To the one I left him for

When the heavy monsoon rain sets in, I like to seat myself at the piano and play Orage by Liszt. It means ‘storm’. It’s dark, the skies are gray and the song is as violent as Mother Nature’s downpour; but I can feel a warmth wrapping gently around me, because I know I’m inside, sheltered from it all. I love the rain, but what I love more is the fact that I’m shrouded by the embrace of the air in the room, able to observe the beauty of the fleeting raindrops without having to feel the cold and damp.

You are the room, he is the rain.

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Fort Aguada, Goa

Nirvana in Pitcairn

I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me already. But I don’t want to linger in the murky depths of the earth. I hope the ground spews me out somewhere on an island on the other side of the world, somewhere like Pitcairn where the breadth of civilization consists of 40 people and some wallabies. I’d be a guava on the tree, hanging around, waiting for the guava shooters to pierce a bullet through my soft, pale green flesh and blow me open with a force that will make me forget everything and everyone.I hope my seeds won’t sprout so that I’ll be completely, truly wiped off the earth. No remorse, just a grassy Nirvana.

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Museum of Goa, artwork by Subodh Kerkar

 

His Inferno.

This is the post excerpt.

 

They buy his strings
A hundred a piece.
But he lets me keep
His heartstring for free.

Three feet away a man
But three inches close,
He's a child.

I took him by the hand
Showed him valleys of deceit
Carved into their lives.
Tainted innocence, my vice
Clinging to his mind.

I tell him in whispers
My message so subtle.
Yet he tells me
They make his veins chuckle.

One for the earth
And two for the world
He is the third

One more and you'll find
Quarters make a whole
It's a part of my ruse.
He walks through the Inferno
With Dante as his muse.
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Hendrix, original sketch.