Born amidst neither fame nor shame,
In Lieu Of A Birth Certificate
I came to the world like a dead telegram...Locked in the jail, accused of stealing electric wire, the village thief’s faint sobs sparkle like my mother’s sindoor.
Small wooden cradles placed by Hindu families praying to have children.
Small wooden cradles placed by Hindu families praying to have children.
I came to the world like a dead telegram...
Locked in the jail
accused of stealing electric wire,
the village thief’s faint sobs
sparkle like my mother’s sindoor.
Slaughtering cigarettes remorselessly,
the sentry guards his conscience like a banished saint.
Born amidst neither promise nor sorrow,
I came to the world like untainted white charcoal...
On the mud thatched roof
skirt rolled up to her thighs invitingly
the sparrow greedily chews her daily dose of worms.
Unmindful of scorns of passersby
listening to FM radio lazily in the Saturday afternoon
the vegetable vendor searches angrily for Columbus
in the discarded newspapers.
Born amidst neither pleasure nor fear,
I came to the world like unwashed blue jeans...
At the serpentine box office queues of morning shows
adult fantasies play hide-and-seek like nursery kids.
The last drop of alcohol in the whisky bottle
dances adulterously on my million tongues.
The fragrance of your armpit
travels like gunpowder in the dark forest.
Born amidst neither illusion nor ambition,
I came to the world like the rusted rumours of a riot...
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