead dead... --lines learnt in nursery