My depression-bushes, forcibly set aside.
Look I am not talking how I missed Kashmiri Gate Metro Station
but instead got down at Pullbangash, and how while returning
i stepped out at Tis Hazari, the one ahead of destination.
Listen, I still gather some strength. that is why i just finished
writing "WAITING fOR GODOT". I remember, I said, " you will like it.
I forgot to add, Take your time, We will talk another time.
In which Time-Zone ?
There are many against we-many. you will ask.
I too will aks at the same time, a question about time.
We will then look at each other, just look.
Sukhanwari continues to dissolve into rings of silences
like a colour-tube under stone left unlided at the rim of a gently flowing river.
many an acts render a fact like Death to purposelessness. yet we argue..
At some point, while nothing was happeing, uncessearliy i suggested YOU
exactly what? That is not the question, but you turned away,
like any author who turns away from her or his own text, once done. No ?
You were there, now here too. I like to stay calm, but a chaotic presence
at both places, simultaneously.
Is then this "The Time Image" and plus ?
See, I still talk,
Actor me, delivering the crammed line:
" O, dear Mother, Look I play the role of 'Kanne phol' in 'why'.
a subsequent drawing is
one single black inked grain, on a photograph of thousand rice grains.
And once gentle fingers of time arrive,
removal of the entire mask from face is inevitable
lethal combination of face and mask indeed oblitrated many a things
all along, now this photograph at its tail.
now it is working.
wait. it would be hot, but eat.
Now, go lit the fire, cleansed rice is ready to cook.
Be what you are not in relation to what you never were,
and yet all this what we look we are:
or nothing ...
* kanne phol = unhusked grain of rice
**why = rice before it is cooked _