the peacocks cry at this hour outside, i am reminded of a noon dream
a noon dream in which a boy took umbrage in his lover's absence and shared himself with me
i tasted his clavicle and my eyes opened to the face of my current favourite slam poet olivia gatwood who is to visit pune in June
funny how pune and june are written the same but spoken differently
i see metro trains in my dream and i cross metro rails on foot
a lover from chennai sits in the metro on the other side of the platform
i am with a current lover
but disconcerted
i twitch
the former is with a girl who i obviously ignore, blatantly even
a dog's lay-foot dangles across the seat
its not an ordinary metro
i feel like im at the banaras railway station
but have i ever been to the kashi railway station?
i see empty hallways, escalators and plenty of dust-filled air
i see faceless limbless full bodied people
we are all going to college
college classes are in the dark
movies being watched, projectors, slideshows, snoozehalls, jarring pauses
the kooky crannies light up with the buzz of my cigarette lighter
who will cram up the fallen ashes? i look at the dog's foot
its still but not still enough for the mosquito to buzz around it
my phone rings, the bank wants me to get a credit card so i can purchase that one gadget i pine for
i hit snooze and check the time
its 12.22
late for work
i light a cigarette borrowed from a friend from the night before
the lighter doesnt belong to me either
i had bought two lighters last month
both left the house as quickly as they were first put to use
"i never buy lighters, bro" my flatmate had said
the whirrring fan tells me am late
to break the monotony i play malare on my weary old jbl
the sweet hum of yesudas makes me want to rip off a page of those parahs i've written for him and speed post them straight to his residential address
i stand still in front of the mirror
eyes locked in my eyes
a slight puffiness on the face from having overslept,
olivia gatwood, my brother's ex?
dreams are dreams, but this was a still pond until that customer care call
vapid i listen to the slow burn of yesudas croon 'hmmmmm' in the last stanza of the paegn
wafts of curly smoke rises into the air,
my eyes half-open i think of the crying dogs and mainas back in lucknow
i think of the stinging, maddening smell of raat kali ka flower
and the song returns
my head receives the first stench of an ache
the smoke looses itself in the curls of my hair,
eyes locked
i hear a distant echo of the crying peacock