Jay Gandhi – Ponder Away

Wondering wanderer

when at home, I imagine the Himalayas:
the yellow tent to buy from Decathalon,
the UGG Men’s Butte Snow boot.

when in nature, I think:
if my Dad has taken Ecosprin 75 mg,
if my Mom has got an eight hour sleep.


My problem, my solution

You cross my mind
while I eat roasted almonds.
I begin counting the pieces left
in my right hand paying close attention
to the size, color and feel
of each almond. I try to name
the taste & listen to the crackle —
smell the roast.
I visualize the smiling face
of my 3-year old niece,
followed by how the sun rises
in the gullies of Ghatkopar.
I imagine the sound of the rain
on the Himalayan mountain.
After that I count back from 100—
only the multiples of 7 & 3
and on the numbers like 63,
I utter “a double”


Pedestrian meditation

I look out from the 8th floor window
to count the number of buses
which halt at the bus stop

All the buses roar in,
dash out: there is an urgency

Everyone wants to reach somewhere

They want to meet someone;
someone wants to meet someone else
and someone else might just want to visit me

Focus Charlie! Focus

my bladder is screaming,
acids are churning the stomach,
eyes are getting weary—

Here comes #399;
Nirvana isn’t a piece of cake


Cold Diwali

(i)
these days I am writing
a thesis about how bats
& owls survive the nights.
I think it would help
sole rangers like me

(ii)
there are coloured tablets
in my medicine case which
create different rangoli
every time; this Diwali
they are the only colours


Children have left the house

the timid streams gather courage,
bustle as they build momentum.
they start to join at the junctions
and begin to soften all the rocks
one at a time. sandstone is becoming
quartzite. granite is becoming gneiss.
milk is slowly curdling and the
tributaries are forming a river.
a river which is uninhibited,
it has no colour, no nationality,
no race, no religion. it breaks
all the boxes, crashes mental dams,
while it houses the salmons and eels,
it is the home for fishes and flies,
a place for hippos and rhinos
but has no place for a thought
of flowing backwards.


Budding Romeo

Today I’ve visited the home of my beloved
It seems as if I’ve visited the entire city

Black tea created such an atmosphere
I’ve sensed my partner in just a few moments

In the shining diamond around her neck
I’ve seen the stone which hypnotises

I’ve felt such a peace and relief
that I’ve seen the fear of loneliness tremble

In the slightest of her smiles, I saw a boat.
Trust me, I could visualise the full sea


kaka

A portrait is locked in my wrist.
My 2B Natraj pencil chokes
on the Fido-Dido sketchbook.
Muse’s forehead has many lines:
first line is a prayer for his wife
battling breast cancer,
second line denotes the loans
taken to send his son abroad,
third line is for the pregnant daughter.
His hair is grey but doesn’t
appear so when oiled.
The oil seeps through the head
and tries to dissolve the turmoil.
No Old monk. No Jack Daniels.
Each day when he returns home,
his wife opens the door
and greets him daily;
that moment is Nirvana—
the precise reason to stay alive.
His knees no longer bend
but he still tries to do so
when bowing to the God.
Even Picasso would tremble to get
the layers and wrinkles right.
But I have taken up the challenge
and the running title is kaka.

=====================================================
kaka 
is a respectful way of summoning a old man in Gujarati Language


Badlapur Local

In a first class compartment
there are blue seats with
soft cushion.

In a second class compartment
there are brown seats made
of wood.

some people discuss
the features of the Apple XR

others are contemplating
the next step to be taken
because the water supply
would be cut by the time
they reach home


White

She loved vanilla,
eggs & snow.
Every night she
tracked the cusps
of the moon—
she died today;
she was wrapped
in whites as she
traversed the clouds.


Rubato

More than 10000 pieces of broken mirrors
are stuck together for the installation.

Some pieces are dull, some are luminous,
some from the crashed wardrobes of a big shot
while others from the remains of the dashed cars.

they reflect with different intensities
but create the Large beat—

Earth hums songs on this very beat


Artist:

Jay Gandhi is a 33-year old accountant from Mumbai, India. He writes free verse in English. Most of his poems derive their inspiration from human inter connections. In free time when he isn’t reading poetry, he practices guitar, enjoys the peace that Yoga Asanas brings and walks for long distances.

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