Loony Tunes

Four dinosaurs lived in a nest. The building doesn’t get built The way dreams do. Some other day I had asked someone “How do you spell relatable?” And she had answered “SAME”. Today my brother recounted hysterically, “ sunn sunn sunn , I dreamed I was debuting with Shahrukh Khan and Priyanka Chopra & she exclaimed whether I would not take selfie with Mausi ” We dinosaurs laughed our scales off. The building builds on itself The way dreams do. Remarkable feathers were left in the nest When the building was emptied. Then the pigeons came in. They shall spot the scales. “How do you spell nests?” “Tags”. Dreams are forgotten Not in the way building is. (Inspired from a poem by Wislawa Szymborska)

I guess 2001 was a weird time to laugh at this My friend used to eat chalks My brother’s friend used to poke him with pencils There was a child, fearing stationery. I guess 2018 is a weird time to remember this- My friend talked about our aims My friend’s friend aimed at taking a full circle while on swings There was a child, fearing stationary.

A woman sat on a bench. Waiting. Her elbows hooked onto her two heavy handbags. Her crossed arms held herself. Her feet gripped the handle of her fat attachee. To Not Let Go is an art we practice well sitting on platforms. Trains didn’t arrive here to load or unload passengers Most people looked like their luggage. Most luggage looked like their people. After half an hour a train crawled in. Speakers announced the arrival of ‘Mathura-Ghaziabad’ A man carrying a matchstick in his mouth got on. Nokia mobile phone patted his ear as he spoke, “I am not here. Going to Bambai.” He swiftly moved to window seat. We Are Going to Get Somewhere might be the name of a matchbox. Three women and two children Sat on the edge of the floor of the train facing the door Even though the train was empty. There has to be more freedom in doorways that windows can’t seem to give.

                       Scene -  telephonic convoversation                        Location-  different places Bro 1: I am coming SOON!!! Bro 2: I am coming too! Bro 3: Finally! We all will meet! Bro 1: Where shall we go? Bro 2: What. No. We stay indoor. Bro 3: No. We go bungeeeeeee. Bro 1: Yessss! Will make new kind of cheese masala mixed pink sauce pasta too. Bro 2 and bro 3 (together): Mum will save us from you! All 3: Hahahahaha 

The curtains close And the lizard gets Its home back. But Ruskin’s stories Loses a friend. If I do not remember the Mouse Or the Conceited Python Or the Lizard Do I fail the stories or the story teller? Do I fail the message or my education? Do I blame my ear or my brain or my age or more real things? Do I philosophize, as if I am not already?     The curtains were ever of the tailor As they were of the crop once. The magic trick disappeared Disappearance was the trick. A character. A Lizard.

In the months of summer Hotness is the sum total of all my puns intended. Nature wakes up early in all my dreams. Only we manage to kindly say “Hello! How long has it been?” To all kin(d)s of sabotage. Friends, non-friends and aliens Between January and another January Months sit in boat. Already. Life jackets on. So that shipping is easy. Charges do not apply if the order reads ‘we reckon climate change’. We aren’t quick learners or we would have learnt saving when the squirrel didn’t follow up— when the Metro wasn’t late— when the planet stopped at petrol station. I took the subscription as soon as I cancelled plans to check on water.

Ghachar Ghochar is a great book. Great being the best adjective I could come up with. Best being the lack of words I could describe such a book in. Such a book being the only book That could leave a mark. Leave a mark being a solid case For not abandoning this book. This book being Ghachar Ghochar.

Deer and heart lets do more spelling mistakes Because the best way to get this muscle worked up is humor Dear heart lets eat what grandparents eat And not shift to hospitals. Dear heart lets be thankful to Wislawa Her poetry is her thank you note to heart. Dear heart wake me up every Sunday early I have to wake up a lot. Dear heart stop sticking in my throat Every time I go out and take a step in unknown. Dear heart, water might be your best friend But really remind my brain about this. Or the brain should remind hurt.