a honed wooden bed, slightly convex
guttered edges to catch the oil
lashings of which dumped on naked flesh
massaged with hands "expert" at this
the orange blossom creeper
overhanging the front porch
harbours all asylum seekers
under, over, and within her church
My earliest memories
Were of Grandpa sitting in his armchair
Next to him his whisky, neatly sipped
Handsome, cheerful, grey haired
Cuban cigar perched on lower left lip
The only time she opened a
book to study
was just before an exam,
from 4:30,
when she’d try to cram
a year’s worth of pages
into three hours of
concentrated memory,
after gramps woke her
with biscuits and coffee.
on Valentine’s Day in 1990
an airplane carrying 139 slammed
into the golf course in Bangalore city,
while attempting to land.
It was past eight that night
when dad decided to
watch elephants.
let’s go camp, he said,
at the foothills of Arnekal
(elephant rock), and
watch elephants cross the hill
silhouetted against the dawn sky.
every New Year’s Eve, a fixture in my life
was the old man perched on the bonfire
in our front yard.
Growing up in a small town in Bangalore
was both a breeze and a constant challenge
we were raring to rule the world and more
while wrestling with compliance and balance
I used the last drops of clear liquid
on nail-sized pad of cotton fluff
t-zone inflammation put on hold
my face needed no other stuff
Ayurvedic practitioners say
that food should pass out
soon after ingestion;
thrice daily evacuation
being a sign
of efficient bodily function.
In my youth
two evergreens stood
tall in our garden,
landmarks for the town,
coniferous guides.