In Jennie's Memory

A wrinkling hand, a gloved coldness enveloping the body and a lost gold chain. Memories, emotions and the mountains overwhelm me to tears. It’s not cowardly to cry, it’s not helpful either. The rolling mountains don’t care if you won a lottery, murdered a man or sat still your entire life. So, I've been floating and running. Floating and running till I came to a standstill with the passing away of Jennie Elliot- a dear friend and big brother.

I’ll never see you again as that green dot on facebook

I’ll never see you again as that smiling face that broke into laughter

I’ll never see you again as the man of music who spent hours listening to inaudible melodies

I’ll never see you again as the excellent cook trying to fatten me up

I’ll never see you again as the big brother who protected me

I’ll never see you again as the friend who took me on rides in the mountains

I’ll never see you again as the drinking partner who made me euphoric in silly deeds

I’ll never see you again on a motorbike, tall, handsome and wonderful. Truly wonderful.

I’ll never see you again trading sides with him and me

To be the best man at my wedding day.

I’ll never see you again as the brother who kept my feet warm

In fluffy brown slippers that you bought me

I’ll never have you call me "darling dahling" again

I’ll never see you again Jennie.

But I’ll never want to see you in that grave.

I’ll never want to imagine you buried in a wooden box.

I’ll never want death to touch you.

I’ll never accept this. Say what the world has to.

I love you my brother. I love you as you loved music.

I love you as the walks we took together

I love you as all the laughter that rings painfully in my heart now.

I love you for the memories we made.

I wish we still made them, till we grew old.

I wish you would come back

I would trade places with you. Any day. Without fail.

And now, I’ll keep you alive. In my heart.

I’ll keep you alive, for all that it takes.

A Friend Beyond Borders, Mental and Physical

This piece is NOT political and NOT a depiction of a secret crush on somebody. It's the tiny story of a blooming friendship, a memory in the making, to cherish for years to come. 

'We call it the restroom, not the loo'

Oh well, I still got to pee in there.

'It's a catch-all phrase, like break a leg'

Oh well, I thought you really wanted me safe

When you exclaimed, 'stay safe up there'.

A man of poetry, of painting, of sticky brownies.

A man of suits, of souvenirs, of baseball hats.

A girl of converses, nameless verses.

A girl of quechua, wilderness and peaks.

Where do we meet? Where do we dream?

The crossroads for us are unidentified.

The generous laughter, the intrigue flutter free

From the confines of visa stamps and diplomatic tiffs.

America and India saw each other at a jazz cafe.

America and India met at a Japanese sushi bar.

America and India fought over the merits of the euro.

America and India laughed at the hobbit's big feet.

America and India scrabbled down memories.

And now, America and India have found 

Mildly offensive peace, in poetry.

100 % Rock

On a foray into Meghalaya in September last year, I had a chance meeting with Lou Majaw at The Shillong Cafe. We met on a couple of occasions and I wrote this piece to thank him for rejecting norms and being who he is.

When I go to a bar
I see their faces
Framed for posterity.
Young faces only.
Jim. Elvis. Bob.
Always photoshopped. Always alone.
I wonder then,
Does their solitude encourage our little groups
To see happiness in a pint?
I see Lou Majaw.
Old and grey. And youthful.
Silver hair, denim shorts and a thumbs-up smile.
Always on show.

He is a rockstar to you.
He is a phenomenon to me.
Of transgression, of questions thrown without cringe.
To challenge a status quo.

Then, I look back at this bar.
And wonder, how are we different?
From the barstools we occupy.
Each weekend, through time.