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Encounters
1
A day
like any other days in summer,
brooding on wind and water,
the smoky square
of flesh and bones,
decamped,
after a downpour had played
Jimmy Hendrix's guitar music on awnings,
with half-closed eyes, the sun chuckled
seeing his seven steeds on a puddle.
2
Voices rattleed the bar,
words on profit and loss crowding the publican,
the drooping lamps with arms crossed
breathed in and out in a deep sleep.
the two o'clock in the morning had fag-ashes in its eyes,
on the table leant the bored waitress
corkscrewing us,
we ran home,
later sat down for a brunch,
found young mothers
knitting castles with the smiles of their babies.
3
Somewhat grudgingly, entered a bank to pay bills.
resting her back against the counter,
smiling, the cashier hummed current interest rates,
let fall her blond hair
on the tangentboard of a computer,
played national anthems,
nine little Maos and Kissingers
waltzed on keys,
appeared eunnuchs from Institutions,
faces white as napkins,
to honour them with a prize for Peace.
4
Sat in a bar
drinking my frothy loneliness,
emerged the fuming belly of Kolkata
weltering in the toxic sun.
Literally.
the bar sank under the boats of Ganga,
a shoal of hilsha fish swam in trance
sketching a Benarasi sari on the river,
nearer, and nearer, drew the babbles of cricket fans
spiralling,
choked above the bridge of Howrah.
5
the zebra crossing,
the traffic lights changed from amber to green,
walked past people, prams,
two cats halted
just before a solar eclipse.
6
Straight into a drizzle,
raindrops spinning cataracts on glasses,
in front, couples under umbrellas skipping ahead,
streetlights skid and rebound
tracing fireflies on their ears
as the road dips and rises,
behind, a mask of silence,
sudden switching off of headlights tar the road,
a story of loss, a book of darkness.
The bay of Slussen
spirals of exhaust
climbing
to fuse
with heaps
of cowdung
in the sky,
tic tac tac, tic tac tac,
against a liner
the sea is throwing up tar,
an anxious seagull,
fretful,
a child of a saga in nightmare,
tic tac tac, tic tac tac,
sound of techno,
macho,
on the deck couples are dancing,
more robot than human,
laughters of a corroded tin-can,
down
in the old town,
recede
a crowd,
a funeral limousine,
through the mouth
of an eel,
crescendos
of hubub,
here and far,
smell of kebab,
suffocate
inside the hat
of an August night.
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