where were you yesterday
with your streets-clogging two-wheelers and more
when they denied you your conscience
and your common sense

where were you yesterday
yesterday when they demanded
to be heard like a bird
when all they’ve done is talk the absurd

where were you yesterday
when they terrorized the Scooty
but let the Enfield run its course
when they congregated around the old
and let the young ones run amok
when they followed their ruling overlords
who’ve mostly got nothing but only decades of status quo to preserve
and still got the marginalized to somehow follow
what then is the difference
if this – shutting down the rest – is what it takes to unite
to divide would then take nothing but a
differently routed snot rocket?

where were you yesterday
like today
when you’re displaying pretentious rage on these roads
and threatening to out-gunda the other participant
while not following the rules of these roads
in your borrowed freedom
but were silently supplicating to the terror yesterday
yesterday when you were
hiding in your deras and your houses or in the saris of your spouses

where were you yesterday
like today
when you’re letting whoever sees know
that you are in a hurry
as if to save the world
yesterday when they stalled you
angered you but still silenced you
commanded you and humiliated you
where did that hurry go
where did that freedom go
where did that rage go
where the fuck did all that talk go

yesterday will again come tomorrow
you will have another chance to break the borrow
and free yourself from these idiots
idiots who’ve got you by the balls
and turned your life into nothing but a null

yesterday we’ve seen a thousand times before
yesterday that has come to nothing
and yet
if not one it is always the other
why wait until the last second to be up with the bother
protest protest protest
something so sexy has turned into one ugly smudge
coated with terror and coated with begrudge
forward forward forward
when shall we trudge

i walk with one pair of shoes
but i work with another
i’m sorry to do this to you
but i have to lie to them mother

it was no one but you who labored to introduce me here
i wanted to play by the so called rules but it didn’t quite get me there
no matter how hard i try to run away from the daily
it seems i’m only being posted here to report on all sorts of melee
unseen forces unmatched resources undeserved voices
they win they provide they say
and they’re the ones who’re always out to celebrate the first day of May

mother
i still want to learn
i still want to glean
and i want to be seen
a lean, mean, machine
i want to articulate
i have stuff to say
i know they can help me
that’s why i want to matriculate

but mother
“you can’t”, they tell me
“you don’t meet our criteria
you’ll scare the rest
you’ll only cause disturbia
you don’t look the part
maybe you should get another fresh start?
look this is only for us
please don’t stay here and cause too much fuss
one look at you and there’s absolutely nothing for you to tout
just don’t let the door hit you
on your way out”

i disagree with them mother
you know me, i’m not the one
to be outdone
i’ll have my way one way or the other
to make it just
to make it equal
for all of us
even if it means
i have to lie to them
about who i am mother

never seen you
didn’t know you
never even heard about you
until this morning
amongst the chirps and Tiny Dancer
reading about you now
made me long for you

turned off Elton’s classic
there, you’d have married a music man
he’d have treated you right
and you’d have lived
full of blithe
a dancer
a fighter
a beauty
a mother
your longing
and your love
for your land
will get you justice
you seeked
i will pray
to your god

you seemed to be funny
with what you said in the auditorium
your worries are hopefully gone now
when i’m also done here
we’ll meet someday
and talk
after you dance for me – i hope

A says
“i think i’m falling for her man
she’s got those eyes that don’t tell lies
you know?
she’ll not judge you
she’ll not look at you
she’ll just look at you
just look at you
with a hint of fear
how’ll he treat me
is this the it?

she’s just an
ordinary girl
you know?
just .. simple
but funny .. you know?
those eyes
their brownness – i’m falling bro
falling!
go to FB right now
type her name
yeah that’s her
hahaha .. yeah she went to Pathibhara too
about the same time you almost froze to death there that night
i told her about you
and she’s eager to meet you

she’s not trying to be funny
not trying to be anyone
but herself
you have to meet her man
you just have to meet her
you’ll love her

so
arranging lunch this saturday
before i go
you have to come, jatha
at Z – lunch, 12:30 pm – Saturday!”
A orders

“haha
sure,
good going man
see you both at Z”
say i
and mull over As words

(something’s very .. right
about the way he sounds
his voice has that ..
teen-crush-zing! + been-n-seen-it-all-but-sorta-care-about-this-one feel to it
and i don’t blame him
his previous keti almost turned him into a .. terrorist)

while i continue ironing my shirt
last one this week – thank god!

can’t wait for casual fridays

did i bite off more than i could chew?
i think it’s nothing but the truth i hereby spew:

these days
after the sun goes down
i panic

the towering tasks are on the table
that i thought i’d be more, more than able
to handle all at once and evermore
which in retrospect
has been a laughable estimation and nothing more
and thank you for the inspiration there
Mr. Edgar Allan Poe

it’s like studying for an exam during loadshedding
and no ‘emergency light’ or a candle to provide any mending
and you panic

it’s like walking a couple of kilometers amid the dhuwa and dhulo and then you have
threatening bowels that overpower you with no acceptable relief provider in sight
and you panic

it’s like public speaking for a chronic stutter’er’
a tsunami of panic

it’s like when ex-girlfriends call you
nuclear panic

it’s like when random dance bar dancers call you
how in the world do they have your number?
oh! .. and you drench in sweat
panic!

it’s like waking up perspiring
when
three 747s parked in the sky start free falling towards Kathmandu
epic proportioned panic – but then you realize momentarily
that it is just a nightmare
nothing that cannot be shaken off temporarily
so that you can revel in the calmness that the night is actually supposed to be
ha!
for only to wake up in the morning
to once again
panic to reality

EXCEPT

and ,, dhyan .. tan .. naaaan

when, at 6am, the gatebell rings
wait!!
it’s the Saral Gas part-time dude keeping his word
and delivering to you
you – the dignified Number 582
to your shock and awe
the gas cylinder
that you so. damn. deserve.

you then
incredulous and almost teary eyed at the sight of the cylinder
twist its lid just a touch
to take in the swoooooossshh of the foul pungent for proof
to your welled eye delight

full of proof now
you hug the cylinder for a full minute
then haltingly sniffling in sheer joy (in front of the suddenly awake thus entertained neighborhood)
you kiss the cylinder all over its cold, heavy, and scratched red bulk
(much to the cheery applause of the Saral gas dude and the ‘hood)

you then
do the unthinkable –
the sort that no one had before this time, to their relief, ever witnessed
you dance
in pure bliss
you dance
for the savory sounds of the pressure cooker
you dance
for the stirring sounds within the non-stick saucepans
you dance
for the almost silent sibilent sounds of the rice-cooker
you dance
for that cherished dinner table moment
you dance
for the fact that you’ll be doing dishes for a guaranteed upcoming three months
you dance
for the daal-bhaat-achar-tarkaari/masu
you dance
much to the chagrin of the now sick-to-his-stomach Saral gas part-time dude
you dance
to the collectively startled populace of the ‘hood
you dance
you dance
and then some

goes without saying:
this dance would usher Usher to throw in the shoes and retire
this dance would eradicate loadshedding
this dance would unchange climate up in our money-generators
this dance would solve all fuel crises
this dance would cleanse the bagmati
the bishnumati
the dhobikhola
the tukucha
the manahara
this dance would complete the Melamchi Project
this dance would make you angry
this dance would abolish child labour
this dance would make sure all of us get treated equally
this dance would make sure we migrate due to choice
not
due to need
this dance would promulgate our constitution
but would see to end of the peace process first
this dance would make you care not where The Buddha was born
but more about what he preached and practiced
(except that he left his wife and kids out to suffer – Ex used to argue)
this dance would unblock my father’s partly-blocked artery
this dance would put a smile on everyone’s face
this dance would make you want to laugh
this dance would make you want to live
this dance would make you want to love

at the end of the day
when the Saral Gas dude cycles to the next house
with a sole cylinder tied up securely to the butt-rest above the back-wheel
which is just hell-bent to trip him over to its side
while he creates a balance so as not to fall off of his ride
by loading his body weight to the opposite’s
and then the ‘hood peeps tuck their heads back into the windows
to get on with life,
this dance would make you realize
that everything’s eventually going to be all right
all right.

i have a 500 friend request waiting list on my FB
says she
what?
that’s like more than the Indian Railways waiting list
on any given day
say i

i know, crazy right?
and some are 50 year old uncles
pervs
says she

what?
that sounds like
who i’m gonna be when i turn 50
say i

hahahaha
says she

hahahaha
say i

so what are you upto
says she

o you know
hunting
say i

perv!!!
says she
turning her back to me

no no
hunting
hunting for Nepali words
say i

on god’s fort
i told the truth
She was on your side
i’d soon find out
but i came in peace
i came in trust
i came with a heart
free of blood, love, and lust

with clasped hands
and eyes searching for a place to rest
and a hope that things in fact
do reallly happen for the best
you smile knowingly
a i-knew-it
as i drown in another pool of deadbeat

you did see it coming
for you knew
the shallowness inside of me
would lead us to face the fork
in this melodrama that we’re living in

47 days, it is then
to find out if this is the destination
or just another transit to get to one