Happy New Year 2008

What I wouldn't give to
see the silhouette of a star
emblazened on the glass of
my window-sill. Even a dead
one, dare I say, will do? At
least, for now?

Another little defeat.

Another little escape.

As I try to learn to read
the cartographer's whims
in the peripheries of this
dying little metro-pole,
I want to hear the rhythm
of your
starlit voice laughing out
loud. One more time.

And the fact of the matter
is, they have re-named the
only cafe in town Metro.
Only yesterday. No
kidding, right?

Did I keep clutching your
hands long after our
skins have ceased to
produce any ripples?

I can send you the
rainbow which, like a disobedient
Catholic school-girl, keeps
kissing the highway right
through the midnight--
“Dark, abiding and signing.”

True,
we have smudged the
red a little bit too much
all through these months.
But, believe me, I can
still hand you over in
whole, the blue, green,
violet and yellow.

And,
If that's not enough,
I can throw in a couple
of stories that would not
make any sense to anyone
but me.

If
even that doesn't do
I can pack in the tip
of the pine-tree. Which
like a diligent school-boy,
keeps stroking the ruffled
red of the rainbow in
question all through the
rains.

True.
Pine flowers are no oleanders.
But good enough to remind you
the sheer accident of history
through which tea-leaves
smelling of the Himalayan
clouds and salts, begin to
be called English Breakfast.

But,
first you need to hand
me over your starlit voice,
silly little boy. The least you
can do while we try to put
together the shared thesaurus
of loss, tears and combats.